


Moments in Love

by Gandalfs_Beard



Series: Moments in Love: the "Clean" and the Steamy [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Friendship, Maturity Upgrades, Not everything tagged because too spoilery, Romance, Surprises
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2018-04-12 12:04:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 78
Words: 549,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4478639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gandalfs_Beard/pseuds/Gandalfs_Beard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In First Year, Harry realises early on that he has more in common with Hermione than Ron. Their friendship gradually blossoms into something more - something that Voldemort will come to regret - the Power that he knows not. ... First through third year near canon, more AU from fourth year on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Know-It-Alls and Broomsticks

**Author's Note:**

> _The premise for this is "consistent-character!Harry Potter" based on his "Pre-Ron" characterisation. And by that, I mean the way Harry is described at the beginnings of the books (particularly in the beginnings of 1-3... see my Gandalf's Beard profile at fanfiction.net for chapter citations... and in any other scenes in the books which are most reflective of Harry's fundamentals) before Rowling started writing Harry with lines of thought and dialogue which sound more like they were originally written for Ron._
> 
>  
> 
> _As such, we see a Harry who is VERY interested in reading his schoolbooks, keen on learning everything there is to know about magic, and keen on doing his homework in a timely fashion - in other words, someone who has loads more in common with Hermione than Ron. And as such, we will also see a Harry who is more consistent in his behaviour regarding being very anti-bully, anti-bigot, anti-slavery, and very pro-fairness, not to mention being a fair bit smarter than he sometimes behaves when he's hanging around with Ron._
> 
>  
> 
> _So there will be no Rowling style Out-of-Character moments where Harry goes from being someone who treats Dobby likes an equal, feels bad about house-elf enslavement, actually frees Dobby from house-elf enslavement, and then suddenly turns into Brainwashed-by-Ron!Harry who thinks Hermione is crazy for wanting to free house-elves two books later. And also no moments where Harry isn't smart enough to be suspicious of a super-expensive broom appearing out of nowhere when an alleged mass-murderer is hunting him. Nor will Harry be stupid enough to test out unknown spells discovered written in the margins of an otherwise very useful book on unsuspecting people._
> 
>  
> 
> _In other words, again, a Harry who tends to have far more in common with Hermione in terms of goals, intellect, and basic outlook on life. Which isn't to say that Harry will be "Brainiac!Harry" who is a clone of Hermione - he will still have a more intuitive/visual style of intellect rather than a verbal/linear one, his memory will be normal - not eidetic, and he will still have a measure of impulsiveness, and some anger issues, all of which are strong features of Harry's core persona._
> 
>  
> 
> _Likewise, in this series of moments, we'll see a more consistent-character!Hermione. A Hermione who once she learns to trust Harry's friendship and instincts, doesn't suddenly do inconsistent things like talking to McGonagall about suspicious broomsticks before discussing it with Harry, or stupid uncharacteristic things, like not believing Harry's all-too-credible deduction that a Son-of-a-Death-Eater, with serious Daddy-Issues, is very likely following in his father's DE footsteps._
> 
>  
> 
> _Nor will Hermione be doing stupid OoC things like falling for an idiot with a motor-mouth who doesn't really like her unless she's doing his homework, or going to a party with a gropey-rapey jock just to make that same idiot jealous._
> 
>  
> 
> _No doubt some folk will think my characterisation of Ron is "bashing," but frankly, it is based on Rowling's OWN portrayal of him. Likewise, the relationship between Harry and Ron in this fic will have its ups and downs, as it did in canon._
> 
>  
> 
> _Due to the fact that Rowling has stated that she downplayed the physical abuse of Harry by the Dursleys, at the behest of publishers who had her alter earlier drafts, I have simply reinstated the obvious, which is apparent from the bits Rowling left intact - see my profile (as Gandalf's Beard) at fanfiction.net for chapter citations. So there will be a bit more mention of it than in canon, simply for the sake of realism, but I'm not going to go overboard on it either._
> 
>  
> 
> _There are a couple of characters who have also been adjusted to be more consistent with their initial characterisations (Dumbledore and Fudge in particular). And a few other characters will be slightly revisioned to give actual credence to Rowling's after-the-fact claim that the Potter series is LGBTQ positive - some characters will be bi or gay). And finally, the full implications of the "his mothers eyes" trope will be explored more in depth._
> 
>  
> 
> _Those who have read my other fic, **Hermione's Furry Little Problem** will recognise some scenes, particularly from Fourth Year on, as I am shamelessly plundering my own material, which was originally intended for a more serious fic like this one anyway._
> 
>  
> 
> _PG-13, TV-14, occasionally veering into R territory. Suitable for most teens._

Harry was tired of listening to Ron going on about the "Bossy Little-Know-it-All," but he really wasn't sure how to tell him. Ron was his best friend. Nobody had ever wanted to be Harry's friend before Ron, so Harry wasn't entirely certain how to tell a friend to stop being a jerk.

Yeah, it was true, Hermione Granger was a bit bossy, but Harry didn't see what was wrong with being smart. He'd read all of his own schoolbooks before term started, which had all been very interesting, and he wanted to know everything there was to know about magic. Losing a point in his first ever Potions lesson for suggesting that Professor Snape let Hermione respond to the questions when she clearly knew the answers had been particularly galling.

Harry _**had**_ read his potions book, and he _**had**_ read _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ , but he couldn't remember everything he'd read. Maybe Snape wouldn't hate him so much if Harry had been able to remember everything and answered the questions properly. Harry had meant to ask Hermione if she had any tips for improving his memory, but then he'd forgotten all about it after visiting Hagrid's hut and seeing the newspaper clipping about the Gringotts break-in.

Before Harry knew it, another week had almost gone by and the next time he had noticed Hermione was on the Thursday that the Gryffindors had their first Flying Lessons together. He had noticed how terrified Hermione had seemed of her broom. Then that creepy little bully with the blond hair - the one who thought he was better than everyone else, Draco Malfoy - had stolen Neville's Remembrall.

Harry had grabbed his broom, ready to go after him and Hermione had tried to stop him.

" _ **No**_ \- Madam Hooch told us not to - you'll get us all in trouble," she had shouted.

Harry had almost ignored her completely, but then he remembered that he wanted to talk to her later and noticed that she looked like she was about to cry.

"Look - _**Malfoy's**_ the one causing trouble Hermione. You have to stand up to bullies - if you don't, they think that they can get away with anything."

That had seemed to work. Hermione had looked conflicted for a moment, then she had nodded.

"Just be careful Harry - I don't want you to get hurt or get blamed unfairly."

Of course, when McGonagall had stormed out of the castle furiously, it had seemed for a short while that Harry _**would**_ get into loads of trouble. And Hermione's voice had been one among the chorus of voices trying to tell the stern professor that it wasn't Harry's fault. Hermione had seemed quite appalled when she noticed that Malfoy's part in things had gone unremarked on while Harry had been unceremoniously dragged off by Professor McGonagall - possibly to get expelled.

Of course, things hadn't worked out like that at all; to Harry's great surprise, he had been drafted onto the Gryffindor Quidditch Team instead. Harry had been very happy not to be expelled, and he had been thrilled to learn that he was good at something his father had also excelled at.

But then things had gone all wrong again - and in retrospect, Harry had to question McGonagall's decision to hold the threat of punishment over his head to make sure that he trained hard at Quidditch. At the time, Harry had been too excited by the prospect of being on the team to consider how much that might cut into his study time.

In any case, Harry had begun to seriously question his own decisions. It had been thoroughly stupid to allow himself to be goaded into an after-curfew Wizard's Duel with Draco Malfoy. What did Harry know about dueling?

They had been running from Filch in the middle of the night, and just as Hermione was gasping "I - _**told**_ \- you," and clutching at a stitch in her side, Harry had remembered that he barely knew any spells at all, and that he wanted Hermione to give him some study tips. Yet there he had been, gallivanting around the castle in the middle of the night simply for the sake of showing Malfoy up. Harry hadn't even had the justification of standing up to bullying that time. Harry had seen Hermione's distress and ignored it.

"Malfoy tricked you," she had reproached him. "You realise that, don't you? He was never going to meet you - Malfoy must have tipped Filch off..."

"You're right Hermione," Harry had replied, interrupting her, shame written all over his face. "I'm sorry - I should have listened to you..."

Hermione's eyes had widened in surprise at being acknowledged and apologised to, as if it were an extremely rare occurrence. And Ron had given Harry a strange look - as if Harry was a nutter for apologising to Hermione Granger - the Bossy Know-It-All. Then Peeves the Poltergeist had shown up and Ron had idiotically taken a swipe at him. After running into the room with that mad giant three-headed dog thing to escape Filch once more, Hermione had been infuriated all over again.

"We could have been killed," Hermione had snapped, glaring at Ron when they had returned to the Gryffindor Common Room, "or worse, expelled. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to bed.

"No, we don't mind," Ron had said to Hermione, glowering as she stormed off, "You'd think we'd dragged you along..." he had snarled at her as she gave them both one last withering look.

Harry hadn't said anything. Hermione had been right - about Malfoy tricking him, and about the fact the dog was guarding something, most likely whatever was in the package which Hagrid had retrieved from Gringotts. But Harry had just stood next to Ron, not wanting to say anything to the first friend that he'd ever had.

Hermione didn't talk to either of them for a week. And every time Harry had caught her eye and wanted to say something, Ron had started loudly going on again about the Bossy Know-It-All, and Harry hadn't said anything - because Ron was the first friend that he'd ever had.

Hermione had bitten her lip and turned around, stalking away and looking like she was about to cry.

At the end of that week, Harry had received a Nimbus 2000 broomstick at breakfast. Harry had been excited, but then he'd seen Hermione glaring at them as he had been gloating with Ron about how it was really all thanks to Malfoy being a bullying git.

Harry's face had fallen, and he had thought that he should try apologising again for last week. Hermione's eyes had seemed to flicker when she saw Harry's expression change; she had opened her mouth to say something.

But then Ron had scowled at her.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us," he had snarled. "Don't stop now - it's doing us a world of good."

Hermione had whirled around and marched off angrily. For the first time ever, Harry had felt like hitting Ron - but he had said nothing to the first friend that he'd ever had, and it started to eat away at him. Harry had barely been able to concentrate in classes all day as all he had thought about was his upcoming first ever Quidditch Practice - and Hermione Granger.

Despite everything, once he was in the air, Harry had felt an exhilarating sense of freedom. He had caught every golf ball which the Gryffindor team captain, Oliver Wood, had hurled into the air. Harry had wanted to try it with the real Golden Snitch, but Oliver Wood hadn't wanted to lose it, as it was getting dark. Finally, an extremely impressed Oliver Wood had said it was too dark to go on at all, and they had packed it in for the night.

The next few weeks had passed quickly. Lessons were growing extremely interesting now that Harry had mastered the basics. But the pressure was on, as Harry had team practice three nights a week, and Oliver had strongly reminded Harry that Professor McGonagall had bent the rules to allow a First Year student to play Quidditch, and suggested that Harry practice everyday.

As much as Harry loved Quidditch and flying, he also wanted to do well in school, and he was afraid that he would start falling behind - especially as Ron wasn't keen on spending their time together doing homework. Harry had begun to feel a bit desperate - and he couldn't get Hermione Granger out of his head either.

And it wasn't just because Harry was interested in study tips - he really wanted to get to know Hermione, as a friend. Harry had wanted to be her friend ever since the day Hermione had said that she didn't want Harry to get hurt or unfairly punished for going after Malfoy - the day that Harry had told her that you had to stand up to bullies.

And every time Ron had bad-mouthed Hermione when she was nearby, Harry's feelings of guilt and resentment had grown stronger. If there was one thing Harry really hated, it was bullies - but Ron was his first ever friend. And Harry had no idea how to tell a friend to stop being a bully.

**~o0o~**

Before Harry knew it, Halloween had arrived and he was glumly sitting in Charms practice with Seamus Finnegan wishing that he could switch places with Ron, who had been partnered with Hermione. Harry couldn't tell who was angrier between Ron and Hermione, all he knew was that he felt like exploding himself.

They were all trying to make feathers fly of their own accord. Seamus managed to make his and Harry's feather burst into flame. Professor Flitwick brought them a new feather and patiently demonstrated again.

"It's a nice simple wrist movement..." squeaked the diminutive Professor. "Remember - swish and flick."

Ron was flinging his arm around like a propeller.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he yelled at the feather.

"You're saying it all wrong," Hermione fumed.

Harry rather thought that Ron's problem went a lot deeper than poor pronunciation, but he paid close attention when Hermione pronounced it correctly.

"It's Win- _ **gar**_ -dium Levi- _ **o**_ -sa... make gar nice and long and put the accent on the o..." she said.

"Go on then little Miss Know-It-All..." snarled Ron, "Let's see _**you**_ do it if you're so bloody clever!"

Harry had to admire Hermione's restraint and composure considering the great duress that Ron was putting her under. She sniffed haughtily and delicately flicked her wrist as she precisely enunciated the incantation. The feather lifted several feet off the desk and floated in mid-air. Harry focused his attention, ignoring Ron's huffing, and copied Hermione meticulously.

"Oh look..." Professor Flitwick remarked loudly, "Miss Granger and Mr Potter have both gone and done it... well done you two! Five points apiece to Gryffindor!"

When Ron's ears turned beet red, Harry thought he might see steam shoot out of them at any moment. Ron was in the foulest mood that Harry had ever seen him in - not even Draco Malfoy, Snape, or Filch had ever managed to infuriate Ron so completely.

When the lesson was over, Harry walked out of class quickly hoping to avoid Ron, but Ron barged through the other students and rushed up beside him.

"Can you believe her? Win- _ **GAR**_ -dium Levi- _ **OOOOOO**_ -sa," Ron sneered mockingly, miming an effete wrist movement, "It's no _**wonder**_ she doesn't have any friends - She's a Bloody Nightmare!"

Several other students giggled and nodded. Hermione pushed past Ron and Harry, bursting into tears, running down the hallway sobbing. She darted around the bend and was gone.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Ron as something snapped inside of him.

"What's wrong with _**you?"**_ asked Ron.

"What's wrong with _**me?"**_ Harry shouted. "You should be asking _**yourself**_ that! You sound like my bloody cousin Dudley...a big bullying _**git!**_ ...and you eat like him too!"

Ron's jaw dropped and he stood there in the middle of the corridor gaping in bewilderment at Harry's bizarre pronouncement as he watched his best friend storm off to look for the Bossy Know-It-All.

Harry never did find Hermione, and she wasn't in any of their classes all afternoon. He sat as far away from Ron as possible, who kept squirming, shrugging, and shooting Harry befuddled "what did _**I**_ do" looks.

Harry had never been more miserable on Halloween. Not even the Halloween decorations, nor the hundreds of live bats fluttering above, nor the sumptuous feast held any interest for him. Hermione was still nowhere to be seen and Harry refused to look at Ron who was still trying to get his attention with a hurt expression on his face.

Harry picked at his food, until he saw Parvati Patil glowering at Ron and overheard her telling Lavender Brown that Hermione had been crying in the girl's bathroom on the first floor all afternoon. Ron flushed uncomfortably, which was the first sign of remorse that Harry had seen on his face all day.

But Harry wasn't feeling in a particularly forgiving mood. Hermione probably thought Harry hated her too, or else surely he would have defended her like he'd defended Neville. Harry pushed his plate away and went to look for the girl's bathroom to apologise to Hermione. Ron looked even more confused and started eating a piece of Pumpkin Pie.

Not more than twenty minutes later Professor Quirrell skidded into the Great Hall, stammering and sputtering loudly with a terrified expression on his face.

"T...t...t...troll... in the dungeon!" he shouted before his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. He keeled to the floor and passed out.

The Great Hall erupted into bedlam as students began screaming and squealing. Ron's eyes bulged when he anxiously realised that Harry still wasn't back, and he had no idea where Harry had gone. He began to panic, and not knowing what else to do, Ron swiveled around and tried to get Percy's attention. But Percy was too busy being a pompous prat and trying to order everyone about to listen to anything Ron had to say.

Ron caught Parvati's eye and swallowed his pride, suddenly realising where Harry had gone.

**~o0o~**

Harry managed to find the first floor girl's lavatory relatively easily. Swallowing nervously, he pushed the bathroom door open a crack and heard sobbing. Feeling fairly reassured that no other girls were using the facilities, he entered the bathroom.

"Er... Hermione - is that you?" he asked tentatively.

Hermione's sobs halted and she called out in a shaky voice from the stall that she was in.

"Who's there? This is the girl's loo - go away! I want to be alone!"

"It's me... Harry! I just found out you were in here... and I wanted to apologise. I'm really sorry Hermione..."

"Why do you even care about me?" Hermione shouted. "Why _**now?**_ After all this time...? Ron's been mean to me for _**weeks**_ \- and..." Hermione's voice broke into another loud sob, then she continued "...and you never said anything _**then!"**_

"I thought you must hate me too... I'm just a stupid Bossy Know-It-All! Who could possibly like me enough to stand up for _**me...?"**_ Hermione lost it again and began sobbing uncontrollably.

Harry's heart shattered into million tiny little pieces. He knew how much it hurt to feel all alone - like nobody cared about him. But Harry hated talking about it... How could he not? It would be like admitting that he really was a freak who deserved a good thumping. He'd never told anyone - not even Ron.

All Harry had ever told Ron was that his aunt, uncle and cousin were horrible and didn't like magic - that they made Harry wear Dudley's old clothes and didn't give him any presents.

Trembling, Harry moved towards the toilet-stall that Hermione was sobbing in and opened the door. He swallowed again... not sure how to begin.

"I... I'm really sorry Hermione... It's hard for me to explain - I... I've never had any friends before I met Ron on the train..."

Hermione stifled her sobs and peered at Harry incredulously.

"You're just _**saying**_ that to try and make me feel better because you know that _**I**_ don't have any friends... How can _**you**_ not have any friends? Everybody knows you - you're famous! You're in all those history books..."

"I didn't even know I was a wizard until a month before school-term..." Harry said quietly, steeling himself to tell the truth. " _ **That's**_ why I didn't know what you were on about on the train. My aunt and uncle _**hate**_ me... They hated my parents because my mum and dad were wizards..."

"They never told me anything except lies... that my mum and dad were drunks who died in a car crash. And they never let me have any friends - they told all the neighbours that I was a dangerous nutter and wouldn't let me play with anyone - they let my cousin and his gang beat me up all the time - my Uncle..." Harry croaked, barely able to say it.

"...Uncle Vernon... He hits me too sometimes - he calls me a freak - they _**all**_ do..."

Hermione looked utterly horrified; she bore a sickly expression of revulsion but Harry kept going. He didn't know why, but now that he'd started talking he couldn't stop.

"...I never even had a bedroom - they used to lock me in a cupboard under the stairs until they started getting my Hogwarts letters. S...so... when I met Ron on the train - he was the first person besides Hagrid who ever liked me..."

"I'm sorry, I know it's n...not a good excuse, b...but that's wh...why it was hard for me to say anything to Ron wh...when he was being mean to you! Ron was my first ever friend..."

Hermione started crying again, but this time as her tears rolled down her cheeks, her trembling breath was barely audible.

"Th...that _**is**_ a good excuse..." she almost whispered, "I'm sorry... I had n..."

 **"No!"** Harry interrupted her. "It's _**not...**_ I _**hate**_ the way he treats you - and I hate _**myself**_ for letting him! And today was just too much for me to take anymore! I..." Harry gulped as he got to the hardest bit, "...I'd rather be _**your**_ friend Hermione..."

Suddenly Hermione lurched forward.

Harry flinched, not knowing what to expect, and was shocked when she flung her arms around him and buried her bushy head under his chin. Usually when people came at him, he had to dodge blows; he'd never been on the receiving end of a hug before - at least not in his memory. Harry stiffened awkwardly, but the heat of Hermione's embrace - teary as it was - began to melt his glacial tension.

"I'd like that very much too Harry..." Hermione sniffled into his chest. "B...but you don't have to give up your friendship with Ron just for me. I understand now - and it's alright to have more than one friend, even if they don't like each other... I can try harder to ignore him! Like my parents told me I should do when people make fun of me!" 

Harry grit his teeth at the terrible advice Hermione's parents had given her. But it was hard to stay cross while she was hugging him.

"You won't have to," Harry murmured as a fuzzy warm sensation unlike anything he'd felt before filled him. "I'll tell him off from now on... Urgh! What's that smell?"

Harry wrinkled his nose; the toilet hadn't smelled this dreadful when he'd come in. Then the whole lavatory shook as if there had been a small earthquake. Harry spun around and peered out of the stall. His eyes nearly popped out of his head at the hideous sight and Hermione let out an ear piercing scream.

It was a troll - at least that was Harry's best guess - an ugly dingy greyish creature at least four metres tall wearing a filthy loincloth and brandishing an enormous wooden club. The foul stinking monster roared and swung his bludgeon.

Harry yanked Hermione out of the stall in the nick of time and pushed her behind him against the tiled wall. The club demolished the stall which they had just departed from on impact, shattering the toilet, and water began to geyser from the burst pipes.

"I'll distract him... Hermione, _**run!"**_ yelled Harry as the beast lumbered towards them splashing through the puddles and gushing water, but she was petrified with fright and couldn't move.

His heart pounded in his ears and Harry wished he knew more spells. He couldn't think of anything that he'd learned yet which would be helpful in a fight with a gigantic monster. Then an idea struck him. Harry pointed his wand at the club as the troll began to swing again. He swished and flicked as he carefully muttered the incantation and the club soared out of troll's grubby hands.

The troll paused and stared in bewilderment at his hovering bludgeon. Harry instinctively directed the bludgeon until it was several metres above the troll's head and he released the spell. The club fell straight down, slamming into the troll's thick skull with a sickening crack.

Harry and Hermione both held their breaths as the mountainous beast teetered dangerously, then it slowly toppled and hit the floor with a thunderous boom that rocked the entire lavatory. Harry and Hermione were both drenched by the subsequent splash when it struck the ground.

Hermione was still quivering with fright as they stared at the fallen beast; Harry instinctively wrapped his arms tightly around her.

"Good Heavens!" gasped Professor McGonagall, suddenly appearing in the doorway with Ron and Parvati. Her features were pale with shock as she took in the scene.

Snape's face appeared right beside hers, no less pallid - but that was his usual colouration. Only the narrowing of Snape's dark glittering eyes suggested any sort of emotion. Fresh anxiety churned in Harry's gut as he wondered how much trouble they might be in.

Quirrell brought up the rear, trembling like a leaf at the sight of the unconscious troll.

"Well... I never... how did you...?" Professor McGonagall could barely get her words out.

"Harry saved me!" Hermione finally managed to squeak, still somewhat shakily. "H...He used the Wingardium Leviosa spell and bonked the troll on the head with its own club."

"A _**First Year**_ bringing down a mountain troll all by himself? Truly astonishing... well done _**indeed**_ Mr Potter!" McGonagall eyed her student proudly. "Fifty points to Gryffindor for your quick thinking and Chivalry! I must say that when Mr Weasley and Miss Patil brought your disappearance to my attention that I feared the worst..."

Ron glanced at Hermione who was still shivering in Harry's embrace. When the pair of them peered back at Ron in surprise, he shuffled and stared at his feet abjectly.

"I'm really sorry Hermione - it was my fault you were in here all day, and that Harry had to come find you. I was really horrible to you. I'm sorry for being such a prat..." Ron looked up again at Harry.

"I tried to get Percy to help," Ron continued stiffly, "but he wouldn't listen. Parvati suggested we get McGonagall when we both realised you must have gone looking for Hermione. I... I just want you to know that I'm sorry too...and... and I hope we can still be friends Harry."

Harry felt a lump in his throat, and gazed back at Ron uncertainly. All Harry was sure of at the moment was that he really liked Hermione and didn't want anyone to be mean to her. But Harry had to admit that he still cared about Ron - even if he was a bit thick and rude. They did have loads of fun together sometimes.

"Just try to be a bit nicer alright!" Harry sighed, giving Ron a half-smile. Harry caught Snape's dark gaze again, but was a bit taken aback to see that the glittering malevolence had dissipated; the Potion Master's features were now inscrutable.

"Well, I must say that I am quite pleased that you three have worked that out," said Professor McGonagall. "And I must give you some credit Mr Weasley, for being brave enough to admit your culpability and make amends. Alright then come along everyone, off to Gryffindor with you - the feast is continuing in the Common Room!"

As they made their way to Gryffindor Tower, Harry and Hermione thanked Parvati warmly, both remembering how she'd stuck up for Neville on the day of the Remembrall Incident. Ron ambled slightly behind everyone, still feeling a bit awkward, but much happier now that Harry seemed to have at least conditionally accepted his apology.

Harry gave Professor McGonagall one last hesitant look as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. As McGonagall watched Harry pass through the entrance, she was left with the distinct impression that he had wanted to tell her something, but then thought better of it, perhaps to leave it for a more appropriate time.

Professor McGonagall had almost reached the gargoyle which guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office when it suddenly struck her. Mr Potter was clearly taken with Miss Granger, who was perhaps her most fastidious student. The House Mistress of Gryffindor groaned when she realised that she might have to make some adjustments if she wanted Mr Potter to remain on the Quidditch Team.

McGonagall shook her head as she acknowledged her own appalling behaviour in regards to looking out for Mr Potter's best interests. His education must take precedence over her desire for a House Victory at any cost. As she climbed the staircase to Dumbledore's Office, Professor McGonagall took some solace in the fact that Harry Potter was a Natural, born to fly, with remarkable hand-eye coordination. There was a good chance he could perform just as well on match days with far less practice if necessary.


	2. Friendship and Bravery

Something gleaming and Golden fluttered just of reach, taunting Harry. The Snitch! He tried to grab it but his arms wouldn’t move. Then his eyes focused and he realised it wasn’t the Snitch at all. It was the late afternoon sun reflecting off Hermione Granger’s tawny brown tresses as she peered worriedly at him.

“Harry! Thank goodness you’re awake...” she squeaked. 

Harry blinked again and Professor Dumbledore came into view.

“Good Afternoon Harry,” said the Headmaster.

“Quirrell!” Harry gasped, “It was him all along! Not Snape! Quirrell’s got the Stone... ” 

“Calm yourself my dear boy. Quirrell does not have the Stone...” Dumbledore began to say.

“Who does then?” Harry interjected as he started to panic. Why wouldn’t any of the Professors ever believe him? “Sir, I swear - it was Quirrell...”

“Please Harry, relax...” Professor Dumbledore held up his hand for emphasis. “Quirrell does _**not**_ have the Stone and you are NOT in trouble. And if you cannot calm yourself, Madam Pomfrey will turf me out.”

“Hmmph!” snorted the school nurse. “Fat chance of that! I couldn’t even get rid of Miss Granger. She’s refused to leave Mr Potter’s bedside for three days, and _**someone**_ overrode my authority!” she concluded with an angry glare.

“Indeed!” The Headmaster’s eyes twinkled as he regarded the cross looking witch. “Minerva seems quite taken with our young Heroes. Be thankful that she didn’t allow Mr Longbottom, Mr Weasley, and Miss Patil to remain by Mr Potter’s side as well!”

Harry took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes and put them back on again and looked around. He was in the Hospital Wing, covered in a crisp white linen sheet and the bedside table was piled high with sweets, cards, and vases of flowers. And Hermione Granger was sitting in a chair beside him, holding his hand.

“Three days?” Harry croaked, as his head began to throb painfully. “I’ve been here for _**three days...?”**_

Hermione nodded, biting her lip as a tear rolled down one cheek.

“I’ve been so worried Harry! I thought you might never...” Hermione trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. The thought of Harry never waking up was too horrible to contemplate.

Harry slumped back on his pillow and squeezed Hermione’s hand as everything flooded back.

**~o0o~**

After the Troll Incident on Halloween, Neville had mentioned seeing Snape heading for the Third Floor, where Neville, Ron, Hermione, and Harry had found the giant three headed dog when running from Filch in the middle of the night several weeks before.

Harry hadn’t noticed Snape limping when he’d shown up at the girl’s bathroom with Professor McGonagall, but in the days following it had been hard to miss. Snape had been lurching around and taken away the library book, _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , which Hermione had found for Harry. When Harry had tried to ask for it back, he had discovered Snape complaining to Filch about the three headed dog.

Hermione wasn’t sure what that was all about, but it had furthered her growing concern about the arbitrary nature of the rules, and the selective enforcement patterns of the professors at Hogwarts. It was yet another instance which had brought into question everything that Hermione’s parents had ever taught her about trusting that those in authority always knew what was best. 

Then had come Harry’s first ever Quidditch match. Gryffindor was playing against Slytherin, and Harry had been pleased to have his own personal little cheering section. Ron had been doing his best to be nice to Hermione, though it was clearly still a struggle for him. They had sat in the stands together, along with Neville, Parvati, and Parvati’s friend, Lavender Brown - all rooting for Harry.

Harry had been so sure that it was Snape who had hexed his broom. Even Hermione had thought so. When she had surreptitiously set Snape’s robe on fire, the spell had ended and Harry had been able to complete the game, proceeding to a victory for Gryffindor. 

Hagrid had invited Harry and his friends to tea after the match, and even though Ron, Hermione, and Parvati all swore that they had seen Snape cursing Harry’s broom, Hagrid had refused to believe them.

“Codswallop - why would Snape do somethin’ like that?” he had said, looking a bit shifty.

Harry had swallowed nervously and decided to tell him the truth about discovering that Snape had been bitten by the mad monster dog with three heads - “Fluffy” Hagrid had called it - and that he and Hermione suspected that it was guarding whatever Hagrid had retrieved from Gringotts before the break-in.

“Snape’s trying to steal it - he must be...” Harry had told Hagrid. 

“Nonsense! Snape's one o' the professors tryin' ter protect it,” Hagrid had crossly retorted. 

Then Hagrid had let slip the bit about Nicholas Flamel before clamming up and not saying another word. Harry knew he had heard the name somewhere before. He and Hermione had dug through books in the library until Christmas trying to work out who Flamel was, with no success. 

Harry had very mixed feelings about Christmas. For the first time in his life he had got presents, but Hermione had left to spend the holidays with her parents, and Harry had missed her loads. It had been alright spending it with the Weasley brothers - the Twins were a barrel of laughs, they’d all had a snowball fight, and he’d played a bit of chess with Ron - but it didn’t feel right without Hermione.

Harry had been surprised that Ron’s mum had sent him gifts - Ron must have told her that Harry had never got presents before. Hermione had given him a box of chocolate frogs, but Harry didn’t want to open it until she was back. 

The most interesting “present” had actually belonged to his father originally - the Invisibility Cloak. Harry had peered at the spidery writing on the note which had come with it. 

“Use it well,” the note had said, but there was no signature. 

It didn’t look like Hagrid’s scratchy scrawling, nor did it appear to be Professor McGonagall’s neat-as-a-pin penmanship. Harry had begun to wonder how well the Headmaster had known his father. When Dumbledore had found Harry, sitting in the store-room with the Mirror of Erised, the Headmaster hadn’t seemed surprised.

“I don’t need a cloak to become invisible,” the Headmaster had said softly. Harry had been sure of it then. Dumbledore must have had the cloak for some reason and wanted to return it to Harry. 

Harry had been extremely happy when Hermione returned after the Christmas holiday, though she had been a bit disappointed that Harry hadn’t worked out who Nicholas Flamel was yet. 

Snow had turned into rain, and Oliver Wood had been driving the rest of the Quidditch Team spare making them practice in the stormy weather. Harry was pleased that Professor McGonagall had given him permission to spend less time training so that he could spend more time studying with Hermione.

Finding out that Snape would be refereeing the next Quidditch match had been quite a shock though. When Harry told them, Hermione and Ron had both been very concerned. At that moment Neville had toppled through the portal into the Gryffindor Common Room, a victim of the Leg-Locker Curse.

“It was Malfoy,” Neville had said miserably. “I’m pathetic...”

“Rubbish,” Harry had retorted adamantly while Hermione reversed the spell, much to Neville’s relief, “You’re worth a dozen Malfoys...” 

Harry had opened the box of Chocolate Frogs that Hermione had given him at Christmas, and shared them out, giving one to Neville. And that’s when Harry had finally realised where he’d heard about Nicholas Flamel before - on the back of the Famous Wizard Trading Card featuring Albus Dumbledore. 

Harry and Hermione had now solved part of the mystery: Fluffy had to be guarding the Philosopher’s Stone which had been created by Nicholas Flamel. But they still weren’t certain why Snape was apparently trying to steal it.

Then had come the Quidditch match vs Hufflepuff. Ron and Neville had got into a fight with Malfoy and his goon-squad, Crabbe and Goyle, and Harry had won the game for Gryffindor, much to Snape’s bitter disappointment. Hermione had jumped up on her seat shrieking happily and hugged Parvati. 

Harry had been relishing the victory and storing his broomstick in the shed when he had spied the lanky hooded figure prowling the grounds and sneaking into the Forbidden Forest. Harry would have recognised that stride anywhere; it was Snape. Cautiously, Harry had followed Snape, hopping back onto his broom and gliding just above the trees. 

Harry had peered through the leaves into a clearing and he had to stifle a gasp when he overheard Snape threatening Quirrell, trying to make him reveal the secrets guarding the Philosopher’s Stone.

“Have you found out how to get past Hagrid’s pet monster yet?” 

“B...b...but S...Severus...”

“You don’t want me as your enemy, Quirrell,” Snape had said menacingly. 

Feeling a bit panicky, Harry had dashed back to the castle before he could be discovered. He had unfortunately missed dinner but he hadn’t really cared at that point.

“Harry, where have you been?” Hermione had squealed, giving Harry an anxious hug.

“We won Harry... and I gave Malfoy a black eye...” Ron had gloated.

“Never mind that...” Harry had muttered breathlessly. 

Harry had pulled Hermione and Ron into an empty classroom and told them everything.

“So it’s true!” Hermione had gasped, her voice full of dread, “The Stone is only safe as long as Quirrell can hold out against Snape!”

Several weeks had gone by, and Quirrell had appeared to be standing firm. Whenever he’d had the chance, Harry had listened outside the door on the third floor, just to make sure that Fluffy was still inside.

As Harry and Hermione had begun studying for exams - still ten weeks away at that time - their trepidation had grown. Ron had scoffed at their early preparations.

“Blimey Harry, give it a rest... you’re getting as bad as Hermione.”

Harry had glared at Ron, and Ron had shut up and gone to find someone else to play a game of chess with. But even Hermione needed a break every once in a while, and they had taken some time off to visit Hagrid when they had discovered him in the library looking at books about Dragon Breeding. 

Ron had thought Hagrid was barmy when they found Hagrid trying to hatch a dragon egg, and even Harry and Hermione were forced to agree. 

“I can’t _**believe**_ him,” Hermione had fumed as they departed. “Hagrid is so irresponsible. He lives in a wooden hut. He’ll get into so much trouble.” 

Harry had sighed. He knew that Hermione didn’t want Hagrid to get into trouble any more than he did. But neither of them knew how to make Hagrid see reason. Harry had almost considered going to Dumbledore. But Hermione had by this time lost all confidence in the ability of the professors at Hogwarts to enforce the rules with any sense of fairness. 

It was true, Hagrid had been ridiculous to think that he could illegally raise a dragon in secret, but he didn’t deserve to get sacked over it. At that point, neither Hermione nor Harry trusted that the other professors or the Headmaster would protect Hagrid’s job. 

But things had come to a head when Hagrid had invited Ron, Harry, and Hermione to observe the hatching. And even Hermione hadn’t been able resist witnessing something so precious. But the event had been marred.

“Oi, who’s that then?” Hagrid had said worriedly when spotted a blond haired boy peering through his window. Harry had looked out through the pane of glass at the figure running away.

“Draco Malfoy,” he had groaned. “Hagrid, you _**have**_ to get rid of the dragon before Malfoy turns you in.”

“My brother Charlie is a dragon handler,” Ron had said. “He should be able to help!” 

After a few weeks, Hagrid had accepted the inevitable. So they had gone out of their way, at great risk to themselves, to help Hagrid get rid of Norbert the Baby Dragon. In the end, it had been Harry and Hermione who had taken it upon themselves to sneak Norbert up to the top of the Astronomy Tower and pass him over to several dragon handler friends of Charlie Weasley’s in the dead of night.. 

Unfortunately, upon leaving the Astronomy Tower to return to Gryffindor, Harry and Hermione had forgotten the Invisibility Cloak at the top of the Tower, and ended up getting detention with Malfoy, who had been determined to get them into trouble. Neville had been caught by McGonagall trying to warn Harry and Hermione and they had all ended up losing fifty points apiece, which had caused them all to become instant pariahs in Gryffindor. 

Neville had cried himself to sleep that night.

For all that Harry felt bad about Neville having detention with them and Draco Malfoy, he had refused point blank to allow Hagrid to partner himself or Hermione with Draco when he had discovered that detention would entail hunting whatever was killing the unicorns in the Forbidden Forest.

“I’m sorry Neville, I know you don’t deserve this,” Harry had told him, then he had turned to Hagrid. “Look Hagrid - I’m sticking with Hermione. _**We’ll**_ take Fang and _**you**_ can look after Malfoy and Neville... Hermione and I can look after ourselves.” 

Harry had given Hagrid a hard stare, and after a moment, Hagrid had relented. 

“Righ’ then Harry...” Hagrid had sighed, “It’s my fault you lot are all out here anyway... I can’ thank yeh enough fer stickin’ yer neck out fer me. Jus’ be careful you two. Fang’s a bit of a coward.”

Sure enough, Fang had run off when Harry and Hermione had come across a wraith-like hooded shadow slithering through the fallen leaves in the moonlight. The creature had looked up from the dead unicorn, silvery blood dripping from its mouth. Harry had felt his scar burning, but he had ignored the blinding pain and stepped in front of Hermione before a centaur had burst into the clearing and charged at the Shade.

Moments later the centaur had pulled Harry and Hermione onto his back and departed the clearing. Trembling with fright, Hermione had nonetheless held Harry tightly to prevent him from falling off the centaur. 

_**“Voldemort,”**_ Harry had gasped. He had slumped in Hermione’s arms, shaking, as the searing agony had continued to burn in his forehead. “That was Voldemort wasn’t it!?” 

“Yes,” the palomino centaur had replied. “You are the Potter boy are you not? My name is Firenze. It is not safe for you in the forest. You must leave at once...”

Firenze had returned them to Hagrid, who was beside himself with worry. Hermione had helped Harry stagger back to the Gryffindor common room where they had found Ron asleep, waiting for them to return. Still shaking, Harry had begun to tell Ron everything.

“It was Voldemort - Snape’s not trying to steal the Stone for himself... He wants it for Voldemort!”

 _ **“Stop saying his name,”**_ Ron had hissed angrily. 

Hermione had glared at Ron. 

“I can’t believe you - leave Harry alone,” she had snapped. “ _ **Harry’s**_ the one who’s just had to face him...” 

Hermione had dragged Harry up to his dormitory and put him to bed where they discovered that Dumbledore had returned his Invisibility Cloak with a note: “Just in case.”

“I don’t understand Hermione,” Harry had muttered darkly. “Dumbledore obviously knows what’s going on around here, and yet we both still got detention for trying to do something good to help Hagrid. And why give me back my cloak? To get me into more trouble? It doesn’t make sense!”

“I’m not sure Harry! Maybe Dumbledore doesn’t trust some of the professors either, and he thinks you might need it. He _**must**_ know that one of them is trying to steal the Stone for Voldemort, but he’s not sure who to trust.” 

“And he could be afraid that Voldemort might...” Hermione’s breath had caught as she had peered anxiously at Harry, “...that he might try to go after you again!” 

As everyone else finally began preparing for exams, Ron, Neville, and Parvati had expressed fear about Voldemort, but they hadn’t seemed quite as worried about the Stone as Harry and Hermione. 

But nor had they seen what was lurking in the Forbidden Forest. _**They**_ hadn’t woken up shaking from the nightmares or with stabbing pains in their heads like Harry did every night. Hermione was the only one who really understood. She was terrified for Harry. They had both managed to get through exams, but the worry had taken a toll. Harry’s nightmares had grown worse and his head hurt all the time now.

“I dunno mate - you should go see Madam Pomfrey...” Ron had muttered dismissively in the sweltering day after exams.

“I’m not ill - it’s got something to do with Voldemort...” Harry had angrily retorted. 

“Blimey Harry, _**don’t say his name**_ \- it’s too hot for this. I’m melting. Just relax - the Stone is safe as long as Dumbledore’s around. There’s no proof that Snape ever got past Fluffy - and Hagrid won’t let Dumbledore down.”

Harry had shaken his head in frustration and Hermione had rolled her eyes. Norbert had instantly just crossed both their minds. Hagrid would never intentionally let Dumbledore down, but it had suddenly become obvious to both of them now what had happened.

“Where’re you two going?” Ron had sleepily asked.

“To find out more about who Hagrid got the Dragon from...” Harry had snapped. “Bit odd don’t you think - that a stranger would just show up and randomly give Hagrid a dragon egg?”

“But go ahead and take a nap Ronald,” Hermione had said acidly, “I’m sure you need your beauty rest!”

That had woken Ron up. He didn’t _really_ want to let Harry down, but he had grumbled all the way to Hagrid’s hut. When they had spoken to Hagrid, their worst fears had been confirmed. Hagrid had inadvertently let slip how to get past Fluffy. 

The three of them had gone straight to McGonagall, and Ron had finally become convinced that there was something to worry about when she told them that Dumbledore had taken a trip to London. 

Hermione and Harry had tried to make McGonagall see reason. But to Hermione’s utter dismay, the professor had simply told them that the Stone was perfectly safe and to go back out and enjoy the sunshine. She had even threatened to dock more points if they tried anything foolish. 

Then they had run into Professor Snape, and he had threatened to personally make sure that Harry and Hermione were expelled if he caught them wandering around at night again. Hermione had been as outraged as Harry, and they had made plans.

“I suppose this is it,” Harry had said grimly. “This must be why Dumbledore gave me back the cloak - in case something called him away. McGonagall won’t listen, and Snape’s going after the Stone to get it for Voldemort tonight. We’ll just have to get to the Stone first.”

“I’ll look through some books for some useful spells,” Hermione had said briskly.

“We _both_ will,” Harry had muttered. “I’ve got nothing better to do between now and tonight...”

“You’re both barking!” Ron had gasped “After what McGonagall and Snape said? You’ll both be expelled, not to mention losing Gryffindor loads more points...”

 _ **“BLOODY HELL RON!”**_ Harry had shouted. _**“Don’t you understand? If Voldemort gets the Stone, he’s coming back. He’s a bloody murderer. HE KILLED MY PARENTS - he’ll go after me again... and he won’t stop there. Voldemort will go after Hermione and every other muggleborn he can find and kill them all.”**_

“And he’ll _**murder anyone else**_ that gets in his way. _**Who cares about winning the bloody House Cup... or getting expelled?**_ None of that’s important compared to dying! If Voldemort comes back he’ll turn Hogwarts into a school for Dark Arts! _**Is that what you want?”**_

Ron had flushed in shame. That wasn’t what he wanted at all. He just hadn’t thought it all through.

“Will the cloak cover all three of us?” Ron had asked. 

Harry and Hermione had stared at him in surprise. Ron had swallowed nervously and peered at Harry, his ears turning red. 

“Look mate - I’m sorry... I was being stupid! You’re right of course. But you two can’t do this all by yourselves...”

“He’s right you know,” a girl’s voice had interrupted Ron. “You’ll need as much help as you can get.”

Harry had spun around and spotted Parvati and Neville. Harry had thought that everyone was still outside enjoying the sunshine, and that he and Hermione and Ron were alone in the Common Room. But Parvati and Neville had entered just as Harry had started shouting and heard everything.

“We’re all in this together Harry,” Neville had said, his voice thick with bitterness, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. “I... I know what You-Know-Who is capable of! My parents - they might be better off dead after what his supporters did to them!”

Of course not everyone could fit under Harry’s invisibility cloak. In the end, Harry had gone after the Stone with Hermione and Ron, but Parvati and Neville had agreed to go and wake up McGonagall if the three of them weren’t back in an hour. 

They had got past Fluffy, the Devil’s Snare, and the Flying Keys. Ron had taken a bludgeoning during the Giant Chess Match. Hermione had worked out the potions riddle, but there had only been enough potion to get one of them through the purple flames.

Hermione’s lips had trembled, her eyes glistening wetly. She had flung herself at Harry and thrown her arms around him. Harry had held her tightly as his own eyes moistened; he never wanted to let her go. 

Harry didn’t like other people touching him, but he liked Hermione’s hugs, and he had wondered if he would survive to get another one.

“You’re a great wizard Harry,” she had whispered.

“I wish I was as good as you!”

 _“Me?”_ Hermione had squeaked, “Books! And Cleverness! And anyway, don’t sell yourself short. _**You’re**_ good at those things too - but there are more important things Harry: fairness - friendship and bravery - and love. You’ve shown me _all_ those things...”

Then she had given Harry a kiss on the cheek and let him go. Harry had been stunned - his cheek still burning where Hermione's lips had been - and he had blushed, not knowing how to respond. He had taken one last look at Hermione as the tears in her eyes began falling.

“Be careful Harry,” were the last words of kindness he had heard before the darkness.

**~o0o~**

Harry gave Hermione’s hand another gentle squeeze and looked at the Headmaster again.

“So what _did_ happen to the Stone sir?” Harry asked, a bit more quietly this time.

“I see that you are determined Harry,” Dumbledore replied gently. “Very well - Quirrell never retrieved the Stone from you. I arrived just in time to watch him collapsing in your grip and pulled him off you. But he was finished anyway. And as to the Stone itself - it has been destroyed...”

“Destroyed?” Harry frowned in puzzlement. “But what about your friend Nicholas Flamel?”

“I discussed the matter with him at great length, and we have both agreed that it is for the best,” said Dumbledore. “He and his wife have enough Elixir left to settle their affairs and live a good while longer before passing on to the next great adventure.”

Harry nodded, then wished he hadn’t as his head began to throb again. Hermione looked alarmed when Harry winced in pain. 

The Headmaster shuffled uncomfortably in his seat and his cheeks reddened slightly when Hermione Granger sat on the hospital bed and hugged young Harry Potter. But Dumbledore smiled when he saw Harry’s pain diminishing in her embrace. It was a hopeful sign.

“Sir...” Harry looked directly into the Headmaster’s clear blue eyes and steeled himself. Dumbledore was a bit taken aback by what he saw. “Sir - Voldemort’s going to keep coming back isn’t he? He means to keep coming back until he restores himself and finishes me off doesn’t he? And when he’s done that, he’s going to try and take Britain again...”

Albus Dumbledore was at a loss for words. He hadn’t anticipated this - he had thought that Harry was much too young to be told. Seeing the Headmaster falter, Harry pushed further.

“Voldemort told me that he only killed my mother to get to me. And Hagrid once told me that something about me prevented Voldemort from killing me, and that Voldemort vanished after trying to kill me - but Hagrid also said there wasn’t enough human in him left to die completely...” 

“I know that’s true - because I saw Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest drinking Unicorn blood to stay alive... And I remember Mr Ollivander telling me that my wand shared the same core as Voldemort’s... ” 

“And my scar - it hurts when I’m near Voldemort - I know that means that somehow we’re connected - Voldemort chose me for a reason didn’t he? He knows that there’s something about me that might finish him off for good... One of us is going to have to kill the other eventually aren’t we!?”

Harry sat up a bit and Hermione nervously turned to face Dumbledore as well. The Headmaster’s twinkles had disappeared; his face was ashen and grey. Harry knew that he’d struck a nerve.

“Sir, you sent me my dad’s invisibility cloak to help me survive, didn’t you!? But I need to know _**everything**_ that you know if I’m ever going to have a chance to fight Voldemort properly...”

“Yes Harry,” Dumbledore’s voice creaked. “You are correct. You and Voldemort share a connection in more ways than one - and I have been a fool to believe that you were too young to understand. There is a prophecy - and though prophecies are a dubious business, the fact that Voldemort believes it makes the point moot - he means to fulfill it one way or the other!” 

“I will tell you everything I know - and everything that I suspect but cannot be certain of...”

**~o0o~**

Finally, after being in the hospital wing for another day, Madam Pomfrey had grudgingly allowed Harry to go to the end of term feast. As Harry departed from the infirmary, hand in hand with Hermione Granger, the school nurse allowed herself a secret smile. Lavender and Parvati whispered and giggled when they saw Harry and Hermione enter the Great Hall holding hands.

“I saved you both seats together,” Parvati called out. 

Hermione sat down next to Parvati, and Harry took a seat next to Neville. Ron grinned at him from the other side of the table.

“Too bad the Slytherins are gonna win the House Cup, but it’s good to see you up and about Harry!” 

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to my last proper meal at Hogwarts,” said Harry, grinning back at Ron. Hermione frowned slightly but didn’t say anything as Harry continued, “Madam Pomfrey had me on a strict diet last night and most of today. It was _**gruel**_ ing...” 

Neville and Parvati groaned at Harry’s dreadful pun, but Lavender giggled. Hermione shook her head slightly, but she had a bit of a smirk and Ron snorted with laughter. 

The merriment was interrupted by the Headmaster’s announcement that there would be a slight adjustment to the end of term House Points. Neville and Ron were thrilled when all the points lost due to the Dragon Incident were restored and more added besides. Gryffindor ended up winning the House Cup instead of the Slytherins. 

Ron nearly burst at the seams with gleeful pride when even Percy praised him for a well played chess match. For his part, Harry was just happy to see the smug, arrogant look wiped off Draco Malfoy’s face. 

Snape shook Professor McGonagall’s hand, with a sickly, forced smile. He caught Harry’s eye, and Harry was startled to see an almost sardonic expression on Snape’s face. In and of itself, that didn’t necessarily bode well for next year, but Harry decided that it was an improvement over the horrid, evil glares Snape had given him at the start of the school year.

Harry was most pleased by his exam results. Hermione had come in with top marks among the First Years of course, but Harry was very happy to see that his were better than he had expected given the stress that he had been under. He had come in at 6th place among First Years just under the three Ravenclaws and the one Slytherin who had the four places just under Hermione. Harry was surprised that he had scored so highly, because he hadn’t expected Snape to give him such excellent marks.

The next morning, Harry was already packed and ready to go before Ron had even woken up, feeling in a much more subdued mood. He didn’t want to leave Hogwarts, and he was already thinking how much he was going to miss Hermione. He found her in the common room alone as she had also woken very early. Hermione flung her arms around Harry in a nearly bone-crushing embrace. 

“You _**can’t**_ go back to those _**awful**_ people Harry - you have to tell someone. Tell Dumbledore,” Hermione cried.

“I _**have**_ to go back Hermione. You heard Dumbledore - my mother’s protection charm is the only thing protecting me from Voldemort, and it only works if I live with my nearest blood relative...” said Harry quietly.

“But it doesn’t protect you from _**them**_...” Hermione’s voice quavered and tears trickled down her cheeks. “Maybe if I tell my parents...”

“NO!” Harry’s alarm skyrocketed; he almost wished he hadn’t told Hermione about Uncle Vernon hitting him. He was glad he had really... she understood him better than anyone, but he didn’t think he could bear it if other people knew. 

“Please don’t Hermione... it’ll just make trouble. I’ll be alright! _**Really**_ I will! They more or less left me alone after I got my letter last year.” Harry suddenly grinned as he remembered Dudley’s pig tail, thinking that might have had something to do with it. “Besides, the Dursleys don’t know that I’m not allowed to do magic outside of school...”

Hermione dabbed at her tears with a hanky and tried to return Harry’s smile.

“If that’s what you really want... alright Harry. But I’m going to miss you. I don’t think I can bear not seeing you for two months...”

“Ron’s invited me to stay for a bit, later this summer. Maybe his parents won’t mind if you come to visit too.”

“That sounds nice, I’d like that - as long as Ron behaves. I wish I could invite you to stay with me,” Hermione moaned.

Many hours later Harry and Hermione stepped through the barrier between platform nine and three quarters and into the muggle world. The Weasleys began emerging in pairs behind them. 

Hermione waved to her parents who were waiting patiently. Mr Granger’s eyes narrowed when he spotted his daughter holding Harry’s hand, and his wife swatted him. 

“There you are boy,” snarled Uncle Vernon, as purple faced as the day that Harry had last seen him. “Hurry up, we haven’t got all day.”

Mrs Weasley stared at Uncle Vernon in shock, and began reaching into her handbag for her wand, but Mr Weasley put his hand on her arm. Hermione scowled at Harry’s Uncle. She gave Harry one last hug and whispered in his ear.

“If I don’t hear from you Harry, I’ll know something’s wrong and I’ll come and get you - whatever Mum and Dad say.” Then Hermione gave him a lingering kiss on his cheek and ran to meet her parents.

Harry gawked after her as he felt something flutter in his tummy. He caught his uncle’s glaring eye again, but it didn’t seem to bother Harry so much now. Even Dudley singing “Harry’s got a girlfriend” in a snide voice during the car-ride all the way home couldn’t penetrate Harry’s cheerful daze.

**~o0o~**

Albus Dumbledore poured himself a glass of firewhiskey from a bottle he kept in his desk and squeezed a lemon slice into it as he sighed. He really should be getting ready to leave for the summer, but he had things to reconsider - plans to be adjusted - and he felt more comfortable doing that in his office at Hogwarts. Fawkes cooed softly; Dumbledore looked up when the door to his office opened.

“Ah, Minerva, thank you for coming! Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Minerva McGonagall regarded the poofy chintz armchair which the Headmaster had gestured towards with slight disdain. She conjured up a rigid, straight-backed wooden chair for herself instead.

“So, what’s this all about Albus?” Professor McGonagall sternly asked. “I should be packing.”

“Harry Potter!” Dumbledore peered seriously at McGonagall over the top of his half-moon spectacles. “I am afraid that I may have made some grievous errors in judgment...”

“Yes! Well - you are not alone Albus.” A flush of pink crept to Minerva McGonagall’s cheeks. “After what I put those _**poor**_ children through with that ill-conceived detention - I had _**no idea**_ that they were trying to protect Hagrid... and then waving off their concerns in regards to the Philosopher’s Stone...”

Dumbledore’s eyes began to twinkle. “Indeed! Well I dare say you made up for that a bit by allowing Miss Granger to stay in the Hospital Wing with Harry. Poppy seemed quite put-out!”

“You _**knew,**_ didn’t you Albus?” McGonagall’s tone was accusatory and she eyed the Headmaster suspiciously. “You _**knew**_ they were going to go after the Stone and you _**facilitated**_ it.”

Dumbledore’s twinkles vanished and he looked grave once more. 

“I am not proud of that - but it was necessary. I was not certain who I could trust. But I knew that I could trust _**Harry**_ to make the right choices, and he did splendidly indeed. Trust does not come easily to me Minerva - I fear that I have wronged you in that regard... And that is really what I wanted to discuss with you!” 

“I allowed myself a brief glimpse into young Harry’s mind for the first time during our ‘debriefing.’ And what I saw was quite disturbing. You were right about the Dursleys, and I was very wrong to dismiss your concerns all those years ago - things there are far worse than I had anticipated...” 

To say that Professor McGonagall was stunned by the frank admission of the Headmaster was an understatement. But she held her tongue and allowed him to continue. Dumbledore heaved a large sigh and looked old and weary. 

“I should have looked in on him myself over the years and rectified the situation. But I am uncertain how to proceed now that Harry’s residence and his relatives have been made known to the Ministry. They do not look kindly on interfering in the affairs of muggle guardians.”

Professor McGonagall’s features softened. It was quite a breakthrough for the Headmaster to openly admit to error and seek counsel beyond his own. 

“To begin with Albus, why don’t you tell me why you _**really**_ left Mr Potter with the Dursleys. We can take things from there...”


	3. Parents!

Starving and shivering from weakness as he lay on a bed of straw, Harry looked at the faces in the crowd beyond the cage. Many eyes stared at him as the spectators gawked at the underage wizard. Among the crowd were several people he knew. Aunt Petunia was waving the heavy iron skillet with which she had tried to wallop Harry on the head the other day; Harry had dodged it before being put in the zoo. Uncle Vernon was rolling up his sleeves and balling up his fists. 

“Dodge this now Boy,” Uncle Vernon laughed nastily and waved his fist menacingly. 

Dudley chortled and rattled the bars of Harry’s cage. 

“Where’s your _**girlfriend**_ Harry?” taunted Dudley. “Why hasn’t she come to rescue you?”

The strange looking zookeeper with the bat-like ears and long pointy nose goggled at Harry with his enormous bulging eyes.

“Don’t worry sir! Harry Potter is much safer in here!” squeaked the bizarre looking keeper. 

A bright spotlight snapped on, glaring in Harry’s eyes. The rumbling murmur of the crowd grew louder as they got a better look at Harry.

“Stop it, leave me alone! I’m trying to sleep,” Harry shouted at the onlookers.

Harry shot bolt upright in bed when he realised that the blindingly bright light was blazing through the bars on the window of his bedroom on the second floor at Number 4 Privet Dr. And the rumbling sounded suspiciously like a car. He hurriedly put on glasses and ran to the window to see what was going on. 

Someone WAS goggling at him through the window. Someone with bushy tawny-brown hair, a cute overbite, and big anxious eyes.

“Hermione,” gasped Harry, “What... how...?” 

“I _**told**_ you I’d come and get you if I didn’t hear from you,” said Hermione as she leaned out of the car window. “When Ron told me you hadn’t answered any of _**his**_ letters either, I asked my parents if they would let me visit the Weasleys. I got there this afternoon and we worked out a plan...”

“...And Dad told us that you’d been sent a warning for doing underage magic outside of school...” said the freckled redhead whose face suddenly appeared next to Hermione’s. “You _**know**_ you're not supposed to do spells outside school.”

“What about the flying car?” Harry snorted with amusement, “Won’t that get _**you**_ in trouble?”

Another window rolled down and Fred and George grinned at Harry from the front seats.

“Oh, _**this**_...?” chortled George, “This isn’t doing magic. We just borrowed Dad’s car...”

“Mind you, if Mum finds out, we’ll probably be in worse trouble than if the Ministry catches us doing spells...” Fred added. “She’ll probably murder us!”

“Anyway, tie the end of this rope to the bars Harry. We’re breaking you out of here.” George passed Harry the rope, and Harry did as he was told. 

Fred revved the motor of the turquoise Ford Anglia. There was a creaking, grinding sound and the bars pulled free of the window; then Ron reeled the bars into the backseat. Harry couldn’t believe that the Dursleys were still asleep.

“Where’s your trunk Harry?” asked George.

“Locked in the cupboard under the stairs,” Harry groaned. “We’ll never get it out without magic.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” snorted George as he pulled a hairpin out of his pocket. George and Hermione leapt through the window into Harry’s room.

“I’ll get your clothes and things together and pass them to Ron,” said Hermione. “You go with George to get your trunk - and hurry, before your relatives wake up.”

Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He heard Uncle Vernon cough as he and George crept silently down the stairs. George jiggled the hairpin in the lock and the cupboard door swung open. Grunting as quietly as possible, Harry and George hauled his trunk and broom back upstairs to Harry’s room. Ron helped George heave Harry’s trunk into the boot, then clambered back into the car. 

Harry looked around his room wildly to make sure that they had everything as Hermione climbed back into the backseat. Harry heard Uncle Vernon cough again and grabbed Hedwig’s cage, passing it to Hermione. To his utter horror, Uncle Vernon stood silhouetted in the doorway.

 _ **“Bloody Hell!”**_ roared Uncle Vernon as his face turned a violent shade of purple and his moustache bristled, _**“Petunia, come quickly - he’s getting away.”**_

Harry had never seen Uncle Vernon move so fast. His uncle dove across the room like a walrus taking flight and grabbed Harry’s ankle. Hermione and Ron pulled with all their might and Harry’s foot slipped out of his uncle’s clutches. Harry slammed the car door and Fred put the car into gear. The motor revved loudly and the car lurched forward out of Vernon’s reach. 

Breathing heavily from anxiety and exertion, Harry looked back to see his uncle furiously bellowing and shaking his fist with one hand, and holding one of Harry’s shoes with the other. Uncle Vernon angrily hurled the shoe and it bounced off the rear window with a thump as the car soared into the sky. Harry groaned and peered at the toes poking out of the hole in his threadbare sock. 

“I suppose I can get some new shoes in Diagon Alley,” Harry muttered. Hermione was on Harry in an instant, her arms wrapped tightly around him.

“I missed you so much Harry,” she squeaked as Fred and George grinned at each other and winked. 

Ron shuffled a bit awkwardly in the seat next to Harry and Hermione, a bemused expression on his face. As the car trundled above the clouds in the moonlight, Harry began to tell Hermione and the Weasleys everything about Dobby stealing the letters and the Pudding Incident which had triggered the Ministry warning.

“I don’t understand why you got blamed for someone else doing magic,” Hermione fumed. “That’s not fair at all.”

“I dunno what that’s all about,” said Ron, looking very puzzled. 

“Dad probably knows,” said George. “You can ask him about it later Harry - he works at the Ministry...”

“...In the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.” Fred guffawed. “He’d probably have to arrest himself if he ever raided our house.”

The first pink and gold rays of dawn crept across the clouds as the flying Ford Anglia lit upon a graveled path leading up to the oddest house that Harry had ever seen. There was a rickety wooden sign by the driveway with _The Burrow_ written on it. The house was several stories high and looked even more impossible than the buildings in Diagon Alley, with extra rooms jutting out at odd angles and no visible supports.

“It’s not much,” muttered Ron as he climbed out of the car.

“It’s fantastic,” Harry murmured, squeezing Hermione’s hand as they followed behind him. 

The Twins led the way across the front yard past the stirring chickens, whispering to Harry and Hermione to keep quiet.

“We’ll just creep upstairs, and then all come down, and pretend you just arrived in the night...” began Fred.

“Or not...” groaned George when he spotted the stocky, round, red-haired female predator stalking across the front yard with its prey in its deadly sights.

“Oh no!” said Ron.

“Mum!” moaned Fred.

“Do you _**know**_ how worried I’ve been,” began Mrs Weasley in a deceptively quiet tone. Then the dam burst and the Weasley boys cowered as the raging flood waters washed over them.

_**“Beds empty! No note! Car gone - out of my mind with worry - did you care? - never, as long as I’ve lived...”** _

_**“They had bars on his window!”**_ Hermione shouted with hot tears running down her cheeks, halting Mrs Weasley in mid-stream. _**“They were keeping Harry prisoner!”**_

“They were starving him to death Mum!” Ron added in a small voice, taking advantage of his mother’s silence. 

Mrs Weasley’s face went from red to white in an instant as the blood drained out and her fury died. She blinked uncertainly and peered at Harry, noting with displeasure that he was almost skin and bone, and that his sock was more hole than fabric. Bars on Harry’s window raised a hundred red flags in her mind. 

Ron had only told her before that Harry had never got any presents or new clothes, and that his relatives were a bit mean. Mrs Weasley had thought that Harry looked a bit thin the only two times she had briefly seen him before, but she had considered the possibility that Harry’s family just had a tight budget. 

Harry’s uncle had struck Mrs Weasley as a rather nasty sort when they’d briefly met, but after her husband had stopped her from hexing the rude man, she’d had second thoughts. Surely Dumbledore would have never left Harry in a dangerous environment. 

But Hermione’s furious pronouncement had just confirmed Mrs Weasley’s worst suspicions, and it seemed that things were far worse for Harry Potter than she could have possibly imagined. 

Harry swallowed uncomfortably and looked at his feet as Hermione gripped his hand tightly, her eyes still boring into Ron’s mum. Hermione wanted to tell Mrs Weasley more, but she knew Harry wouldn’t like it.

“Come on then,” Mrs Weasley said kindly after a moment. “Off to bed with the lot of you. I’ll make you all some breakfast after you’ve had a bit of a sleep.” She peered at her sons again. “I’m very glad that you rescued Harry, but next time you go on a rescue mission, _**please**_ leave a note.”

Mrs Weasley turned around and walked back to the house as everyone slowly followed. The Twins and Ron gaped at Hermione.

“That was amazing,” whispered George.

“I’ve never seen anyone shut her up like that before,” Fred murmured.

**~o0o~**

Albus Dumbledore peered at the letter he had just taken from Arthur Weasley’s owl and sighed. Not only were things as bad as ever at the Dursley residence, but it appeared that Harry was also unfairly being blamed for an act of underage magic which he hadn’t committed. The situation was growing untenable.

Dumbledore had conferred with Minerva McGonagall at the end of the school-term, and they were both still mulling over options for dealing with the Dursleys. But this new matter with the DMLE was an added stress which Harry didn’t need. For the moment, at least, Harry was safe, and would be until next summer. Which ought to give the Headmaster plenty of time to try and work on a plan for dealing with the Dursleys. 

In the meantime, Dumbledore was certain that he could smooth things over with Madam Bones and Cornelius Fudge regarding the house-elf - they both had a soft spot for Harry Potter.

**~o0o~**

“It’s summer holidays,” Ron said in horror as he watched Harry and Hermione both doing their homework the next morning. “We’re on vacation...”

“Don’t you have any homework too?” Harry asked with a bemused expression, knowing full well that Ron had all of the same classes that he and Hermione did. “I _**would**_ have mine done already, but the Dursleys locked all my school-stuff under the stairs. Hermione’s just doing some extra reading.”

“Er... well... thoughtI’doitonthetrain...” Ron mumbled.

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes. Harry grinned and shook his head.

“Tell you what Ron - I’ve got loads to do still, but I’ll just work until lunch, and then we’ll mess about for the afternoon,” said Harry. “I can always do more after supper before I go to bed. In the meantime, if you’d like, you can borrow my Nimbus 2000.” 

“Oh, that’s cool then,” said Ron, his features brightening, “Thanks Harry!” 

A few minutes after Ron left the room, Hermione put her book down and gave Harry a hug and a little kiss on the cheek. 

“What was that for?” asked Harry, blushing. “Not that I minded” he quickly added.

“For being really sweet,” said Hermione. “And of _**course**_ you need to make time to be with Ron for a bit too. He’s your friend - it was really nice for him and his brothers to risk getting into trouble to help me rescue you.” 

“I _**wanted**_ to ask Mr and Mrs Weasley for permission, but I knew there would be lots of questions about the Dursleys. And I’d promised you that I wouldn’t tell...” 

Harry swallowed; his eyes suddenly stinging.

“I’m sorry!” Harry whispered. “I didn’t mean to put you through that.”

“ _ **Don’t**_ be sorry Harry! I’d do it again in an instant for you... You’re my _**best friend**_...” 

When Hermione paused, Harry could tell that she wanted to say something else, but was feeling uncertain. He waited patiently until she began again.

“When we go to Diagon Alley next week, my parents are going to meet us all in London - they want to meet you...”

It was very unlike Hermione to pause so much during a conversation. He could tell that something was wrong, but he didn’t know what. He only knew that he didn’t like it when Hermione felt bad. Harry wasn’t entirely certain how to make her happy, but he knew that Hermione’s method for cheering him up always made him feel better when he was feeling miserable or anxious.

Harry put his arms around Hermione and hugged her. Then he tentatively gave her a kiss on the cheek, hoping he was doing it right. When Hermione blushed shyly and her face lit up, Harry felt a swooping feeling in his tummy at his success.

“If you don’t want to talk about it - that’s okay Hermione!”

“No, I... I need to tell you...” Hermione responded, steeling herself. “I’m just nervous about it. My parents have _**always**_ been supportive of me - we’ve always been close, and I’m used to telling them everything...” 

“But... but since I’ve been coming to Hogwarts - things are a bit different now... I’m not sure how much to tell Mum and Dad anymore. I’m afraid I might have told them a bit too much about last year...” 

When Hermione trailed off sadly again and didn’t continue, Harry thought she looked like she needed another hug and another kiss on the cheek. 

Molly Weasley dabbed at her own eyes with a hanky and quietly crept away from the doorway before either of the youngsters noticed her. She had gone to see if they wanted some tea while doing their homework after Ron had gone outside with Harry’s broom, and she had caught most of the conversation - including the bit about how Hermione had wanted to ask for permission to rescue Harry. 

It was more than apparent how attached the two were to each other, and how much they already seemed made for each other. It was the sweetest thing Molly had seen in a long time, and she hoped it would eventually blossom into something deeper. Harry deserved a bit of kindness in his life. Molly was really glad that she had told Arthur to send a letter to Dumbledore, warning him about Harry’s dreadful relatives and passing along Harry’s story about the house-elf.

Molly also made a note to herself to keep Arthur on his best behaviour when they met the Grangers next week. It was obvious from what Hermione had said, that her parents were frightened by the magical world, and she didn’t want him to scare Hermione’s parents even more by prattling on about his obsessions with Muggle technology.

**~o0o~**

“A house-elf? In a muggle residence? Are you certain of this?” Madam Bones, the Head of the DMLE, adjusted her monocle and frowned at the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

“Quite certain Amelia,” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “This is Harry Potter we are talking about after all. I trust the boy implicitly. And it is a fact that the Trace is merely a proximity alert to magic being performed in the presence of an underage wizard - it is too imprecise to determine the actual spell-caster. If you wish, I can bring in Mr Potter to provide testimony...”

“That won’t be necessary!” Madam Bones interjected, “But why have you come to me? Surely you could have taken this up with Mafalda Hopkirk’s superior, Dolores Umbridge - the Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office?”

“Because I trust you more than I trust her. To be quite frank, I am not entirely certain that Dolores has the right demeanor for her position, but I can do nothing about that. So I have come to you - Dolores’s superior - to expunge Mr Potter’s record.”

“Very well Albus! I’ll see to it then...” Madam Bones sighed.

**~o0o~**

The week at the Weasleys flew by, and it had been one of the happiest of Harry’s life. He’d managed to get all of his summer homework done, hug Hermione a bit when nobody was looking, and still had loads of time to read some of Ron’s comics, fly around with the Twins and Ron, play silly games, and watch a garden degnoming.

Harry had to agree with Hermione that the degnoming looked a bit brutal. But they both had a good laugh when they spotted the Gnomes - who looked none the worse for wear - sneak back into the garden the minute the Weasleys turned their backs on them. It seemed more like a game than anything.

Ginny Weasley had been extremely shy the very first day that Harry had arrived. The second afternoon, Ginny had seemed extremely miserable after her mother pulled her aside for a private conversation, and then she had given Hermione a lot of glares when she thought Harry and Hermione weren’t looking. 

But Ginny seemed to have finally warmed up by the fourth day and had happily played Exploding Snap with her brothers, Harry, and Hermione. 

“She has a bit of a crush on you Harry,” Hermione had whispered in the evening after Ginny had gone to bed. “I think she was a bit cross with me at first... she seems alright with me now though!” 

Harry hadn’t been very sure what to make of that. 

Percy Weasley had kept to himself, which was fine with everyone except Mrs Weasley. Mr Weasley was affable and funny, and peppered Harry and Hermione with lots of questions about Muggle life and technology whenever Mrs Weasley wasn’t around to stop him. Before Harry knew it, the day for meeting Hermione’s parents and shopping for school supplies in Diagon Alley had arrived.

The trip to Diagon Alley had got off to an inauspicious start. It was the first time that Harry had traveled by Floo, and he decided that he hated it. He’d fallen out of the hearth of a dark little shop on Knockturn Alley which seemed full of interesting antiques, broken his glasses, and ended up all sooty. But the worst bit had been having to hide from Draco Malfoy and his father, who seemed as horrible as Draco himself. They had been selling dark artifacts to the owner of the shop and complaining about Arthur Weasley. Somehow Hermione's name had come up, and Draco had called her a rude word which Harry decided he'd look up later when he got the chance.

Harry had finally managed to get out of the shop without being seen, then Hagrid had found him and delivered him to the Weasleys, who had just met up with the Grangers outside of Gringotts. Harry’s day took a turn for the worse when Mr Granger narrowed his eyes and took in Harry’s disheveled appearance and broken glasses with apparent disapproval. Hermione looked extremely agitated and rushed over to Harry.

“Thank _**goodness**_ \- there you are Harry...” she gave Harry a desperate hug, not minding Harry’s sooty appearance in the least. 

Mr Weasley fixed Harry’s glasses with a tap of his wand. Having found Harry, Hermione wasn’t about to let him out of her sight again, so she left her parents in the lobby of the bank with the rest of the Weasleys and Hagrid while she traveled down into the Gringotts vaults with Harry and Mr and Mrs Weasley. Harry found the roller-coaster ride down to the vaults through the caverns as exhilarating as he had the first time, but Hermione looked a bit green when Harry helped her step out of the cart.

Harry felt really bad when he saw how little money was in the Weasley Vault and he tried to offer Mr and Mrs Weasley some galleons for looking after him when he got some money out of his own vault.

“No, no - I won’t hear of it Harry...” said Mr Weasley kindly. “We’re quite alright, really!”

“You’re our guest dear,” Mrs Weasley warmly added.

Hermione looked at Harry with a bit of a misty expression.

“That was very sweet Harry!” she whispered, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek as Mr and Mrs Weasley clambered back into the cart for the return trip. 

When they returned to the lobby, Mr Weasley insisted on taking the Grangers for a drink in the Leaky Cauldron as Mrs Weasley rolled her eyes. 

“Remember what I said Arthur,” she hissed warningly as everyone departed the bank. Shaking her head, she took Ginny off to the secondhand robe shop. “Meet us in Flourish and Blotts in an hour and a half,” Mrs Weasley called out as everyone separated.

The Twins went one way, and Percy another, leaving Harry and Hermione standing in the middle of Diagon Alley with Ron. It was a rather fun hour and a half all in all. Harry insisted on buying everyone ice-creams at Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour. 

Hermione helped Harry find himself a new pair of shoes and some socks in a shop that sold clothes which looked more like modern muggle fashions. The shop appeared to cater mostly to younger wizards and Ministry employees who had to deal with muggles on a daily basis. Hermione bought Harry a pair of stylish magical Self-Warming Gloves for a late birthday present.

“Thanks Hermione!” Harry beamed when he tried on the cozy gift. “My hands were frozen last winter.”

They finished gathering their school supplies and ended up in Flourish and Blotts a bit early, where they spotted Percy reading a book called _Prefects Who Gained Power_.

“Percy wants to be Minister one day,” Ron whispered, rolling his eyes.

It was a bit difficult making their way around the shop as it was packed for a book signing with Gilderoy Lockhart, who had written the seven books which they would be using in their Defence Against the Dark Arts Class this year. 

“I can’t believe it,” Hermione squealed happily, “we’ll actually be able to meet him!”

Harry grinned, this was the opportunity he’d been looking for. While Hermione was distracted he managed to find a book of famous historical witches and purchase it for her upcoming 13th birthday without her noticing. 

But then Lockhart appeared, the Malfoys and the Weasleys arrived, and everything went to hell.

Oddly enough, out of all of the ensuing mayhem, one exchange kept rolling over in Harry’s mind. Ginny had pushed her way through the crowd to confront Draco Malfoy when he had been taunting Harry, dragging her cauldron full of the books which Harry had just given her. But Hermione had got there first, already furious about the way Lockhart had ambushed Harry. 

“Leave him alone, he didn’t want all that!” Hermione had said, glaring at Malfoy.

Draco's childish playground retort had echoed Dudley's taunts.

“Potter, you’ve got yourself a _**girlfriend**_ !” Malfoy had drawled.

For the first time ever, Harry hadn’t responded to a Malfoy taunt - not even in his own mind. In fact, Harry was having a hard time discerning why exactly that having a girlfriend might be perceived as an insult.

**~o0o~**

Hermione was crying her eyes out by the time everything was all over as her parents quickly departed, no longer interested in spending one more minute in Diagon Alley or meeting Harry properly. Her father gave Harry one more glower as he dragged his forlorn wife out of the Leaky Cauldron. Mrs Granger looked back and silently mouthed “I’m sorry,” at Hermione just before the door to the muggle world slammed shut.

Mrs Weasley was still reading her husband the riot act for getting in a fight with Lucius Malfoy and frightening the Grangers when they got back to the Burrow. Percy, Ginny, the Twins, and Ron, all fled to their rooms to avoid the blowout!

 **“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? OF ALL THE CHILDISH...!”**

“But Molly...”

**“Did you see the looks on their faces? - They were terrified! - That poor girl - Her parents will probably never step foot in the wizard world again! _And you call yourself a Muggle-Supporter?_...”**

“But I was defending them...” 

**“You have a funny way of showing it... punching Mouthy Malfoy when that cretin tried to insult you by comparing you to the ‘company you keep’ - how do you think the Grangers took that? Well...? How would you feel if the situation were reversed?”**

“Oh...!”

**“That’s right... ‘Oh’...!”**

Harry strolled with Hermione through the Weasleys’ orchard and found a quiet place on the other side of the trees far away from everyone. Looking out across the fields, copses, and rolling sun-kissed hills of late summer, they could see the steeple of the village church in the distance. Harry put his arm around Hermione; they sat with their backs to an apple tree and she leaned into his shoulder, sobbing.

“I’m sorry about all that Hermione - if I hadn’t let Lockhart drag me into the spotlight...”

“It’s _**not**_ your fault Harry,” she sniffled. “ _ **You**_ didn’t do anything wrong... You were the _**only**_ one who didn’t do anything wrong. Lockhart was a smarmy arrogant pretentious prat looking for a photo-op with you to sell more books...” 

“I can’t _**believe**_ he’s going to be our DADA teacher this year - and to think that I actually _**liked**_ him!” Hermione huffed angrily. Harry started to feel a bit better. 

“And Mr Malfoy is just as horrid and revolting as his son - saying all those _**awful**_ things - I don’t blame Mr Weasley really for getting upset, but he _**did**_ throw the first punch instead of coming up with a clever retort... and _**my**_ father was just _**looking**_ for an excuse to get out of there and hate you anyway.”

“But _**why**_ Hermione? I don’t understand why your dad hates me - he never even got to meet me really.”

“I don’t really understand either Harry. I wrote _**lots**_ of letters to my parents last year telling them how _**NICE**_ you are to me, how you were the first friend that I’ve ever had - my _**BEST**_ friend. I told them a bit about you - not _**too**_ much though - just that you grew up without friends like me, how you didn’t know you were a wizard because your parents died when you were young...” 

“I told them how smart, and kind, and brave you are... and... and I might have mentioned a bit too much about some of the things that happened at school, like the troll - I told them how you saved me - and I told them about the dragon and how we helped Hagrid...” 

“I started to suspect from the tone of the letters I got back that it might be better _**not**_ to tell them about Voldemort and going after the Philosopher’s Stone. But then Mum - she always could tell when I was holding back or lying about something, because I almost _**never**_ keep secrets from my parents... But she didn’t push me to tell her like she usually does if she thinks I’m not telling her something - it’s almost like she doesn’t want to know...” 

“I think they’re both just scared of the magical world really - Mum tries a _**bit**_ harder to be supportive - so _**that**_ I think I understand... But I have _**no idea**_ why Dad hates you!”


	4. Goldilocks and the House-Elf

“OUT! Out! Shoo!” Madam Pomfrey shouted at the Gryffindor Quidditch team gathered around Harry Potter’s hospital-bed. “This boy’s got thirty-three bones to regrow - he needs his rest. Go on then... Mr Weasley, that means YOU too...”

As the grumbling students - including Ron - began to file out of the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey’s eyes lit upon the one person who hadn’t budged from Harry’s bedside. The girl with bushy hair fixed her steely gaze on the school nurse, and for a moment they engaged in a silent battle of wills. Finally, Madam Pomfrey threw up her hands and rolled her eyes in frustration.

“I suppose it would be more trouble than it’s worth trying to remove you Miss Granger! Hmmph!” snorted Madam Pomfrey. “No doubt you would just appeal to Professor McGonagall to override my authority again.” 

Madam Pomfrey flounced out of the ward with a thoroughly exasperated expression on her face, but she gave her head a little shake and allowed a smile to creep to her lips when she reached her office. Poor Harry Potter was in for a rough night - regrowing bones was a nasty painful business. It was probably for the best that he had Hermione Granger to keep him company.

**~o0o~**

Harry grinned at his best friend as she squeezed his good hand.

“Thanks for staying with me Hermione!” Then Harry noticed that Hermione was biting her lower lip to keep it from quivering. “What’s wrong Hermione?”

“I just can’t _**believe**_ him - that pompous, egotistical, fraud - Lockhart!” she muttered angrily and tearfully. “It’s obvious that his books are a load of rubbish... He probably didn’t do a single thing in them himself!” 

“It was bad enough that he spoiled everything in Diagon Alley when he dragged you into the spotlight for that photo-op - that thoroughly put me off him...” Hermione turned scarlet in embarrassment as she remembered how excited she had originally been at the prospect of meeting Gilderoy Lockhart. 

“...But I eventually resigned myself to the fact that he would be teaching at Hogwarts. I thought that at least we’d have a competent teacher - even if he was a conceited prat - _**but look what he’s done to you!”**_ she squealed shrilly.

“Ssh... it’s alright Hermione. You don’t want Pomfrey to come back and turf you out do you?”

Hermione shook her head and tried to calm down, remembering that she was supposed to be comforting Harry, not the other way around.

“I’m sorry Harry!” Abashed, Hermione fluttered her glistening eyelashes and cast her eyes down. Harry suddenly felt a desperate urge to hug her and give her a kiss on the cheek. He cursed Lockhart inwardly for the umpteenth time.

“Yeah, he did turn out to be pretty pathetic,” Harry sighed, rolling his eyes.

“ _ **Worse**_ than pathetic! He’s a narcissistic, egomaniacal, **_charlatan!_ ”** Hermione snorted. “That ‘test’ he gave us in the very first lesson - 54 questions, all about _him_ \- not a single one about defensive spells or how to counter dark creatures...”

“And the Cornish Pixies,” Harry chortled, “don’t forget the pixies...” When he saw a little smile tug at the corners of Hermione’s lips, Harry felt a bit better. 

Hermione began to feel a bit tired and she wanted a hug. She glanced around; Madam Pomfrey was nowhere in sight. 

“Do you mind?” she asked as she climbed on the bed on top of the crisp linen sheet.

“Of course not,” Harry replied. 

Hermione lay down next to Harry and snuggled against him, her arm across his chest and her head resting on his shoulder, sighing happily. Without thinking, Harry reached up with his good hand and stroked Hermione’s tawny tresses. A warm fuzzy glow spread throughout Harry as he cuddled Hermione, and despite everything that had happened up till now, he felt more cheerful than he had since the day that they’d missed the Hogwarts Express.

Neither one of them could fathom what had happened. And even Dumbledore had been puzzled over the strange blockage of the entrance to platform nine and three quarters. 

Mrs Weasley and Ginny had gone through the barrier with no problem, leaving Harry, Hermione, and Ron on platform 9 at King’s Cross. Harry and Hermione had pushed their trolleys toward the barrier at a bit of a run, Ron right behind them. 

There had been an almighty crash and Harry’s trunk had fallen off his trolley as his ribs slammed into the handle. Hermione almost flew over the handle of her cart but Harry had grabbed her in the nick of time before she hurt herself. Hedwig hadn’t been so lucky and she had squawked angrily from her cage which had tumbled to the ground.

“What’s going on?” Ron had asked as he picked up Hedwig.

“I dunno...” Harry had muttered in bewilderment.

“We can’t get through!” Hermione had anxiously squeaked, looking at the clock. “We’re going to miss the train...”

“Oi... What’s all the commotion over ‘ere?” an angry looking railway station attendant had barked. “What do you lot think you’re doin’?”

“Sorry... we lost control of our carts!” Harry had gasped, clutching his painful ribs with one hand and Hermione’s arm with the other.

“Right! Well watch it then... be more careful,” the attendant had grumbled before marching off.

“It’s gone,” Ron had moaned as he stared at the clock. “The train’ll be gone by now. What’ll we do?” 

Harry and Hermione had glanced at each other uncertainly as Hedwig continued squawking.

“Maybe we should just wait by the car,” Harry had said, “...we can wait for your mum and dad.”

“That sounds sensible Harry,” Hermione had agreed.

“But what if they can’t get back through?” Ron had responded, sounding panicky. Then a gleam had appeared in Ron’s eye. “The car... that’s it!” Ron had started to look very excited. “We can fly the car to Hogwarts!”

“Don’t be silly Ron,” Hermione had said, rolling her eyes. “We can’t take your parents car...”

“Why not? I didn’t hear you complaining when we rescued Harry!” Ron had rudely retorted. 

“ _ **That**_ was an emergency!” Hermione had snapped, glaring at Ron. “This isn’t! We’ll wait by the car, and if your mum and dad haven’t arrived in one hour, we’ll send a note to Hogwarts with Hedwig, and eventually it will all be sorted out.”

“Oh!” Ron had muttered, deflating.

“Come on Ron,” Harry had quietly pleaded. “You know Hermione is right. It’ll all get sorted, and we won’t get into trouble - it’s not our fault the barrier is blocked.”

Ron had agreed, but he had looked a bit sulky while they waited by the turquoise Ford Anglia for his parents.

 _ **“There you are!”**_ Mrs Weasley had screeched, nearly as loudly as Hedwig, when she arrived with her husband twenty minutes later. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you three. Why weren’t you on the train?”

Ron had quailed and Harry had thought it best to let Mrs Weasley run out of steam, but Hermione had jumped right in and explained everything. Mrs Weasley had looked appalled, but Mr Weasley’s eyes had begun to gleam just like Ron’s had.

“Don’t worry dear,” Mr Weasley had told his wife a bit too eagerly. “Why don’t you apparate home, and I’ll just nip them up to Hogwarts in the car.”

Mrs Weasley had eyed her husband suspiciously.

“Arthur, just remember that it’s ** _daylight!_ ”** she had said warningly. 

“Of course dear!” Mr Weasley had quickly agreed. “No need to worry...”

They had driven off as Mrs Weasley kept a gimlet eye on them before apparating home to the Burrow. After driving for a good long while, they had finally left the city behind and reached open countryside, and Mr Weasley had peered eagerly at everyone. Harry and Hermione had shared a look of foreboding in the rear seat, unnoticed by Ron who had been in the front seat next to his father.

“Alright then,” Mr Weasley had said excitedly, “Everyone buckled in? I’ve been dying for a chance to take her up again... we’re going for a flight. No need to worry, I’ve put in an Invisibility Booster...”

“Wicked!” Ron had exclaimed, looking thrilled.

“...just don’t tell your mother, Ron!” Mr Weasley had concluded.

**~o0o~**

When the engine had started to whine, Mr Weasley had begun to show signs of worry. The Invisibility Booster had gone out hours ago, but he had been fairly confident that they wouldn't be seen as long as they stayed above the clouds. The Castle had just come into view as the flying Ford Anglia began to make horrible grinding sounds and smoke began pouring out from the motor.

“No worries... almost there,” Mr Weasley had said loudly with a forced smile. The smile had evaporated when the car began to sputter and shake.

Hermione had gripped Harry’s hand tightly and been unable to contain a moan of anxiety when the car shuddered violently. The motor had finally stalled altogether and the car went into a nosedive. Hermione had clung to Harry and screamed in terror.

 **“WATCH OUT FOR THAT TREE DAD!”** Ron had shouted, his face white with fear.

**~o0o~**

“It’s my fault entirely,” Mr Weasley had moaned as Madam Pomfrey dabbed at a cut on his forehead. Professor Snape had glowered at them all and Professor McGonagall had tut tutted, shaking her head.

“You are most fortunate that none of you were seriously injured,” the Headmaster had sighed, looking a bit disappointed with Arthur Weasley, and pointing at the evening edition of the _Daily Prophet_. “Unfortunately you were spotted when you were passing over Nottingham.”

“You can’t blame the children,” Mr Weasley had continued, shamefaced, “and I have to admit, I was hoping to get here in time to see the Sorting for myself...”

“The Sorting is over. But never mind Arthur,” Professor McGonagall had said kindly, “Your daughter Ginevra is in Gryffindor.” Then she had turned to face Harry, Hermione, and Ron. “Alright, you three had best hurry along to dinner then. None of you are in trouble!”

The three of them had received a hero’s welcome at Gryffindor table from some. Dean, Seamus, and Neville had been congratulatory. Parvati and Lavender had both given Hermione hugs while Ginny looked on quietly. The Twins had been impressed by their father’s impetuousness, if not a bit disappointed. 

“Why couldn’t _we_ have come in the car too then?” Fred had grumbled. But of all the Weasleys at Gryffindor table, only Percy had looked fit to be tied.

“I’ll be lucky if I _**ever**_ get into the Ministry now!” Percy had muttered furiously. 

“ _ **We’re**_ lucky that we weren’t killed,” Harry had said with a frown, looking at Hermione’s still frightened features.

“Are you alright Hermione?” Parvati had asked.

“I will be,” Hermione had replied with a nervous nod. 

Hermione had still been as white as a sheet, and Harry squeezed her hand comfortingly under the table. As the feast had concluded and the students had spilled out of the Great Hall, Harry and Hermione had departed slightly ahead of the crowd, Ron close behind them. The sound of squabbling caught their ears, and they had turned back to see Draco Malfoy having a go at Ron.

“I can’t see your loser of a father raiding anyone’s houses much longer Weasleby,” Draco had gloated. “He’ll probably be sacked by morning, then you won’t even be able to afford that chicken coop you live in...” 

**“Ron NO!”** Harry had bellowed, seeing him ball his fists just as Professor Snape had emerged from the Great Hall. 

But it had been too late. Ron had launched into Malfoy and begun pummeling him. Crabbe and Goyle had piled on top, squashing Ron and Draco both. There had been a crunching sound and Ron had looked aghast as Snape and McGonagall pulled the boys apart. Snape had glanced at Harry and raised an eyebrow questioningly as he wrestled Crabbe and Goyle away from Ron.

“My wand,” Ron had moaned.

“Mr Weasley, I am very disappointed in you!” Professor McGonagall had said severely, though her expression held a hint of sympathy. “See me tomorrow after classes to arrange your detention.” McGonagall had dusted Ron off and set him on his feet, giving Draco Malfoy a withering glare.

The next morning hadn’t been much of an improvement. Ron had eaten his breakfast glumly after spellotaping his wand back together. He had looked so sad that Hermione didn’t have the heart to reproach him for getting into a fight with Draco. 

“Can’t you get a new wand Ron?” Harry had asked.

“And tell Mum I got in a fight with Malfoy?” Ron had snorted. “Are you joking? I’ll just have to make do for now...”

Thinking back to the row between Mrs and Mr Weasley following the disaster at the bookshop in Diagon Alley, Harry couldn’t really disagree. Harry had supposed that Mr Weasley was probably still getting an earful for flying the car to Hogwarts. 

The first full day back at Hogwarts had gone from bad to worse when they had spotted Gilderoy Lockhart hectoring a decidedly cross looking Professor Sprout on the way to Herbology Class.

“Oh no!” Harry had groaned, looking around wildly for an escape route as Hermione began to bristle.

“Well, hello there,” Lockhart had beamed, all gleaming white teeth and shining golden locks. “I’ve just been showing the charming Professor Sprout how to properly doctor the Whomping Willow...”

Professor Sprout had snorted disdainfully and scowled.

“...Harry, Harry, Harry! How delightful to see you again,” the oblivious Lockhart had continued, “I’m sure Professor Sprout won’t mind if I borrow you for a few moments...” 

“Come _ON_ Harry, we don’t want to be LATE TO CLASS our FIRST DAY BACK at SCHOOL!” Hermione had said loudly, grabbing Harry’s hand and marching him towards Greenhouse Number Three. Ron had goggled at her, following close behind.

“Er... perhaps later Professor Lockhart,” Harry had called back, trying to hide a smirk as they left the stunned Professor in their wake. Lockhart was apparently unused to girls completely ignoring him.

“Five points to Gryffindor for punctual attendance,” a much cheered up Professor Sprout had announced when she entered the Greenhouse moments later. 

Neville had waved happily when he’d seen Harry and Hermione enter. He was truly in his element, Herbology being his favourite subject. Lavender, Parvati and a Hufflepuff girl, Hannah Abbott, had partnered up with him to repot the “baby” mandrakes. 

Harry had been feeling a bit cheerier himself until a curly haired Hufflepuff boy had joined him, Hermione, and Ron. He had seemed alright at first, but Harry and Hermione soured on him fairly rapidly.

“Justin Finch-Fletchley,” the boy had introduced himself in a chipper manner which bordered on smug. He had reminded Harry uncomfortably of a cheerful, less horrible version of Draco Malfoy. 

“I know who _**you**_ are - famous Harry Potter, and _**you’re**_ Hermione Granger - Girl Genius....” Justin had looked down his nose a bit when he got to Ron “...and aren’t _**you**_ the one who’s father crashed into the tree with the flying car?” 

“ _ **I**_ was down for Eton you know,” Justin had continued boastfully, “But I must say, I am quite pleased that I came here instead. Mother was slightly disappointed at first, but after she read Lockhart’s books, she was most impressed by the notion of having a wizard in the family. That Lockhart - he seems like a delightful fellow indeed - a most splendid chap... Have you read his books...?”

Justin had droned on about Lockhart’s prowess and amazing abilities. Harry, Hermione, and Ron had been all too eager to put on their earmuffs and get to work repotting their baby mandrakes.

Harry couldn’t wait to get out of Herbology and far away from Justin. He had breathed a sigh of relief in Transfiguration, thankful that George had been able to get his trunk out from the cupboard under the stairs so that he could do his summer homework. Harry had managed to turn his beetle into a button in no time flat, much to McGonagall’s great pleasure. 

Professor McGonagall had been far less pleased with Ron, who had accidentally squashed his beetle. Ron had angrily whacked his broken wand on the desk at the end of class, trying to get it to work better. 

“Ron, maybe you should just face up to your mum and write home for a new one...” Harry had suggested.

“And get a Howler? Neville told me about those... No Thanks!” Ron had muttered. “What’s our next class after lunch?”

Ron had snatched up Hermione’s schedule which was sitting on the table.

“Defence Against the Dark Arts with the smarmy bloke...” Ron had sniggered in amusement when he spotted little daggers doodled next to all of Lockhart’s lessons. Then some other little doodles in the margins around the page had caught Ron’s attention.

“Er... why do you have Harry’s name written all around the edge of the page loads of times with little hearts drawn next to them?” Ron had demanded with a puzzled frown. 

Hermione had seized her schedule, yanking it out of Ron’s hands, blushing furiously, and Harry had averted his eyes, pretending that he hadn’t heard, turning slightly pink himself. 

Things had steadily declined that first day. During lunch, Ron had almost got into a fight with Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle again. Then Colin Creevey had tried to take Harry’s photo and get it autographed. Lockhart had taken the opportunity to corner Harry, insisting that Colin take a picture of the both of them together, and Ron had suggested in a snide tone that Colin should start a Harry Potter fan club with Lockhart, Ginny, and Hermione. 

Harry knew that Ron was just in a bad mood, and Harry had tried to make light of it, but Ron’s mood had started to wear on Hermione and grate on Harry’s nerves. 

That had been bad enough, but then Malfoy had come back around and started taunting Harry about being famous and giving out signed pictures. So Harry had tried to play it cool when Malfoy had started making comments too, hoping that Ron would take the hint.

“Starting a Scarhead Fanclub are you?” Draco had chortled gleefully. “Famous Potter - giving out signed photos? Never thought I’d agree with the peasant... I’m surprised that Weasleby doesn’t want one for himself though! It’d be worth more than his whole family’s house!”

“Well, they’re probably worth a lot more than the dark knick-knacks your daddy is trying to pawn so’s not to be arrested by _‘the peasant’s’_ father anyway,” Harry had retorted. “Maybe if I give _**you**_ one to sell, your daddy won’t be so embarrassed by you losing out to a muggleborn girl on every test!”

Draco had been infuriated and bewildered. How could Potter possibly have known? 

“You... What?” Malfoy had sputtered, “Shut it Potter - you don’t know **_anything!_ ”** he had snarled before stalking off in outrage, much to Harry’s satisfaction.

Ron had swallowed uncomfortably and looked abashed when he realised that he had been playing right into Malfoy’s hands and been rude to his best friend. 

“Sorry Harry!” he had mumbled.

Hermione had breathed a sigh of relief, and had seemed very pleased by the outcome of Harry’s sharp comebacks. But the brief respite was not to last. All hopes for the possibility that the insufferably vain Lockhart might at least be a decent teacher had evaporated completely in that afternoon’s first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson of Second Year. 

The best that could be said, was that by the end of the day, Ron, Harry, and Hermione were all in the same corner again.

“Bloody Lockhart - he’s a puffed up maniac!” Ron had moaned after they’d finished capturing all of the Cornish Pixies. Harry and Hermione had been in complete agreement.

The next few days had been a marked improvement over the first, but Harry had done his best to avoid Colin Creevey and Professor Lockhart. But for poor Ron, each day had brought him closer to his first detention of the school year, and his wand was in no better condition. 

The first DADA lesson of the year hadn’t dampened the spirits of most of the girls who had all still been swooning over the dreamy new DADA professor, but for Parvati at least, Lockhart had lost much of his lustre.

“I don’t know what Lavender still sees in him,” Parvati had grumbled. “I mean yeah, he does have a lovely smile and beautiful hair - but he’s an egotistical, talentless hack!” 

Neville couldn’t agree more. Being manhandled and dangled from the chandelier by the Cornish Pixies had been an altogether humiliating experience.

Harry was used to getting up early, but he looked forward to his lie-ins on the weekend mornings, so he had been thoroughly perturbed when Oliver Wood had shaken him awake at the crack of dawn that Saturday for Quidditch practice. Harry had made a note to himself to speak to Professor McGonagall and remind her that staying on top of his schoolwork was a top priority for him. 

To make matters worse, Colin Creevey had been been at the ready with his camera to waylay Harry again, and he’d followed Harry all the way to the dewy, misted over Quidditch pitch. The rest of the Gryffindor team had looked no happier to be dragged out of bed while the sun itself still seemed to be yawning sleepily and unwilling to awaken.

And on top of everything, Oliver Wood had thought it best to drone on endlessly in the locker-room about his new theories and game strategies for what seemed like hours while Fred and George snored away. The sun had finally decided the new day should begin and was well up before the Gryffindor team finally hit the field. Ron and Hermione had come down looking for Harry when they hadn’t seen him at breakfast.

“Aren’t you finished yet?” Ron had asked incredulously.

“Haven’t even started,” Harry had grumbled - or had that been his stomach? 

“I brought you some toast and marmalade,” Hermione had said sympathetically.

“Oh... thanks Hermione!” Harry had brightened considerably and wolfed it down while the rest of the Quidditch team dragged themselves onto the field.

“Oi... what are you lot doing here?” Harry had heard Oliver call out furiously. He had turned around to see what Wood was on about and spotted green and silver clad figures invading the Quidditch Pitch.

“Beat it,” Oliver had snarled at the Slytherin Quidditch Team captain. “I booked the field for today...”

“Ah, but _**I**_ have a specially signed note from Professor Snape giving us permission to practice on the field on account of the fact we need to train our new Seeker,” Marcus Flint had crowed, showing his crooked teeth with an ugly grin.

The toast and marmalade had churned uncomfortably in Harry’s stomach when a smaller pasty faced blond boy had stepped out from among the troll-like mountainous figures who populated the Slytherin Quidditch Team.

“Malfoy!” Harry had groaned.

“Are you pathetic losers still flying around on inferior brooms?” Draco had chortled. “My father made a generous donation to the Slytherin Quidditch Team.”

Sure enough, every Slytherin had been clutching a Nimbus 2001. Draco Malfoy had smirked broadly, basking in the glow of the Gryffindor team’s fury.

“At least nobody on the Gryffindor Quidditch team was so pathetic that they had to buy their way on,” Hermione had said haughtily, “They all got in on pure talent!”

Draco’s smug features had twisted into rage.

“No one asked you, you filthy little **_Mudblood!_ ”** Malfoy had snarled.

Harry had had quite enough of Malfoy’s despicable rubbish. Nobody insulted his Hermione like that, and there were no teachers around to interfere. Harry had furiously whipped out his wand to hex Malfoy, but Ron had beaten him to it.

Red-faced Ron had pulled out his wand the moment he’d seen Malfoy on the pitch, furious about having to do his upcoming detention for delivering what had been a surely justifiable pummeling upon the smarmy git the first night back at school.

“Eat Slugs Malfoy!” Ron had bellowed. 

Ron’s spellotaped wand had sparked, and smoke had billowed out of it. A jet of brackish green light had emerged from the wrong end of Ron’s wand and hit him in the gut. Ron had doubled over as the Slytherins roared with laughter. 

“Are you alright Ron?” Harry had asked as worry flooded him.

Ron had answered by heaving and vomiting up a pile of slugs. Harry had fumed, seeing Ron’s wand smouldering. Fine, if Ron was too scared of his mum to ask her to buy him a new wand, Harry had decided then and there that he would buy one for him. Maybe Ollivander could send him one by Owl Order.

“Shouldn’t we take Ron to Madam Pomfrey?” Hermione had asked anxiously.

“Hagrid’s hut is closer,” Harry had muttered.

Hagrid hadn’t seemed too concerned though. He’d simply given Ron a bucket to throw up into.

“Better out than in,” Hagrid had said cheerfully as Fang slobbered all over Harry and Hermione. “So wha’s all this abou’ then?” Hagrid had asked.

“Malfoy called Hermione a Mudblood,” Harry had spat angrily. 

Hagrid had looked outraged, as if he was about to storm off and give Malfoy a piece of his own mind, but Hermione said that she didn’t even know what it meant. Hagrid started to respond but Harry answered first.

“It’s a horrid name for a muggleborn - I expect it means ‘dirty blood’ as opposed to 'pureblood',” Harry had replied with a scowl on his face. 

“I overheard Draco Malfoy call you that in Borgin and Burkes, the day I came out of the wrong Floo in Diagon Alley. His father warned him to be careful about how he talked in public... Fat Chance of that!” Harry had snorted. “Draco’s father doesn’t even know when to keep his own mouth shut!”

Ron had gradually stopped throwing up slugs, and later that afternoon he had gone off to do detention polishing golden award plaques and silver trophies in the trophy room under the eagle eyes of Argus Filch. Ron’s punishment had been to clean all the trophies spotless by hand. 

Harry had spent the evening studying with Hermione. He felt sorry for Ron, but he had just been thankful for a bit of peace and quiet with Hermione at long last. That’s when he had first heard it - a hissing venomous voice echoing through the walls of Hogwarts!

_“Rip... tear... must kill... feast on the blood of the unclean...!”_

“What?” Harry had gasped, his heart leaping in his throat and his face white with shock.

“What’s wrong Harry?” Hermione had dropped her book with alarm when she saw Harry’s face.

“That voice - don’t you hear it?”

“No!” Hermione had said worriedly, “I don’t hear anything except the crackling of flames in the fireplace...”

Harry had told her what he heard, and had seen her frown pensively in response.

“You believe me don’t you?” Harry had asked, suddenly unsure of himself, wondering if he was going mad.

“Of _**course**_ I believe you Harry,” Hermione had quickly replied, flinging her arms around him in a tight embrace and kissing him on the cheek. “Everything _**always**_ seems to happen to you... but I don’t know what this is all about.”

Harry had relaxed and gone to bed feeling much better, but he was still awake when Ron finally rolled in moaning about his sore arms.

“Bloody Filch! He must’ve made me clean the same trophies a hundred times!” Ron had fumed as he climbed into his own bed.

Harry had let Ron have a good complain before regaling him with what had happened while he’d been studying with Hermione. Ron had peered at him skeptically.

“I dunno mate... if Hermione couldn’t hear it - well, even in the wizard world, hearing voices isn’t a good thing!”

After that, Harry had tossed and turned all night, his sleep fitful as his dreams were invaded by hissing voices and slithering creatures which he couldn’t see. And to Harry’s chagrin, his scar had started to twinge again as well.

As the month of October passed, and Halloween had approached again, Harry’s feelings of trepidation had grown. An ominous sense of foreboding had dogged Harry, and he had a premonition that something was going to happen on Halloween which he couldn’t explain.

“If your scar is hurting again Harry, that must mean Voldemort has something to do with it,” Hermione had said.

“Yeah... it’s not _**too**_ bad - just twinges really, and my nightmares are a bit hazy. So he’s probably not here in person, but I still don’t like it,” Harry had muttered darkly. 

Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor ghost, had approached Harry and invited him to his Deathday party. Harry had accepted the invitation, but started to regret it, as it fell upon Halloween. Still, he’d made a promise, and he wasn’t going to back out. In the end, Ron had thought it would be pretty cool to go too, and Hermione had been absolutely intrigued to attend.

As Harry had left the Deathday party with Hermione and Ron, he had heard it again, the icy hissing deadly voice.

_“...Rip...Tear...must kill...”_

Hermione and Ron had frozen, watching Harry intently when they saw Harry go as white as a sheet, having heard nothing themselves.

“I hear it again - that voice...” Harry had muttered. 

_“...soo hungry....for so long...”_

“This way...” Harry had shouted, his heart pounding rapidly, “It’s on the move - going this way...”

_“...blood...must feast...the hunger...”_

Harry had sprinted up the stairs, the others close behind him. He had reached the second floor where he had last heard the voice, and he lurched around it searching as Hermione and Ron panted breathlessly.

“Harry... what the bloody hell?” Ron had moaned, wiping the sweat dripping from his brow. “I can’t hear a thing...”

“Look...” Hermione had squeaked, her voice trembling in fright, spotting it first. “...down there, at the end of the corridor.”

And sure enough, on the wall, lit up by the flaming torches, were words which appeared to have been painted in blood:

**THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.  
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE**

And an even more awful sight had caught Harry’s eye, Mrs Norris, Filch’s cat, had been dangling by her tail from one of the torches, stiff as a rail.

“W...we should g...get help...” Harry had stammered, putting his arm protectively around Hermione.

“Are you joking?” Ron had said, “We don’t want to be caught here...”

And of course, given Harry’s luck, that was exactly what had happened. The Halloween Feast had ended and all the students had been returning to their dormitories. Hundreds of people had come down the passageways from all ends and surrounded Harry, Hermione and Ron.

The rumble of the crowd had quieted until only one gleeful voice could be heard.

“Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’ll be next, Mudbloods!” Draco had shouted, grinning as he leered at Hermione.

Harry had clutched Hermione tightly, his jaw taut with anger. If Harry could have, he would have hexed Malfoy to oblivion, but he knew that the professors would be there at any moment. 

Filch had been beside himself and blamed Harry immediately for murdering his cat. Lockhart, the prattling, pompous git hadn’t been any help at all.

“Twas the Transmogrification Torture which killed the cat... most definitely... I’ve seen it numerous times. It’s a shame I wasn’t here - I know the countercurse which could have saved her...” Lockhart had boasted as his golden locks gleamed in the flickering flames of the torches.

“I knew it... He’s killed my cat... Murderer!” Filch had shrieked, pointing his knobby finger at Harry before bursting into tears. Harry had felt sorry for Filch, but also terribly anxious that Dumbledore might believe Filch and expel him.

“There, there Argus,” Dumbledore had said, “Mrs Norris is not dead - she has merely been petrified. We can cure her. And Harry is not to blame...”

“Rubbish... he did it! I know it!” Filch had sputtered. “He found out I’m a... I’m a... He knows I’m a Squib.”

Snape had peered at Harry inscrutably with his dark glittering eyes.

“If I may, Headmaster,” Snape had murmured, “Potter and his friends were most likely just in the wrong place, at the wrong time.”

Ron had gaped in shock, Snape of all people sticking up for them? 

But Harry had noticed that Snape had been much less vindictive towards him this year. Snape hadn’t been entirely pleasant either, and he had still gone after Ron and the other Gryffindors in his classes with relish, but he had left Harry and Hermione alone during lessons, and Harry had been doing exceedingly well in potions. 

Harry wasn’t sure what had changed, but he much preferred this somewhat less antagonistic Snape.

“So _**that’s**_ why Filch is so bitter,” Ron had sniggered after they were given the go-ahead to return to their dorms, “I should have guessed that he’s a Squib.”

Harry had shot Ron a dirty look. 

“That’s not very funny...” Harry had said, but Hermione looked puzzled.

“Sorry Harry! You’re right!” Ron had replied, looking ashamed of himself, knowing that his mum and dad wouldn’t think very much of his attitude. “It’s just - you know- _**Filch!**_ He’s always so horrible to everyone, and my arm still hurts from when he made me polish the trophies all night!”

“What’s a Squib?” Hermione had asked.

“A bit of a rude word for a wizard born without magic - sort of the opposite of a muggleborn,” Harry had explained. “I saw Filch’s order form for a Kwikspell correspondence course on learning magic in his office one day when he tried to give me detention for tracking mud into the castle after Quidditch practice. He nearly had a fit and let me go, begging me not to tell anyone that he's a 'Squib'. ”

Hermione had hugged Harry and given him a kiss on the cheek as Ron had flushed and looked the other way.

“That was very kind of you not to tell anyone, Harry. Poor Mr Filch! It must be dreadful to have to clean up after a bunch of wizards with no magic yourself!”

“Yeah... that’s what I was thinking too,” Harry had muttered. “It doesn’t seem fair really!”

They had found Neville and Parvati waiting for them with leftovers from the Halloween Feast when they returned to the Gryffindor Common Room. 

“We believe you Harry,” Parvati had said as she and Neville watched Harry, Hermione and Ron hungrily devouring the pumpkin pasties and meat pies.

“We know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone,” Neville had added. Ginny had sat at the far end of the Common Room looking very disturbed.

Harry and Hermione had been scouring the library, looking for any information they could find. Ron had been a bit cross, as he was falling behind in his homework, and still had at least eight inches of parchment to fill in on his History of Magic composition. Hermione wouldn’t let him look at the rest of her essay; Harry had relented and let Ron copy from his own.

But no matter how hard Harry and Hermione had looked, they couldn’t find any information about the Chamber of Secrets. Finally, Hermione had had enough, and begged Professor Binns to tell the class what he knew.

“This is History, I deal with facts, not myth and nonsense, Miss Granger,” the ghost professor had said dryly, “However, I suppose I could be persuaded to tell you about the ridiculous legend of the Chamber of Secrets...”

The days following the attack on Filch’s cat had been wearing, as students had glanced at Harry furtively and quickly departed whenever he entered a room. Normally, Harry wouldn’t have minded that Justin Finch-Fletchley had run away from him at lunch-time, the boy was just a bit too full of himself. But the fear Harry had seen in people’s eyes had been getting too much to bear.

“It’s bloody ridiculous!” Harry had fumed. “Why would they think that _**I’m**_ the Heir of Slytherin when one of my best friends is a Muggleborn?”

Hermione had frowned, not having a good answer for that one.

“ _ **Someone**_ clearly wants to terrify all the muggleborn at Hogwarts...” she had muttered.

“Malfoy... it’s got to be him doesn’t it!?” Ron had said. “You heard him going on about Mudbloods...”

“You’ve got a good point Ron,” Harry had agreed, nodding. “His whole family’s been in Slytherin - they could be his descendants. His father is certainly evil enough!”

“We’ve _**got**_ to find out,” Hermione had said, “and I think I know a way... the only trouble is it means I’ll have to pretend that I like Lockhart!” 

Amazingly, Lockhart had fallen for Hermione’s ploy, and given her permission to check out _Most Potente Potions_ from the restricted section of the school library. Hermione, Harry, and Ron had begun researching how to make the Polyjuice Potion when it came time for the first Quidditch Match of the season.

And _THAT_ was how Harry had ended up in the hospital wing with thirty three bones removed from his arm by the incredibly inept Lockhart after a Rogue Bludger had broken it during the match. 

At least Harry had the satisfaction of knowing that he’d beaten Malfoy and caught the Snitch, even after his arm had been shattered.

**~o0o~**

Harry and Hermione both awoke with a start in the dark infirmary, horrified to see a small, shadowy creature with bulging eyes the size of tennis balls, a long pointy nose, and bat ears, hovering over Harry with a damp sponge.

“ _ **Dobby!**_ What the bloody hell are you doing here?” Harry barked as Hermione clutched him, quaking in fright. 

They had both dozed off, Hermione still snuggled against Harry with her arms wrapped around him. Now awake, stabbing pains shot through Harry’s arm from what felt like dozens of large splinters. He hadn’t noticed the pain while sleeping cradled in Hermione’s warm embrace.

“Th...that’s Dobby?” Hermione squeaked.

“Yeah...” Harry sighed. “But I have no idea why he’s here at school!”

“Harry Potter came back to school,” the wretched creature whispered miserably. “Dobby warned Harry Potter not to come back to school sir. It is too dangerous for Harry Potter here - and it is too dangerous for Harry Potter’s girlfriend too...”

Harry and Hermione couldn’t help blushing at Dobby’s assumption, but neither of them bothered trying to deny it. 

“...Dobby had hoped that Harry Potter and his muggleborn girlfriend wouldn’t come back when they missed the train...” the woebegone house-elf continued.

“So that was **_you?_ ”** Harry shook his head in frustration. “Blimey Dobby, you got Ron’s dad into loads of trouble because of that!”

“Dobby knows...” the pathetic creature moaned. “Dobby had to punish himself most severely for that...” 

Hermione looked horrified when Dobby showed them his spindly bandaged fingers.

“...But Harry Potter _**must**_ leave Hogwarts!” Dobby went on, “Dobby hoped that his Bludger would be enough...”

Hermione’s sympathy vanished instantly, and she bolted upright, her face blazing furiously.

“That was _YOUR_ bludger?” she hissed angrily. “I thought Draco Malfoy was behind it. I swear, I could _**murder**_ you for trying to kill Harry...”

“Not _**kill!**_ NO!” sobbed the forlorn house-elf, “Dobby would _**never**_ try to kill Harry Potter! Dobby only wants to save Harry Potter and his girlfriend’s lives. Dobby only meant to _injure_ so that Harry Potter would be sent away and take his Hermione with him...” 

“Dobby, this has something to do with the Chamber of Secrets, doesn’t it!?” Harry gasped, when it suddenly dawned on him. “You _**knew**_ your master was going to open it and you’re trying to protect us...”

“But why can’t you tell us who’s behind it Dobby?” Hermione asked, her anger fading.

“Tis part of a house-elf’s enslavement, miss. I cannot speak my master’s secrets. Dobby has said too much already and must punish himself even more harshly now...” Dobby sobbed pitifully and blew his nose on a corner of the dirty, ragged pillowcase he was wearing, and Hermione bit her lip in sorrow.

“Do... does your master make you wear that horrid thing?” Hermione asked Dobby. The house-elf nodded, shaking his big fat teardrops everywhere.

“ _ **All**_ house-elfs do - we is not being allowed to wear clothes. If master or mistress presents even a sock to a house-elf, then he is free to leave his owners forever...” 

“That is why Harry Potter is being revered by all house-elfs - most house-elfs is being treated much better since Harry Potter killed He-who-must-not-be-named... Most gets to wear clean things like aprons and tea-towels instead of rags now! And their masters no longer beat them!” 

“...but not Dobby! Dobby is _**still**_ being treated like Vermin and issued death threats on a daily basis!”

Harry’s face had darkened with fury, the shock of the truth about wizards owning slaves finally sinking in. Dobby had told him before at Privet Dr that he couldn’t leave the family he served unless they set him free. But Harry hadn’t been sure what to believe at the time, and he had been very angry with Dobby for stopping all of his letters and getting him into trouble with the Dursleys.

“I’m so sorry Dobby...” Hermione’s own tears were falling fast now. “I didn’t mean it! I was just angry that you had hurt Harry!” 

“Look Dobby,” said Harry. “I _**can’t**_ leave Hogwarts. Voldemort is still alive...” Dobby shuddered with fright at hearing the name, but Harry ignored him and ploughed on, “...and I _**have**_ to learn as much magic as I can if I ever mean to defeat him once and for all. If I don’t, Hermione and my other friends will always be in danger...”

“This Chamber of Secrets business has something to do with him! I just _**know**_ it! I understand why you can’t tell me more now... and I swear, I’ll do everything I can to help you. Just please... if you want to help me, you have to understand that this is where I need to be. Promise me that you won’t try to make me leave Hogwarts anymore!”

“Dobby promises sir! Harry Potter is so noble, so valiant...” the house-elf wept as he nodded his agreement. “He risks his life for his friends and lesser beings like Dobby.”

To Dobby’s great shock, Hermione pounced on him and swept him into a tight hug.

“You’re _**not**_ a lesser being Dobby,” she said adamantly as Dobby’s face turned crimson. 

“Never has anyone embraced Dobby,” he wailed abjectly. “Harry Potter’s girlfriend is as gracious and magnificent as himself...” 

Footsteps and voices approached the hospital wing and Dobby stiffened in alarm. “Dobby must be leaving now. But Dobby shall never forget Harry Potter’s and his Hermione’s great kindness.” 

Dobby disappeared with a cracking sound. Hermione heaved herself onto the chair beside Harry’s bed as he slumped back on his pillow, both feigning sleep.

Moments later, the door to the hospital wing opened and several lanterns flared in their sconces. Dumbledore backed into the infirmary wearing his long woolly dressing gown and nightcap, holding what appeared to be one end of a statue. He glanced at Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, who both appeared to be quite red in the face for two sleeping students.


	5. Furry Problems and Super-Creeps

The glare of the sunlight reflecting off the sheet of white snow which had fallen in the night was almost blinding as it poured through the window into the hospital wing late Sunday morning. Harry clumsily struggled to spoon some porridge into his mouth with his left hand from the breakfast tray that Madam Pomfrey had brought for him and Hermione. 

“Here, let me...” Hermione giggled. 

“Er... alright then. Thanks Hermione!” Harry’s face blazed with embarrassment; he was just glad that neither Draco Malfoy nor Ron could see Hermione feeding him porridge. “I think I can manage the bacon and toast myself though...” he said with a half-smile once he’d finished the oatmeal.

Madam Pomfrey came bustling in when Harry and Hermione had finished eating their late breakfast.

“Alright then... everything looks all in order,” she said after looking over Harry’s reboned, but extremely stiff right arm. “You should have full usage back by tomorrow, but you are welcome to leave now.”

“Thanks Madam Pomfrey... and, er... thank you for letting Hermione stay with me again.”

Harry and Hermione departed from the hospital wing and went to find Ron. When they got to the Gryffindor Common Room it was empty though. Hermione followed Harry up to his dorm, but nobody was there either.

“I suppose everybody is outside in the snow...” Hermione said as she looked through the window at the white world outside while Harry changed behind his curtain. 

“Oh good... it’s here,” Harry called out brightly. “Hedwig must have got back this morning and dropped it on my bed!”

“What’s that?” Hermione asked when Harry emerged from behind his curtain with a package in his hands.

“The potions supplies I ordered from the Diagon Alley Apothecary after we got the book from Lockhart...”

“Oh,” said Hermione awkwardly, her face turning crimson as she recalled how she’d suggested that it might be necessary to steal some of the ingredients for the polyjuice potion from Snape’s storeroom. 

“It’s alright Hermione...” Harry said with nearly a whisper as he put down the package and gave her a hug. He knew exactly what was bothering her. “...It was very brave of you to consider - and if I didn’t have any money we might have had to do that.”

“I’m glad you had the money, and that you thought of ordering it instead, Harry,” Hermione replied in a small voice, still looking ashamed. “Snape’s been _almost_ nice to you and me this year - at least he hasn't been horrid - it would have been a shame to spoil that!”

“Yeah, it’s weird though Hermione - I still get the feeling that he’s not very keen on me sometimes. And then other times, I swear - I’ve caught him looking at me almost sadly. I wish I knew what that was all about, but I’m just happy I’ve managed to do alright in potions without Snape harassing me all the time...”

“ _ **Better**_ than alright Harry!” Hermione interjected breathlessly as her eyes shone, her embarrassment forgotten. “You’ve been doing just as well as me... we’ve _**both**_ been beating out Malfoy’s scores in potions!” she concluded with a giggle. 

Harry looked shocked. He had done much better than he had expected he would last year, and he had been performing admirably this year, but he hadn’t really given much thought to how his marks compared to Hermione’s or Malfoy’s. Harry had just been thrilled to not be at the bottom of the class - which was where Ron, Seamus, and Neville usually found themselves, along with Crabbe and Goyle, who only managed to barely pass just because Snape tended to favour Slytherins.

**~o0o~**

Harry and Hermione had discovered most of the Gryffindors outside playing in the first snow of the season. Harry’s hands were toasty, and he was more thankful than ever of the Self-Warming Gloves that Hermione had got him as a late birthday present when they’d been to Diagon Alley towards the end of summer.

“So the Chamber of Secrets was opened before?” Ron gaped in surprise as Harry and Hermione told him and Parvati what had happened in the hospital wing during the night. 

“That’s what Dumbledore said when he and Professor McGonagall brought in Colin Creevey,” Hermione replied quietly. 

“Is Colin going to be alright?” Parvati asked, her limpid eyes wide with concern.

“Yeah - he’s just petrified... like Filch’s cat,” Harry replied.

“What about the monster? Did Dobby or Dumbledore say anything about what it might be?” Ron asked excitedly.

“Nobody seems to know,” Hermione frowned thoughtfully, trying to remember every little detail of what had happened the two times that she’d been with Harry when he’d heard the voice, and think about things she’d read at the same time, “Maybe it can turn invisible, or disguise itself - I’ve read about Chameleon Ghouls...”

“You read too much, Hermione,” Ron muttered. Harry palmed his face as Hermione and Parvati rolled their eyes.

Professor McGonagall found Harry, Hermione, and Ron when they reentered the castle. They had just been heading towards Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom and halted in their tracks, trying not to look guilty. But McGonagall seemed too distracted to notice.

“Ah... there you are Mr Weasley. You have a visitor - Mr Ollivander just arrived by Floo with an assortment of wands for you to try.”

“Oh no!” Ron’s jaw dropped in horror, “D...did my m...mum s...send him?”

“That’s the odd thing Mr Weasley - Mr Ollivander was not forthcoming in that regard, so I rather think not...” Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, frowning in puzzlement. She caught the eyes of Harry, who seemed to be acting suspiciously innocent. Turning back to Ron, only the barest hint of amusement crossed her features.

“Well, Mr Weasley, it would seem that you have a very kind anonymous donor. I daresay you will have some explaining to do when you return home for the summer - but for moment, it appears that you are facing a temporary reprieve.”

Ron let out a huge sigh of relief as he followed Professor McGonagall to her office to meet Mr Ollivander. After she departed, Harry and Hermione continued on to Myrtle’s bathroom. As soon as the door shut, Harry found himself wrapped in a hug almost as bone-crushing as Hagrid’s, and his face being peppered with little kisses.

“Harry Potter - you are the kindest, sweetest boy I’ve ever met,” Hermione squealed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were getting Ron a new wand?”

“Er... to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it,” Harry said, managing to look both sheepish and bemused. “I mean, it was really Ron’s own fault that his wand got broken - and even though Malfoy deserves a good thumping, it really wasn’t the right time or place...”

“Well - like Professor McGonagall said, Ron will still have to face the music eventually when his mum sees he’s got a new wand!” Hermione giggled, but not unkindly.

“Really Harry,” Hermione continued, “I think that was a _**lovely**_ thing you did. Poor Ron didn’t deserve to suffer with a broken wand all year. And I’m sure Mr Weasley earns a perfectly good wage working for the Ministry, but with seven children - and five of them still at home - their budget must be very tight...”

When Ron finally made it to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, Harry and Hermione were off to a good start on the polyjuice potion. And Ron was the happiest that they had seen him all term.

“It’s amazing... it works better than Charlie’s old wand,” Ron beamed. “Fourteen inches - it’s willow with a unicorn hair core...”

**~o0o~**

“What’s this?” Ron asked, picking up the crumpled paper from the floor of the infirmary near Hermione’s hospital bed.

Hermione merely scowled in response, though it was hard to tell as black fur still covered her face. Harry smirked, absentmindedly scratching behind Hermione’s furry ear.

Ron uncrumpled the ball of stiff paper and sniggered when he saw that it was a get-well card from Lockhart. Scabbers peeked out of Ron’s pocket sniffing; he squealed when he saw Hermione’s cat-like features. Hermione hissed, and bolted upright in bed, her fur standing all on end, tail wagging furiously.

“Oi... leave Scabbers alone!” Ron shouted angrily as he tried to hold onto his squirming pet rat, who was struggling wildly to escape.

Hermione clasped her furry hands to her mouth, shocked at her own reaction.

“I’m so sorry Ron!” she squeaked, tears filling her slitted amber eyes.

“Blimey - if you can’t even control yourself...” Ron complained. 

He was interrupted by Madam Pomfrey who came in flapping her arms at him, having heard the commotion.

“Shoo, shoo, begone Mr Weasley. I won’t have this - disturbing my patients...”

“Alright - I’m leaving, I’m leaving...” Ron said in a wounded tone, “Bloody Hell - it’s Scabbers who’s being disturbed!” he fumed as he stalked out of the hospital wing.

“It’s alright Mr Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said kindly to Harry, who was stroking Hermione’s fur to calm her down, “ _ **You**_ may continue to stay! Goodness knows, it would hardly be fair to deprive Miss Granger of your comfort after all she’s been through with you in this hospital wing.”

Hermione and Harry peered at Madam Pomfrey as she headed back to her office, both pondering the school nurse’s meaningful tone. Hermione looked at Harry, who had turned red in the face, her own blush hidden by her fur. Harry suddenly realised in horror that he had been petting Hermione’s furry neck just under her chin when he noticed her throaty rumbles.

“I’m sorry Hermione,” he gasped, his heart thumping rapidly as he jerked his hand away. “I didn’t mean anything by it...”

“It’s alright Harry - you don’t have to stop,” Hermione said pleadingly. “It feels nice. You’re making me feel much better!”

“Er... if you’re sure then!” Harry gulped as he awkwardly reached his hand out to begin stroking Hermione’s fur once more.

Hermione nodded happily, purring blissfully again. Harry relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief. A few moments later Hermione flicked her furry ears pensively.

“There’s something very odd about Ron’s pet rat - Scabbers... something’s not quite right!” she murmured. Then she shook her head when she couldn't figure it out, and put it out of her mind. “Thank _**goodness**_ this won’t last forever!”

“Shame really,” said Harry wistfully, “I suppose it’s for the best so that people won’t tease and bully you the rest of your life. I’d like to see your face properly again... but I... I wouldn’t mind if you _**always**_ had a furry tail and ears... they’re really cute!”

Harry wondered if he’d said something wrong, because Hermione’s eyes had filled with tears again. But Hermione’s purrs had grown louder, and her amber gaze had been almost longing. She playfully rubbed Harry’s shoulder with her head and uttered a pleased little meow. 

Hermione curled up contentedly as Harry continued to cuddle her, contemplating how she’d ended up this way. She considered what it might be like to stay this way forever. Even though Hermione was thankful that her furry problem was temporary, she thought she almost wouldn’t mind keeping her furry tail and ears at least, as long as Harry still liked her.

Harry let his mind drift across recent events as well, feeling a deep sense of peace amidst what was surely turning into yet another tempestuous year at Hogwarts. Christmas holidays would soon be over in a matter of days, and things had only got worse after Colin Creevey had been petrified.

People were now even more terrified of Harry - never mind that he couldn’t have possibly attacked Colin as Harry had been in the hospital wing all night. But then there had been that stupid dueling club that Professor Lockhart had started several weeks ago. Harry had been very excited at first; finally, they were going to be taught properly how to use spells in a fight - or so he’d thought.

Hermione had been thrilled at first too.

“I expect Professor Flitwick will be teaching it,” she had said eagerly, her eyes shining brightly as she moved through the bustling crowd of students with Harry and Ron. “I heard he was a dueling champion when he was young...”

“That would be brilliant!” Harry had agreed; Professor Flitwick was one of his favourite professors. “As long as long as it isn’t...” 

Harry had faltered and groaned loudly when he had spotted the golden haired peacock strutting onto the carpeted stage, plum coloured robes swirling around him majestically. Hermione’s eager features had instantly turned into an expression of revulsion. 

Professor Snape had strode onto the stage beside the gold and purple popinjay, his usually billowing black robes appearing oddly stiff next to the other professor, and his face had borne a mask of weariness.

“Gather round, gather round,” Professor Lockhart had called out, raising an arm for silence. “Can you all see me? Can everyone hear me? Splendid!”

“As you can see, Professor Snape has generously agreed to assist me, having a modicum of experience in dueling himself. Don’t worry though, I promise not to injure him - you’ll still have your Potions Master when I’m through with him...”

“I hope they finish each other off,” Ron had muttered darkly. 

Harry had snorted mirthfully in response. He couldn’t really blame Ron - Snape was still horrible to most of the Gryffindors, despite his apparent approval of Harry’s and Hermione’s performance in his lessons. But Harry also couldn’t help thinking that perhaps Ron should put a bit more effort in rather than complaining all the time.

The demonstration which Professor Lockhart had been so eager to give, had gone about as well for him as Harry had expected it would. Harry had had to do his utmost to restrain himself from laughing along with the Slytherins when Snape had blasted Lockhart off the stage with an Expelliarmus Spell. 

“Never mind, never mind...” Lockhart had mustered a cocky grin as he scrambled back to his feet and danced back onto the platform. “Of course I _**meant**_ to do that - had I wished, I could have stopped my esteemed colleague... but I felt it necessary to demonstrate what can occur when one lets one’s guard down...”

Snape had rolled his eyes as some of the Slytherins sniggered. Things had taken an ominous turn though, when it had come time for the students to have a go. Lockhart had partnered up Harry and Draco, oblivious to the looks of animosity between the two young wizards.

“Scared Scarhead?” Malfoy had sneered.

“You wish!” Harry had muttered through gritted teeth as he contemplated the best spell to wipe that smug look off Malfoy’s face with.

Malfoy had fired his spell early, before Lockhart could even count to two, but Harry had been watching Malfoy’s hands, and he dodged the spell easily, returning fire with one of his own.

“Rictusempra,” Harry murmured. 

A bolt of silver had shot from Harry’s wand, striking Malfoy in his abdomen, and Draco had doubled over, gasping for breath, trying desperately not to giggle. Malfoy had been furious after Snape had ended the tickling charm’s effects - he hadn’t expected Potter to dodge. 

“Dodge this Potter!” Malfoy spat poisonously. _**“Serpensortia!”**_

An angry black adder had burst out of the end of Draco’s wand, landing by the edge of the stage near Justin Finch-Fletchley. The snake had hissed and spat venom, lunging towards the nearest target, which just happened to be one of Harry’s least favourite Hufflepuffs. 

“STOP!” Harry had yelled in alarm, waving his arms, trying to get the the adder’s attention. "LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

To Harry’s surprise, the snake had halted and turned back towards him, then bowed its head and lay on the velveted platform meekly. Moments later, the black adder had vanished in a puff of smoke after Snape had aimed his wand at it. 

“What are you playing at Potter?” Justin had shouted in fright and fury. Harry’s jaw had dropped in stunned outrage.

“I just saved you, you stupid prat!” Harry had retorted. Justin had glared and snorted in disbelief, then stormed away.

Ron had dragged Harry out of the hall while he was still fuming, Hermione running beside them both breathlessly.

“Blimey Harry! What’d you set that snake on Justin for?” Ron had muttered fearfully when he had pulled Harry through the portal into the Gryffindor Common Room.

“Don’t be stupid Ron!” Hermione had furiously snapped before Harry could retort. “ _ **Malfoy’s**_ the one that shot it at Justin because he was too angry to aim straight. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see that the snake stopped when Harry talked to it...”

“But Harry’s a Parselmouth... You heard him Hermione!” Ron had said in an injured tone. “Why didn’t you tell us Harry?”

“So I can talk to snakes - what’s the big deal Ron?” Harry had responded, bewildered by Ron’s reaction. “I’m sure loads of wizards can...”

“No, they can’t...” Ron had said more quietly, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head. “It’s a very rare talent - Salazar Slytherin was the most famous for it... why do you think Slytherin House’s symbol is a serpent?”

“Oh!” Harry had looked shocked and glanced at Hermione for confirmation. His heart had sunk when she nodded.

“Ron’s right about that bit, Harry,” Hermione had reluctantly agreed. “But still - it should have been obvious to anyone watching that you STOPPED the snake attacking Justin.”

Ron had looked very sheepish and nodded. “Yeah... you’re right Hermione! Sorry Harry! I just panicked. I mean... it’s ridiculous - there’s _**no way**_ you’re the Heir of Slytherin - but now loads more people are going to think it’s true...”

Unfortunately for Harry, Ron had been right. If they had been scared before, now they were terrified - except for the Twins, Parvati, Neville, Ron, and Hermione, the entire school seemed to have turned against him. There didn’t seem much point in trying to convince anyone otherwise.

“We _**have**_ to find out who’s behind this Harry,” Hermione had said shrilly after she and Harry had had a run in with Ernie McMillan and several other dubious Hufflepuffs they were usually friendly with in the library. “We just have to...”

They had both run smack into Hagrid’s immense form in the hallway after storming out of the library, and eyed the dead rooster he was carrying.

“Second one this term,” Hagrid had explained. “Dunno what’s killin’ ‘em, mebbe foxes or a Blood Suckin’ Bugbear...”

Hermione had frowned pensively at the rooster. She had still been thinking about Harry’s newly discovered talent for talking to snakes, and about all of the times that she had been with Harry when he had heard the voice that nobody else could hear in the walls of Hogwarts. Something was niggling in the back of her mind, but she still couldn’t put it all together.

Then it had happened again... not more than ten minutes after they had left Hagrid. As Harry and Hermione had both headed to Transfiguration, they had nearly tripped over the prone figure of Justin Finch-Fletchley, lying stony and cold on the floor of the passage - and not more than a few feet away floated Sir Nicholas, all smoky and dark instead of his usual ethereal white. Both Justin and Sir Nicholas had apparently been petrified by Slytherin's monster.

Harry had stood stock still in the corridor, a panicky feeling overwhelming him as Hermione trembled beside him, clutching onto his arm. As they had looked up and down the hall in horror, they had seen spiders scurrying away from the bodies... and Peeves the Poltergeist, who was cackling gleefully.

“ATTACK! ATTACK!” Peeves had bellowed at the top of his lungs, “RUN FOR YOUR LIVES...”

Doors had flown open - students had poked their heads out in fear. Ernie MacMillan had pointed his finger at Harry.

“I _**told**_ you it was him,” Ernie the Hufflepuff had shouted at Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott. “You two didn’t believe me, but look there he is - Potter - **_Caught in the act!_ ”**

“Don’t be ridiculous Ernie!” Susan had snapped. “He’s standing right next to Hermione Granger - if he’d done it, _**she’d**_ be petrified too!”

“Nonsense - that’s only to throw us all off. Potter did it!” Ernie had pontificated. 

“That will be _quite_ enough out of you MacMillan!” Professor McGonagall had called out acidly. “Get back in the classroom - NOW!”

Harry had stood frozen, not sure what to do.

“I swear, it wasn’t Harry - I’ve been with him the whole time!” Hermione had moaned.

“I am quite certain that is true Miss Granger - however, this is out of my hands! Follow me you two!” McGonagall had said in a voice which brooked no argument.

Dumbledore had believed Harry and Hermione instantly, much to Harry’s great relief - though they had both been a bit alarmed to see a bird in flames when they had entered his office before he did. It had taken them a moment to recover and realise what they had just witnessed.

“Was... was that a Phoenix?” Harry had gasped.

“I think so Harry,” Hermione had replied, looking awed.

Of course, most everyone in the Castle had believed Ernie’s story - except for a very few. Even Ginny had seemed to be avoiding Harry and Hermione. They had breathed deep sighs of relief when most of the castle had cleared out for Christmas. Almost nobody had stayed besides Harry, except for the Weasleys, Hermione, and all too suspiciously, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

“The Polyjuice Potion is ready,” Hermione had said to Harry and Ron on Christmas Day, “We’ll do it tonight.”

**~o0o~**

Harry glanced at Hermione now, curled up and asleep, purring in his arms, her furry ears twitching happily. The memory of Malfoy’s words from three nights ago in the Slytherin common room curdled bitterly in his stomach. 

“The last time the Chamber opened - fifty years ago - a Mudblood **_died._ ”** Draco had sneered with relish while Harry had been pretending to be Goyle and Ron had been pretending to Crabbe. “It’s only a matter of time before one of them’s killed again... this time I hope it’s Potter’s girlfriend - **_Granger!_ ”**

It had taken every ounce of Harry’s willpower not to shove Malfoy into the fireplace and watch him burn. Ron had almost had to drag Harry out of the Slytherin Common Room before they both reverted to their natural forms in front of the creepy, evil little reptile. 

But when they had returned to Moaning Myrtle’s lavatory on the second floor and heard Hermione sobbing - Harry couldn’t even think about Slytherin’s Heir, or the largely useless, mostly redundant information they had gleaned from Malfoy. All Harry could think about was that something had gone terribly wrong with Hermione’s transformation and that she was suffering alone. 

“Go away Harry - I don’t want you to see me like this!” Hermione had wailed, and Harry couldn’t help but remember back to the day that he’d found her sobbing in the first floor lavatory the previous year - minutes before the troll attack.

Harry had gently pushed open the door of the stall and seen tears dripping from the end of Hermione’s adorable whiskers, and his heart had shattered all over again. Ron had almost laughed out loud when he spotted Hermione’s furry features, but he had taken one look at Harry’s face, and held it in. 

Harry had coaxed Hermione out of the stall and glared at Moaning Myrtle who was still giggling. Myrtle had bitten her lip and stopped immediately. 

“Sorry Harry,” she had said, looking like she meant it, before diving into a toilet. 

Harry had wrapped his invisibility cloak around Hermione, and taken her to the hospital wing. Ron had followed behind at a distance, but he had felt a bit too awkward to go in with them both that first night.

“I’ll come and see how you two are doing tomorrow Harry,” Ron had said quietly. 

Harry had nodded and given Ron a sad little smile. That had been three days ago, and here he was, still in the hospital wing with Hermione; Madam Pomfrey hadn’t had the heart to turf Harry out.

As Hermione continued to sleep peacefully in her hospital bed, Harry gently stroked the fur on her cheek and pressed his lips to her tawny tresses. Harry didn’t fully comprehend why she meant so much to him, all he knew was that he was never going to let anything happen to Hermione if he could help it. The thought of losing her to Slytherin's monster or that murderous little creep Malfoy was almost unbearable.

His scar twinged again, reminding him who was ultimately behind it all. Harry didn’t care what it took; one day he was going to put an end to Voldemort - permanently!


	6. The Brightest of Their Age

Harry sighed as he departed the Hospital Wing. It was the end of Christmas Holidays and Hermione’s Furry Little Problem looked like it would be with her for several more weeks. Madam Pomfrey had agreed to allow Harry to sleep in the infirmary until the new term began, and now it had arrived. 

Harry had given Hermione one last lingering hug and stroked her furry ears as tears had dripped from the tips of her quivering whiskers.

“I’ll see you after classes Hermione. I’ll be sure to take lots of notes and bring you your homework.”

“Th...thanks Harry. I’ll miss you,” Hermione had sniffled, dabbing at her wet furry face with a hanky.

Harry looked back one last time at the curtain which had been pulled around Hermione’s hospital bed and made his way to his first lesson of the new term. Over the next few days Harry took copious notes and studied with Hermione after classes. Ron thought that perhaps he should stop by and say hello after making such a fuss the last time he’d visited Hermione in the Hospital Wing, and he was more careful to leave Scabbers in the dormitory when he decided to join Harry one evening. 

“Can we visit Hermione too?” Parvati asked anxiously, glancing at Lavender and Neville. “We can all study together.”

“Well... you know how Madam Pomfrey gets,” said Harry. “But I don’t think Hermione will mind as long as you don’t tease her. You won’t will you?”

“Of course not Harry,” Lavender replied quickly, looking a bit hurt that Harry might think that she would. “But maybe it’s best not to make Madam Pomfrey cross with too many people - she can be a bit scary at times.” 

“Er... yeah!” Neville gulped, glad that Lavender had said it first. “Tell Hermione we said hello though... and that we all miss her.”

In the end Harry brought Hermione her books and homework with only Ron and Parvati in tow. Harry asked Hermione if it was alright for Parvati to say hello, and she nervously agreed. But she needn’t have worried.

“Ooooh.... you’re _adorable!_ ” squealed Parvati gleefully when she saw Hermione’s tail, whiskers, ears, and furry features. “Can I stroke your tail?”

Hermione relaxed and nodded. She began to purr when Parvati gave her a hug and petted her furry black tail. Ron felt a bit awkward, and he really didn’t want to stay and study anyway. His ears turned slightly red as he plonked Hermione’s books down on her bedside table which he had been carrying to help Harry. 

“I think I’d take a break from work if I’d grown whiskers,” Ron said with a bit of a smirk.

“Don’t be silly Ron,” Hermione retorted, rolling her eyes as Parvati giggled and Harry snorted mirthfully. “I _can’t_ let myself fall behind.”

“Er... right! See you lot later then,” said Ron with a sheepish grin as he hurried out of the infirmary. 

It was only much later while Ron was struggling to scribble a few hasty lines for a potions essay that he remembered he’d forgotten to ask Hermione how many rat-tails you were supposed to add to a Hair-Raising Potion. Then Ron peered at Scabbers and decided it was for the best. Hermione was part-cat at the moment, and she might have taken it the wrong way.

Hermione was delighted that Harry and Parvati had spent the last few hours studying with her, and she hugged them both when they left the Hospital Wing. She began to wonder if she was being silly hiding behind a curtain. Parvati seemed alright with Hermione being part-cat temporarily, maybe the others would be too. Then Hermione remembered Draco Malfoy and shivered. 

He was awful enough just about Hermione being a Muggleborn. She knew instinctively that he and the Slytherins would be even more dreadful about her being half-cat.

A ghastly shriek of rage caught Harry’s and Parvati’s ears as they made their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room. They peered around the corner and saw a flood of water in the corridor, and Filch storming off furiously to complain to the Headmaster. It was the hallway where Mrs Norris had been petrified, and Harry recalled that there had been water on the floor that night too, spilling out from Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. 

Harry felt another pang of sympathy for Filch, and he wondered again if there wasn’t something that could be done so that Filch didn’t have to clean without magic. Sobs and wails could be heard echoing from the tiled walls of the lavatory.

“Is that Myrtle crying again I hear?” asked Parvati sadly.

“Sounds like it. Let’s go have a look then shall we?” said Harry. 

Parvati nodded in agreement and they both tiptoed carefully through puddles as they lifted their robes above their ankles. Harry pushed open the door cautiously, and they both entered the bathroom.

“What’s wrong Myrtle?” Harry sympathetically asked.

“Someone chucked something at me,” Myrtle sobbed mournfully. “Just because I can’t feel it doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt when people are mean to me.

“I’m sorry,” said Parvati sincerely. “That’s not very nice. What did they throw at you?”

“Some sort of book,” Myrtle sniffled, her sobs subsiding. “It’s right over there.” 

Myrtle pointed under a sink where the water was pooling, and Harry spotted a soggy book with a black leather binding. He strode across the puddles on the tiled floor and reached down for it.

“Be careful Harry,” squeaked Parvati. “It might be dangerous.” 

“She’s right you know,” said Myrtle. “People don’t usually chuck things down toilets unless they’re trying to get rid of them.”

“Well... I’ve _got_ to look to see what it’s all about,” said Harry reasonably as picked up the saturated book. “If anything happens, just get a professor - they’ll sort me out!”

As Harry peered at it, he realised that it looked more like a diary or a journal than anything, and he felt an ominous burning sensation in his scar. Swallowing nervously, suddenly certain that it had something to do with the Heir of Slytherin and Voldemort, he peeled apart the wet pages and saw that they were all blank except for the name on the inside of the black leather cover.

“T. M. Riddle,” Harry muttered. “I wonder who that is? I don’t think...”

“Tom Riddle?” squealed Myrtle in fright, startling Parvati. 

“What? You know him?” gasped Harry.

“He went to school with me. He was here the year I died... right here in this bathroom.” Myrtle replied. “He was really handsome - but his eyes, they were so cold. He frightened me.” 

“Wait...” said Harry, his heart thumping loudly against the wall of his chest as light dawned on him, “...are _**you**_ the one that died 50 years ago then? The year that the Chamber of Secrets was first opened?” 

Parvati let out a little squeak as Myrtle replied.

“Yes... right here in the lavatory. All I remember is hearing someone talking a very funny hissy language. Then I saw big yellow eyes... right over there by that sink! And then I... I d...d...died! That’s it... that’s all I know!”

Harry was breathing rapidly now; he shared a dark look with Parvati and turned back to Myrtle who was still trembling.

“I’m sorry I had to ask you about that... Thanks Myrtle!” said Harry after a moment. “Thanks for telling me! That was very brave of you!” 

“You’re very sweet Harry!” Myrtle said shyly, blushing before she dove into a toilet.

“So what do we do now Harry?” asked Parvati as they left Myrtle’s bathroom.

“I... I’m going to dry it out and then tell Hermione about it tomorrow,” Harry said after thinking for a minute. “We’ll work out what to do then.”

**~o0o~**

For Harry it had been another night of fitful sleep as his scar throbbed and burned, tossing and turning and dreaming of hissing voices. He had a hard time concentrating in classes all the next day, and Ernie MacMillan’s continued prattling didn’t help. Harry considered waiting until Hermione was out of the Hospital Wing, but this was much too important to wait two more weeks, and he didn’t think he could take much more of people going on about him being the Heir of Slytherin.

Filch’s cat, Colin Creevey, Sir Nicholas, and even that Pompous Prat - Justin Finch-Fletchley... they were all petrified because of whatever resided in the Chamber of Secrets, and for all Harry knew, Hermione could be next. By the time lessons were over, Harry decided that the diary was dry enough and he put it in his pocket.

Ron looked up from the wizard chess game he had coaxed Seamus into playing with him when he heard Parvati and Harry talking in excited whispers. 

“What’s going on?” asked Ron.

“Er...” Harry glanced at Seamus who was struggling to think of his next move. “We’re going to see Hermione - but you might want to join us this time!” Harry said, putting as much meaning into his intonation as he could without rousing Seamus’s attention, hoping that Ron would get it.

Fortunately Ron seemed to catch on. 

“Erm... sorry Seamus, d’you mind if I go and visit Hermione with Harry and Parvati? We can finish this later.”

Seamus actually appeared relieved and he shook his head, “Nah, go on mate... I’ll see ye later then. Maybe we can do somethin’ else when ye get back.”

Fortunately, Madam Pomfrey seemed to be out of her office when Harry, Parvati, and Ron arrived in the Hospital Wing. Hermione and Ron were both astonished to hear that Myrtle had been the one who had died the last time the Chamber had been opened. Ron gasped when Harry mentioned Tom Riddle.

“Blimey Harry, Tom Riddle? I must’ve polished his award a hundred times during detention - something about performing a service to the school.”

“Well, I dunno what sort of service that could be,” Harry muttered darkly. “Myrtle said he was kind of a creep!”

“Yeah... well it’s Moaning Myrtle! What else would you expect from her?” Ron grunted, earning himself a reproachful look from Parvati and Harry.

“If you’d just _**try**_ to think of someone else’s feelings for a change, you’d find out that she’s not so bad!” Parvati snapped. “She’s actually rather sweet if you’re nice to her.”

Ron flushed slightly and looked away. Hermione’s furry ears twitched thoughtfully as she peered at the diary.

“I wonder why there’s nothing written in it?” she mused, biting her lower lip. “You say your scar is hurting again? Maybe it has something to do with Voldemort.” Hermione rolled her eyes when Ron gave a start of fright at hearing his name.

“ _ **Yeah!**_ that’s what _**I**_ was thinking too. There’s something about the diary that’s connected to Voldemort... I can just feel it!” said Harry, his heart starting to beat faster as he grinned. He knew that Hermione would understand. “And, _**obviously**_ Tom Riddle’s diary is connected to the Chamber of Secrets and this Heir of Slytherin business!” Harry continued.

“And according to you, Myrtle said she heard someone speaking a hissy language before she saw the big yellow eyes...” Hermione murmured as things started to click together in her mind. “And only _**you**_ can hear the monster...”

“...And _**I’m**_ a Parselmouth...” Harry went on excitedly as Hermione still seemed to be on the same wavelength, “Hermione... what if the monster is some sort of big snake?”

“I think you’re right Harry,” agreed Hermione, her eyes gleaming as her furry black cat-tail flicked. “It must be slithering behind the walls...” 

“...through the water pipes,” said Harry breathlessly, on a roll, “...and for all anyone else would hear...” 

“...they might think the hissing sound was just water rushing through the pipes. That’s what _**I**_ thought it was, the times I was with you when you heard the voice...” Hermione said as her furry tail whisked back and forth eagerly. 

Ron’s and Parvati’s mouths both gaped slightly as they watched the electrifying exchange between Hermione and Harry. “Blimey, they’re carrying on like Fred and George,” Ron whispered. Parvati nodded in silent agreement.

 **“ _Exactly!_ ”** exclaimed Harry, clasping Hermione’s furry hands. “But how could it petrify people? That’s the only thing I don’t get. Nobody was bitten - It must be a magical sort of snake...”

“I think I know what it is Harry,” said Hermione gleefully as the puzzle pieces finally came together. “I think it’s a Basilisk! _**That’s**_ why whoever is opening the Chamber has been killing Hagrid’s roosters. And the only reason nobody’s died yet is because...”

“... _nobody’s seen it’s eyes directly_. That’s _**it**_ Hermione...” Harry felt like dancing for joy. “It _**must**_ be! Mrs Norris saw the reflection in the water...”

“...Colin saw its eyes through his camera...” Hermione giddily bounced on her bed.

“...Justin saw them through Sir Nicholas...” Harry squeezed Hermione’s hands.

“...and Sir Nicholas can’t die because he’s already dead. Oh Harry... we’ve _**done**_ it!” Hermione squealed, “Now all we need to do is find the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets!”

“And I think I know where that is,” Harry beamed. “It _**must**_ be in Myrtle’s bathrooms near the sinks... some sort of secret entrance...”

“Harry... we’ve _**got**_ to tell Dumbledore...”

“...before anyone else gets hurt. Of course, Hermione!”

“Bring the diary Harry... he’ll know what to do with it.”

Harry pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his book bag and flung it over Hermione as he turned to face Parvati and Ron.

“We’re going to Dumbledore’s office. Can you two please stay here and tell Madam Pomfrey where we’ve gone when she gets back so that she doesn’t worry about Hermione?”

“Er...” Ron began awkwardly.

“Of course Harry!” Parvati quickly agreed.

**~o0o~**

Dumbledore was astonished by the story that he’d just heard, and he couldn’t believe what he was holding in his hand - Tom Riddle’s diary. He peered at it intently over the top of his half-moon spectacles as Fawkes ruffled his scarlet feathers.

“I _**know**_ it’s connected to Voldemort too sir... I can feel it!” Harry stated firmly. “My scar keeps hurting when it’s near.”

The Headmaster nodded slowly. “That’s because Tom Riddle is Voldemort, Harry. It is my considered view that he adopted the name Voldemort because he did not want people to readily discover that he had some muggle parentage. I originally found him in a muggle orphanage...”

Dumbledore was distracted by Hermione’s gasp and quivering furry tail. 

“In any case, if my own senses tell me anything,” the Headmaster continued, “It is that there is a dark enchantment on this diary, not unlike that obtained by yourself when you acquired your scar.”

“D’you mean the diary may contain a piece of Voldemort... Sir?” 

“I believe that may be the case. It would need to be to possess the holder of the diary and cause them to open the Chamber of Secrets...”

“But sir,” squeaked Hermione, with a concerned look at Harry, “...couldn’t Harry also be possessed by the piece in him then?”

“I think _**not**_ Miss Granger! For one thing, the Charm placed on Harry by his mother when she gave her life for him protects him from Voldemort's possession. But in any case, the diary likely also contains Tom Riddle’s memories at the time. It was probably made with the intent of containing a fully formed echo of himself. The piece in Harry was inadvertent... a mistake. 

“It was enough to transfer some of Riddle’s abilities - such as Parseltongue, but not enough to transfer his complete Persona - his Identity and his Memories at the time of separation. If what I suspect is true - it means that the diary is what is known as a horcrux, and that Harry is partially one as well.

“A horcrux is a means of binding someone to life - an earthly container for a piece of soul - which is why Voldemort himself is still alive after a fashion. This is both good and bad news for Harry. The bad is that as long as the horcruxes exist, including the one in Harry - and we do not as yet know how many Voldemort created - Voldemort cannot die. 

“The good news is that the piece in Harry is unstable and not firmly attached - as it is not a completed transfer - and that it may one day yet be possible to remove without killing Harry.

“However, the further bad news is that horcruxes are extremely difficult to destroy! We will need to kill the Basilisk first before dealing with the diary. Then there is the matter of uncovering who is being possessed, and who planted the diary to begin with...”

**~o0o~**

The unearthly musical voice grew louder; there was a beating of wings and a blurry vision of gold and scarlet lit upon Harry’s shoulder. As the tears of the Phoenix dripped into the wound on his arm, Harry smiled at the blurry girl with tawny brown tresses, whose tears were soaking his robes, and whose arms were wrapped tightly around him as she sobbed.

Dumbledore was right; it had been a very dangerous and risky plan. But Harry had been willing to do whatever it took to end the Basilisk and create a weapon which would destroy horcruxes. Harry peered at the Basilisk-venom-imbued Sword of Gryffindor, glinting in the flickering of the torches which lit the Chamber of Secrets.

“Only a true Gryffindor...” Harry murmured as he began to regain his lucidity. “That was you Hermione - _**you**_ pulled it out of the Sorting Hat...”

“And you Harry - _**you’re**_ the one who killed the Basilisk with it!” Hermione sniffled as she wiped her tears on the sleeves of her robes. 

“And you _**both**_ saved the life of young Miss Weasley, and freed Hagrid from a long-standing injustice,” said Dumbledore as he picked up the weeping red-haired girl with freckles in his arms, handing her to a glowering Madam Pomfrey before picking up the diary, still dripping black ink from the hole where Harry had pierced it with a Basilisk fang. 

“But at what cost Albus?” snapped Professor McGonagall who appeared to be as distressed as the school nurse. “Harry was very nearly killed by the Basilisk’s venom. And Miss Granger and Miss Weasley’s lives...”

“...were _**already**_ at grave risk Minerva!” said Professor Flitwick gently. “This was the only way to obtain a controllable means to destroy that blasted horcrux, and any more that Voldemort might have created, and to release Miss Weasley from the hold it had over her...” 

“We were all here to help duel the Basilisk if absolutely necessary, and young Mr Potter lives, thanks to Fawkes. And in any case, I believe you have a vial of phoenix tears on hand - in your pocket - just for such an emergency, do you not, Poppy? ” 

“Of course I do!” said Madam Pomfrey sharply. “But that’s not the point...”

As Harry listened to the Professors bickering, he felt Hermione’s lips press against his cheek, and the warmth of her embrace had as much to do with relieving the chill brought on by the Basilisk venom as had Fawkes’s tears. 

The past few months since the meeting in Dumbledore’s office came into focus as Hermione cuddled him. Harry and Hermione had returned to the Hospital Wing with her under his Invisibility Cloak, with a note for Madam Pomfrey from the Headmaster to explain things. Harry was glad that Dumbledore had revealed the entire set of circumstances surrounding the previous opening of the Chamber of Secrets. Now he and Hermione knew that Hagrid and his pet acromantula had been unfairly blamed for Myrtle's death.

Harry had spent a bit of time looking at the diary in the Common Room that evening after curfew, then he had hidden Tom Riddle’s diary in his trunk and tried to get on with things despite his prickling, burning scar and the continuing tension in Hogwarts. Two weeks later, February had begun and Hermione was finally fur free. Harry had been very pleased for her, and happy to see her face properly again, but he found himself missing her furry tail and ears - not to mention the cute whiskers.

Then Valentine’s Day had arrived in a frenzy of Festivity inspired by the ever-preening Lockhart. He had managed to convince the School Board of Governors to make the day a full holiday, and the entire castle had been garishly decorated in red hearts and pastel pink flowers. The suits of armour had been festooned with hot pink bows and gaudy crimson ribbons, and a team of surly looking dwarves had been hired to run around dressed as Cupids. 

The rest of the professors had fled to their offices shortly after breakfast to escape the travesty. Ron had been as disgusted as Harry by the whole affair, but for quite different reasons.

“Urgh! What a load of girly rubbish!” Ron had moaned when they spotted Lockhart gallivanting around in lurid pink robes. 

“If you ask me, Lockhart seems entirely too pleased to be getting loads of Valentines from young girls,” Harry had muttered darkly when he spied Lockhart disappearing into an empty classroom with a number of giggling First and Second Year girls.

Out of sheer morbid curiosity, Harry had tried the door and found it locked. As panic set in, he had looked wildly around for a moment, then sighed with relief when Hermione appeared behind him with Parvati.

“I’m right here Harry,” Hermione had said brightly, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Happy Valentine’s Day!” 

“What about Lavender? Is she safe?” 

“What do you mean, ‘safe,’ Harry?” Parvati had asked, looking very puzzled.

“Lockhart - he’s in there with a few First and Second Year girls, and he’s locked the door.”

Parvati’s features had changed to one of appalled understanding. Hermione had frowned and tried an Alohomora Charm on the lock, to no effect. 

“I think Lavender’s still in the Great Hall with Fay,” Parvati had replied as she bit her lip in consternation. 

“What’s the big deal?” Ron had an utterly bewildered expression on his face. “Who cares what Lockhart’s doing as long as we don’t have to see him prancing around in that stupid pink outfit?” 

“Where’s Percy?” Harry had asked, deciding that he wasn’t up to explaining things to Ron. 

“I dunno, snogging his girlfriend somewhere... I think,” Ron had replied with a revolted look.

“Maybe we should just go to Dumbledore ourselves,” Hermione had said anxiously.

“I suppose we’d better...” Harry had sighed.

**~o0o~**

The following day, the DADA class had been canceled, much to most students’ perplex, and a week later, classes had resumed with a shabbily dressed teacher who had introduced himself as Professor Lupin. Despite grumbles from many of the girls, everyone had noted a marked improvement in the quality of the lessons. Harry had taken an immediate liking to the new professor.

The snow had melted and Spring had brought with it cheerful weather and a ray of hope. By the time Easter Holidays had arrived, things had seemed to be looking up. There had been no attacks, and Harry had eagerly pored over the roster of electives that they were supposed to be choosing from for Third Year, with Hermione and Ron. 

“Wish I could ditch Potions,” Ron had grumbled, “but we’ve got to keep all our old subjects.”

“Of _**course**_ you have to Ron,” Hermione had said reprovingly. “Your entire future depends on getting a good education.” 

“I’ve got loads of time for that,” Ron had snorted, before mumbling something about eventually becoming a famous Quidditch player. After they had all agreed on taking Care of Magical Creatures and Divination together, Hermione and Harry had left Ron to it with Seamus and Dean.

“You’re never going to have enough time to take ALL the electives Hermione,” Harry had chuckled. 

“Time... hmmm!” she had muttered mysteriously.

“You don’t need Muggle Studies for one thing! We both grew up with muggles,” Harry had incredulously retorted.

“Yes, but it will be very interesting to get a wizards perspective...” Hermione had responded breezily. 

“Well... we already know that really. There’s the Malfoy/Voldemort perspective, and then there’s the Dumbledore/Mr Weasley perspective, and except for those like us, everyone else just doesn’t really seem to care one way or the other at all...” Harry had argued. Then he’d grown worried. “Seriously Hermione, don’t overload yourself. That’s too much for anyone...”

“Maybe you’re right Harry.” Hermione had frowned indecisively, and then she moved on to check the next boxes.

“I think I’m going to give Ancient Runes a go too,” Harry had asserted after some more rumination. “I dunno if I’ll be any good at translating things, but it looks really interesting.”

“Oh that’s _**lovely**_ Harry,” Hermione had brightened considerably and given Harry an excited hug. “I was hoping you’d take some more classes with me. You should try Arithmancy too.”

“Er... I’m horrible at maths. I think I’ll just stick with Divination. I still don’t know where you’ll find the time though... even without Muggle Studies, it looks like you’ve still got too many classes.”

Hermione had reddened, peering around the common room to make sure nobody was listening. Then she had leaned forward and whispered in Harry’s ear. His eyes had nearly popped out of his head.

“You can’t tell _**anyone!**_ ” Hermione had hissed. “Not even Ron.”

**~o0o~**

During the week after Easter, Oliver Wood had been pushing for extra Quidditch practices every night after dinner to prepare for the upcoming Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, and Harry had politely reminded him that he had loads of studying to do. However, Harry had gone to several extra practices, and the evening before Saturday’s match he had returned to his dormitory to find a frantic Neville - the moment had arrived.

This was what Dumbledore had been expecting. Harry had been surprised that it had taken so long though. All of his things had been ransacked, and his trunk turned inside out. The diary had been stolen. Whoever was being possessed by Riddle’s memories was a Gryffindor. Harry had gone straight to Dumbledore and the plan had been set in motion. 

The next morning had been bright and sunny with a cool breeze, and Oliver Wood had been delighted with the “Perfect Quidditch Conditions.” But Harry had ignored him and sat with Hermione, waiting in trepidation for the other shoe to drop. 

Professor McGonagall had glanced anxiously at all of the Weasley boys, and announced that the Quidditch game had been canceled, warning all of the students to return to their dormitories immediately. 

“Not you two,” she had told Harry and Hermione with a stricken expression. “You’re coming with me to the staff-room...”

As Harry had taken one last look around the Great Hall, he had noted Draco Malfoy’s smug features, knowing that Malfoy’s only disappointment was that Hermione was still alive.

**~o0o~**

Harry and Hermione had been horrified to learn that Ginny was the one who was being possessed, and that she had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets by Slytherin's Monster.

Gaining entrance to the Chamber of Secrets with Hermione, the Headmaster, Flitwick, McGonagall, and Pomfrey, had been a relatively simple matter, but the battle with the Basilisk had been arduous, as the professors had stayed out of sight, so as not to tip off Riddle’s Shade that they were onto him.

“Well, well, well... Harry _**Potter!**_ ” the handsome looking boy had sneered before the fight with the Basilisk had begun, after disarming Harry and Hermione with Ginny’s wand. “It’s good to meet you at long last. I’ve heard so much about you... you _**and**_ your Mudblood girlfriend.”

“Right!” Harry had nodded, giving the all too opaque Shade a steely glare. “I’ve heard all about you too - _**Voldemort!**_ ” 

Tom Riddle had looked disconcerted momentarily; then he had snorted derisively.

“Of course you have! No doubt that Old Fool Dumbledore told you my real name. So what? None of that matters now. Once the silly little girl told me how you had defeated me twice, I knew I had to bring you to me. I knew that for me to rise again, I would have to kill you - getting your pet Mudblood too is just a bonus for me at this point.”

“What have you done to Ginny?” Hermione had shouted tearfully as she examined the unconscious younger girl. 

“Oh, me? Nothing really - it’s what she has done to herself. By pouring out her heart and soul into my diary, she has given me her life.” Tom Riddle’s eyes had gleamed. 

“I was her best friend - her confidante. Little Ginny told me everything... how she’d always been infatuated with the famous Harry Potter...” Tom had turned to address Harry again, peering at his scar and eyeing him hungrily. 

“She told me how unfair it was that she had already lost you to another girl before she’d even had a chance to get to know you...” Riddle had rolled his eyes and laughed. 

“It was pathetic really - rather boring to me! Still, I was sympathetic, and told Ginny _**everything**_ she wanted to hear... How deserving of True Love she was, and she came to love **me**... and once she did, I grew stronger, draining her of her life, making it my own... ”

“ _ **You’re**_ pathetic,” Harry had responded furiously, “You’re an evil _**coward**_... preying on an innocent little girl. But you still had trouble holding onto her... she tried to get rid of you...”

“Too little, too late!” Tom Riddle had chortled gleefully. “By then I was too strong in her mind. I reached out into her dreams - called to her, and eventually she sought me out once more. And why would she not seek me out? When _**I**_ have become the Greatest Sorcerer who has ever lived...” 

“No you’re not!” Hermione had said quietly - before Harry had had a chance to retort - angry tears burning her cheeks. “Albus Dumbledore is... and one day _**Harry**_ will be too - they’re _**both**_ better wizards than you have _**ever**_ been, or ever _**will**_ be!” she had vehemently snarled.

“The Mudblood dares...?” Tom had sputtered, “That Old Fool...? And this... this... _**child?**_ They know nothing... they are less than nothing! ”

Harry had been astonished by Hermione’s adamant proclamation, and enraged by Tom Riddle’s repeated aspersions against her.

“This _**child**_ has defeated you twice already!” Harry had spat back, “Dumbledore _**IS**_ the greatest wizard alive today... And **NOBODY** calls Hermione a Mudblood!” 

Harry had wished again that he and Hermione had their wands, but they had been lost somewhere in the Chamber when Tom Riddle had disarmed them both. A soft, ethereal musical cry had caught their ears; a great scarlet and gold bird had soared above and dropped a tatty, rumpled old hat in front of Hermione’s feet - the Sorting Hat.

“Hahahaha...!” Riddle’s laughter had echoed through the Chamber of Secrets. “ _ **This**_ is what Dumbledore sends his champions? A hat and a songbird?” Tom Riddle’s face had twisted into a malevolent grin. “Let me show you what sort of weapons that I, Lord Voldemort, the Heir of Slytherin has at his disposal...”

Riddle’s mouth had continued moving. Hermione had only heard the hissing, but Harry had understood every word. To Harry's and Hermione’s horror, the enormous stone face of Slytherin behind Voldemort had begun moving, and the Basilisk had slithered up from the depths.

 _“Kill them both!”_ Riddle had hissed in Parseltongue, 

Hermione had picked up the Sorting Hat hopefully, and the glittering, jewel emblazoned hilt of a long silver Sword fell into her hands. She had thrown it to Harry, and the battle had begun.

**~o0o~**

“Can you walk Mr Potter?” Professor McGonagall asked gently, returning to addressing Harry as a pupil now that it was evident that he would make a full recovery from his third brush with death.

“Er... yeah! I think so,” Harry nodded and grinned at Hermione as she took him by the arm. “Between Fawkes’s tears and Hermione’s hugs, I think I’m well on the mend...”

Hermione giggled and gave Harry another kiss on the cheek causing Professor’s Flitwick and McGonagall to flush and look away in discomfort.

“Good!” said a new voice in the Chamber of Secrets, “Because no doubt Cornelius Fudge will wish to confer with Potter himself.”

Everyone turned to look at Snape in surprise - even Dumbledore.

“He is waiting in your office for a report on the latest attack by Slytherin’s Monster - with Lucius Malfoy I might add. And they are preparing to arrest Hagrid...” explained Professor Snape. “And Lucius has apparently convinced the Board of School Governors to sack you. Though I admit - Cornelius seems to be quite... reluctant!”

“But how did they find out so quickly?” gasped Professor McGonagall as she glanced at Madam Pomfrey and Ginny. “It’s been barely more than a few hours since Miss Weasley was taken.”

“Draco Malfoy!” Harry said adamantly. “He must have got a message to his father. He’s been a part of this all along - I know it! I bet his father gave Ginny the diary the day he fought with Mr Weasley in Flourish and Blotts...”

“Are you certain of this Potter? You can’t just go around making... accusations.” Professor Snape raised his eyebrows and peered at Harry with glittering dark eyes. 

Harry met the Potion Master’s penetrating gaze head on and swallowed awkwardly. Despite feeling extremely anxious, Harry was angry, and he wasn’t about to back down. Draco Malfoy had known too much about the Chamber of Secrets, and Malfoy wanted Hermione to be killed by Slytherin's Monster. Sensing Harry’s agitation, Hermione gave his hand a comforting squeeze. 

It almost felt to Harry like Snape could see what he was thinking. Slowly Harry nodded as he recalled everything that had happened since he had fallen out of the Floo in Borgin and Burkes, keeping his eyes on Snape’s. After a moment Snape blinked and turned to Dumbledore, breaking contact. 

“I believe Mr Potter’s information is accurate Headmaster...” Snape began. Harry let out a sigh of relief as Hermione gave him another hug and let out her own breath.

“...unfortunately, we have no proof!” Snape concluded. 

Dumbledore nodded. “Very well. Be that as it may, perhaps it would be best if we showed Cornelius the Chamber, the Diary, and the Basilisk. At the very least, we can obtain a clean slate for Hagrid, and impress upon Cornelius again, the dangers that Harry continues to face from Voldemort - however, Lucius can remain in my office to await my arrival.

“Perhaps you should _**also**_ remind Cornelius that Mr Potter is responsible for putting Lockhart in Azkaban where he belongs,” Madam Pomfrey said stiffly, her nostrils flaring. 

“Hear, hear...” squeaked Professor Flitwick. 

“Yes Albus,” McGonagall interjected. “A healthy reminder of Mr Potter’s _**and**_ Miss Granger’s moral rectitude and courage would be fitting as well.”

“Of course I shall!” agreed Dumbledore as his eyes twinkled proudly at the brightest witch and wizard of their Age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who are also following my other fic, _Hermione’s Furry Little Problem_ , will no doubt see many common elements in this series (especially in this and the previous chapter... :P ). That is mostly because, though HFLP is in large part AU and smutty satire, I also used it to explore “canon-fix” ideas in regards to characterisation and plot issues (and I also used it to explore canon points which I believe to be appropriate, in more depth - performing an “exegesis” of the original material if you will).
> 
>  _Moments in Love_ is more or less taking many of the ideas developed through HFLP and putting them into a non-smutty, pure!Harmony, somewhat closer to canon, storyline. So, many similar themes, characterisations, plot points - and even the occasional line of dialogue - may pop up. This won’t be a carbon copy of HFLP, but I am shamelessly plundering some of my own material in order to achieve my goals for _Moments in Love_ , and some chapters (like this one) will reflect that more than others.


	7. Rites of Passage

Harry staggered down the steps of the garish purple triple-decker bus almost as soon as it came to a screeching halt in front of the Leaky Cauldron. Never had he been happier for his feet to touch solid ground. 

The pimply grinning young bus-conductor dragged Harry’s trunk to the steps, leaped down them himself, and grunted as he lifted the heavy trunk off the bus and set it on the wet pavement. The elderly bus driver passed Hedwig’s cage and Harry’s broomstick down the steps and the scruffy boy bus-conductor set them on top of the trunk.

“There you go Neville - it was right nice meetin’ you...”

“Er... thanks Mr Shunpike...” Harry said awkwardly. The bus-conductor began sniggering loudly.

“Guess wot Ern’...” the conductor shouted up the steps at the bus driver, “ Neville ‘ere thinks I’m respectable enough to be a Mister...” He turned back to address Harry, “I’m barely outta ‘Ogwarts meself - and only the professors ever called me Mister... Stan’s good enough for me Neville...”

“ _Neville...?_ ” queried a new voice making Harry and Stan both jump out of their skins. Neither of them had noticed the worried looking portly figure in a pin-striped cloak and lime green bowler hat approaching from the front door of the Leaky Cauldron. “No, no... This is Harry Potter...”

Stan Shunpike gawked at Harry for a moment then yelled gleefully back up the steps of the bus at the wizened old bus-driver.

“I knew it Ern! I toldja ‘e looked like ‘Arry Potter... ‘e’s got the scar an’ everyfing!”

“Yes... yes!” muttered the Minister of Magic as he glanced up and down the street anxiously. “There’s no need to advertise - we really must be getting inside... come along Harry. Never mind about your things - Tom will see to it...” And sure enough, Tom the Barman - owner of the Leaky Cauldron - appeared in the doorway of the Pub with a cart.

“Er... bye Stan!” said Harry glumly as Cornelius Fudge led him into the wizard Pub. 

Harry was certain that he was in loads of trouble now, as he miserably followed the Minister down a corridor to a private parlour. Harry was stunned when Fudge closed the door and beamed at him cheerfully.

“ _Well_ , Harry - thank _**goodness**_ you have arrived safely! And I must say, that was a jolly good spot of quick thinking on your part not to use your real name... Dumbledore is absolutely right about your sharp wits!”

“I’m not in trouble!?” gasped Harry as his jaw dropped.

“Trouble? Good _**Heavens**_ no!” The Minister regarded Harry with the expression of a very concerned, kindly uncle, “Quite the contrary - I’ve been worried silly that something might have happened to you...”

“But I blew up Aunt Marge...” Harry interjected in bewilderment.

“Yes... yes! Quite... but not to worry. The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad are seeing to her,” said Minister Fudge, his half cheerful, half worried demeanor suddenly turning into a scowl. “I’m frankly far more concerned that your real Uncle and Aunt saw fit to ignore the spirit of the warning Amelia Bones sent them about your mistreatment at their hands.”

“Really? You sent them a warning?” Harry’s puzzlement and incredulity continued to grow in leaps and bounds. 

“Oh yes... yes indeed!” the Minister replied firmly. “After Dumbledore explained the situation to me - after the incident with the Basilisk - and confirming it with that poor wretch of a house-elf... well, let me just say that it simply couldn’t stand, despite the Ministry’s general hands-off rule regarding Muggle guardians...” 

“You’re the Boy-Who-Lived after all. It simply won’t do to have you badly mistreated by your muggle relatives - many in the wizard world would be up in arms if they knew! The Ministry cannot allow things to get out of hand... _**especially**_ given the current situation...”

“The current situation?” Harry’s head was spinning as he tried to make sense of everything. He wished Hermione was with him for the hundredth time since he’d left platform nine and three-quarters at the beginning of the summer with the Dursleys.

“Er... yes!” said Minister Fudge, looking uncomfortable. “I... well, it might be better for someone closer to you to explain things if you don’t know. Perhaps Dumbledore... in any case, all I can say for now, is that it is _**very**_ likely that Sirius Black may be seeking you out...”

“You mean the escaped convict?” Harry gasped, “The one who killed 13 people...?”

“Yes, indeed! I assumed you’d already seen the _Daily Prophet_ !”

“On the bus - the conductor showed me. He told me all about it.”

“ _Well_ then, you know how dangerous Black can be!” the Minister exclaimed. “I had thought... well anyway - as I said - it was a wise decision for you not to use your real name. And all things considered, what with your muggle relatives - and with the dangers you continue to face in the wizard world, you are caught in an untenable situation. I agree with Dumbledore completely... You _**must**_ be allowed to defend yourself without risking expulsion from Hogwarts every time you are forced to use magic outside of school! And Madam Bones agrees...”

“That is why - on my Authority as Minister - I have decided to grant you emancipation Harry. As of this moment, you are now legally an adult in the wizard world. You may use magic whenever necessary... in or out of Hogwarts...”

“Are you _**joking?**_ ” squeaked Harry. He felt faint, unsteady on his feet, as the biggest shock of all washed over him. 

“Not at all - not at all my dear boy! Please... sit down! Have a cup of tea, quickly...” Fudge guided Harry gently to a comfortable armchair and passed him a steaming teacup. 

“In any case,” the Minister continued as he pushed a plate of buttery crumpets towards Harry, “you will still need to be very careful regarding the laws against the use of magic in front of muggles who are not acquainted with wizards. Don’t forget that!” 

“ _ **But**_... you will no longer be in violation of the laws regarding the Restriction of Underage Magic outside of school. You may use magic whenever it is appropriate... and when you are at home... at Number Four Privet Drive...”

“I _**never**_ want to go back there again,” Harry muttered darkly as he took a sip of tea. “But I know I have to.” 

“Er... indeed!” Cornelius Fudge nodded sympathetically as he watched Harry take a bite out of a crumpet. “I am already stretching the limits of my Authority as Minister as it is - and Dumbledore assures me that it is unfortunately still necessary for you to reside there for at least part of each summer until you are 17. I’m not certain that I entirely understand everything, but it seems to have something to do with protecting you from You-Know-Who!” 

“It’s alright sir!” said Harry beginning to feel much better with some tea and a bit of crumpet in his stomach. “Dumbledore explained it all to me at the end of First Year. I’ll be careful with the magic, I promise! And if my relatives know that I’m allowed to use magic, things should be a bit easier - they’ll probably back off now... And I don’t have to stay there past my birthdays...”

Harry was suddenly thunderstruck by the realisation that it was still his 13th birthday. He blinked and swallowed as his pulse started to race, wondering where he could stay after his birthdays. He didn’t want to put the Weasleys out every year. He knew they’d be happy to take him in - but their budget was tight because they already had a load of children still living at home, and they would never accept even a knut in compensation from Harry.

“Er... I’m just not sure where to go after that!” Harry muttered.

“Well, you can always take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron if one is available. It is an Inn after all... I’ll see if Tom has one ready for you yet.”

**~o0o~**

Harry had never really noticed that the Leaky Cauldron was an Inn as well as a Pub. He followed Tom the Proprietor up the gleaming mahogany staircase and down a narrow corridor to room Number 11.

“In you go Mr Potter,” Tom said loudly as he turned the brass handle and pushed open the polished to a sheen oak door. “I already brought all your things up for you...”

Harry was about to step into his room when he heard a door open and a squeal on the other side of the passage. He turned around and gasped in shock when he saw a bushy haired girl with a cute overbite staring at him.

 _ **“Harry!” ******_squealed Hermione again as she dashed across the hallway and threw her arms around him, nearly bowling him over. “It _ **IS**_ you! I couldn’t believe it when I heard your name...”

Tom grinned toothlessly at Harry and took his leave, giving him a wink as he departed. 

“Hermione, what are _**you**_ doing here?” Harry wheezed, trying to catch a breath as Hermione clung to him tightly. 

All Harry could see was the top of Hermione’s tawny-brown hair as it spilled over his shoulder. But he could hear muted sniffles and felt his shirt growing damp. He shut his door and guided Hermione to sit on the little burgundy coloured velvet settee by the crackling fire. Harry heard a baleful hoot and looked up to see a snowy owl peering at them both in concern from the top of a glossy oak wardrobe. 

“Hi Hedwig,” he said quietly, before turning back to Hermione. He stroked her bushy hair and waited for the sniffling to subside. Finally Hermione leaned back and loosened her grip on Harry.

“What’s wrong Hermione?” he asked, tenderly brushing some stray strands of hair from Hermione’s glistening lashes and wet cheeks with the back of his fingers.

“M...my p...parents!” she stammered. “Well, m...more my father - but Mum seemed to be supporting him for the most part... s...so... so I ran away!” Hermione paused and Harry waited. But she seemed to be having difficulty speaking so Harry spoke up gently.

“But why Hermione?”

“Daddy...” she began haltingly. “He wanted to p...pull me out of Hogwarts - and Mum was agreeing... th...though, she seemed more reluctant! Mum finally asked me what had been going on at Hogwarts when I got back for the summer. I... I t...tried to make it sound not so b...bad, and I d...didn’t tell them everything. B...but I couldn’t bring myself to lie to them...”

“I didn’t tell them that _**I**_ helped fight the Basilisk, but I... I suppose what I told them was bad enough. Even though I told them that we weren’t in _**too**_ much d...danger, because y...you were so smart, and so brave, and that you killed it - that you saved everyone.”

“All they seemed to hear was that I had turned part cat for a bit, and that there was a m...monster snake on the loose - Daddy s...said I was to never go back to Hogwarts again! I tried to reason with him...” 

“I t...told him about B...Beauxbatons in France, even though I’d rather stay in Hogwarts with you. B...but he t...told me he didn’t want me to have _**anything**_ to do with the wizard world anymore!”

 _ **“He was going to break my wand!”**_ Hermione concluded shrilly, before bursting into tears again.

Harry cuddled Hermione until her crying ebbed once more. His jaw and chest tightened; he felt a flare of rage in the pit of his stomach at the thought of Hermione’s father trying to break her wand - and especially at the thought that he might have never seen her again. 

Hermione was his best friend - much more than that really. But even though everyone kept calling her his girlfriend, they had never really talked about that. Harry just knew that whatever he had with Hermione, he never wanted it to end. She meant more to him than anything.

Harry thought back to the events following the killing of the Basilisk. Everyone had waited in the Chamber of Secrets for Snape to return with Cornelius Fudge. Dumbledore had shown the Minister everything, including Tom Riddle’s Diary - Fudge already seemed to know that Riddle was also Voldemort - and the corpse of the Basilisk. 

Fudge had spoken to Harry and Hermione and Ginny, and he had seemed satisfied that Dumbledore had told him everything that he needed to know. Fudge had been utterly blown away that Harry had been the one to kill the Basilisk, and that Harry had once again been forced by circumstances to face the earthbound Shade of Voldemort attempting to return completely to the world of the living. 

When they had returned to the castle, Madam Pomfrey had taken Ginny Weasley to the hospital wing, and Professor McGonagall had gone to Gryffindor Tower to tell the Weasley boys what had happened to their sister. Harry and Hermione had followed the Minister and Dumbledore back to his office where they had confronted Lucius Malfoy and shown him the diary. 

Mr Malfoy had been furious that he couldn’t send Hagrid to Azkaban or sack Dumbledore now that the situation had been resolved.

“But you haven’t caught the culprit I see,” Mr Malfoy had sneered. 

“Ah, well... as I have already explained,” Dumbledore had begun with a twinkle in his eye, “it was Voldemort, possessing an innocent young girl through the means of this diary... all that remains is to discover who planted it on young Miss Weasley...”

Mr Malfoy’s face had twisted into ugliness as he peered at Hermione in disgust and glowered at Harry, and he had stormed out of Dumbledore’s office as Minister Fudge watched in discomfort. 

“Come Dobby,” Lucius Malfoy had snarled as he kicked the house-elf through the doorway, causing Cornelius Fudge to wince and Hermione to gasp in horror. “We’re leaving now.”

Harry had wondered why Mr Malfoy had brought Dobby along, and assumed that Mr Malfoy just liked having a slave to beat up whenever he got cross. As the bile rose in his stomach, Harry had had an idea. He had yanked off his shoe and pulled off a sock. 

“Sir, can I borrow the diary for a moment?” Harry had asked the Headmaster. 

Dumbledore had nodded, his clear blue eyes sparkling. As he had run up to Mr Malfoy, Harry had folded the pages of Riddle’s diary around the sock. 

“You forgot something sir - I believe this is yours!” Harry had said, thrusting the diary into Mr Malfoy’s hand.

“ _ **Hah!**_ Nice try Potter!” the elder Malfoy had sneered as he tossed the diary at his house-elf, “But no Cigar today!” 

“Dobby is Free!” the delighted house-elf had squeaked, opening the diary and pulling out the sock. 

“WHAT?” Mr Malfoy had barked, staring at his house-elf in shock. Lucius had thought he knew what Potter was up to, but clearly the boy had something else in mind altogether.

“Master has presented Dobby with clothes, Dobby is FREE!” the house-elf had gleefully repeated. Enraged, Lucius Malfoy had whirled around to face Harry again.

“You cost me my house-elf Potter!” Malfoy had spat venomously. 

He had reached for his wand to curse Harry, then suddenly remembered that Cornelius Fudge was watching. Lucius had glanced back at the shocked faces of Fudge and Hermione, and the serene features of Albus Dumbledore and thought better of it.

“Watch your back Potter - you _**and**_ your little Mudblood girlfriend!” Lucius had hissed quietly. “One day you’ll _**both**_ meet the same sticky end as your parents!” And with that, Mr Malfoy had turned on his heel and stalked out of Hogwarts.

Harry had found himself under a dual attack. Hermione had flung herself on Harry, trapping him in a hug as bone-crushing as Hagrid’s, peppering his face with little kisses as Fudge and Dumbledore glanced sideways; Dobby had wrapped himself around one of Harry’s legs, sobbing in delight.

“Harry Potter has freed Dobby!” the happy little house-elf had wept. “Dobby is always believing that Harry Potter is being a great wizard, but Harry Potter is a greater wizard than even Dobby knows.”

Dumbledore had recovered himself somewhat and approached the house-elf, gently taking one of his hands and peeling it away from Harry’s thigh.

“Come with me Dobby, I think it’s about time you met the Minister,” Dumbledore had said quietly. “Harry, perhaps you and Miss Granger can stop by my office after dinner to tie up any loose ends.”

Harry and Hermione had visited Ginny in the hospital wing and both given her hugs, assuring her that they didn’t blame her one tiny little bit for being possessed by Voldemort. Madam Pomfrey had insisted on giving them both another once over before allowing them to leave. Ron, Fred, and George had all slapped Harry on the back and thanked him and Hermione profusely for saving Ginny - while Percy had shaken their hands like a pleased President of a foreign country.

Finally Harry and Hermione had escaped from the hospital wing and found a quiet place under a willow tree near the lake to spend the afternoon far away from everyone. And after dinner they had met the headmaster in his office to cover any last details they wished to address.

It had been a shame. Harry had rather hoped that the Basilisk venom would have done in the bit of Voldemort’s soul that had attached itself to Harry’s when Voldemort had tried to kill him and failed. But apparently he hadn’t received a big enough dose.

“I am afraid Harry, that the amount necessary to dispel the inadvertent piece of Riddle within you, would have also finished you,” Dumbledore had sighed. “When Fawkes’ tears healed you, it would appear that they prevented most of the venom which was flowing through your arm from reaching your brain before it killed you. And for that, I am very grateful.” 

“I am too Harry!” Hermione had squeaked as she threw her arms around him.

Harry had been quite happy about it too for the most part as the comforting warmth of Hermione’s embrace filled him. But that had led directly to some mixed feelings. If it would mean that Voldemort could be killed... then Hermione might be safer. Dumbledore had seemed to sense what Harry was feeling as they peered at each other.

“Sadly, there are always others ready - eagerly waiting in the wings to take Voldemort’s place and do great evil to the ones we love,” Dumbledore said softly. 

Draco Malfoy and his father had immediately sprung into Harry’s mind and he knew that Dumbledore was right. Hermione would be no safer with Harry and Voldemort both gone. Harry had held Hermione a bit closer to him, and decided that he would _**never**_ give in without a fight. 

**~o0o~**

Harry felt Hermione hiccup twice, and the present re-insinuated itself. Hermione seemed able to talk again.

“Thank you Harry!” she sniffed, wiping her wet face with a hanky. “I’m sorry to keep crying all over you like that.”

“There’s nothing to apologise for,” Harry replied softly, gazing at her with his opalescent green eyes. He leaned forward and gave her a little kiss on her cheek, hoping it would cheer her up a bit more. She blushed and smiled shyly. 

“You can cry all over me anytime you like,” Harry grinned when he saw her little smile. “Anyway, how did you actually end up here?” 

Hermione’s eyes flashed, and he could see her burning resolve. She took a deep breath and began again, her nostrils flaring with anger.

“I was really cross, and crying my eyes out when Daddy said he’d snap my wand in half, so I ran and locked myself in my room.” Then Hermione gave a little shiver and a frightened look flickered across her face. 

“He started shouting and banging on my door so _**hard**_...” Hermione almost whispered, and Harry could see her confusion. “I’ve _**never**_ seen him so angry! I thought he was going to break my door down...” she paused and then continued on, a bit louder as the steely look returned to her eyes and the anger returned to her voice.

“Mum managed to finally stop him - told him to let me be - that we’d sort it all out later. I waited until it was really late and I knew they’d gone to sleep... I think it was almost 4 in the morning before I felt sure. I always keep my school-things in my trunk on a little cart anyway... I just threw a few clothes in my trunk and trundled it down the road, then I stuck my wand out for the Knight Bus...”

“You knew about the bus?” Harry gasped. Hermione raised an eyebrow; Harry slapped his forehead and grimaced. Of course Hermione knew about the bus. 

“Let me guess - there’s a book or pamphlet about Magical Public Transportation,” said Harry, turning red, embarrassed that he’d never even considered that wizards might have more than a school express train as a means of public conveyance. 

“Er... anyway, how did you afford it? It cost me 13 sickles,” he murmured. “Did you have a bit of wizard money left over from last year? ”

This time it was Hermione who blushed in embarrassment.

“No! Whatever was left over, my parents had,” she said in a small voice, “I... er... sort of batted my eyelashes a bit at the boy-conductor on the bus and said it was an emergency, and that I’d pay next time. He and the nice old man that drives the bus said not to worry - that ‘it would be an honour to help out a lady in distress’...”

Harry felt so bad for Hermione, knowing how guilty she must feel, that he hated to ask her the next most obvious question and left it unspoken, hugging her instead.

“I’m _sorry_ Harry!” she squeaked as she cringed in his arms, biting her bottom lip so hard that she made it bleed, “When I got here yesterday morning, I told the nice old Innkeeper that my parents would pay whenever they arrived to buy things for school.” 

“I... I knew that you would show up eventually... probably with the Weasleys. I _**swear**_ Harry... I’ll find a way to pay it all back - I promise!” she concluded as tears welled in her eyes again.

“Don’t be silly Hermione!” Harry said gently as he held her even tighter and kissed her bushy tresses. “Of _**course**_ you don’t have to pay me back. I love you!” he said without thinking. “I’ve got enough money in my vault for the both of us! 

“And your parents will come around eventually - I _**know**_ they will! They love you too,” Harry continued, nearly whispering. “You’ll see them again at Christmas or next Summer and you’ll all make up!” 

Hermione was trembling in Harry’s arms now, wondering what Harry meant when he said he loved her. She could almost feel his heart beating next to her own and sighed, melting into his warm embrace.

“Thank you Harry,” she finally whispered back. “I love you too!” 

Hedwig cooed softly and fluttered her wings. Harry glanced at her and smiled. It had been a very weird, terrible-wonderful birthday indeed. As a free wizard, he knew that the Dursleys would be very unlikely to harass him badly ever again. And with Hermione to cuddle, no strange black dogs, or mysterious escaped mass-murderers out to get him could penetrate his happiness.

**~o0o~**

Sunlight poured through the window and Hermione woke with a start, realising in shock that she was still in Harry’s room and that she had fallen asleep in his arms. Hermione suddenly remembered that she had left the door to her own room wide open when she had flung herself on Harry last night.

“Oh _no!_ ” she murmured, flushing crimson in embarrassment, wondering what the Innkeeper must be thinking. 

Harry felt Hermione stirring, and sighed contentedly, wondering what the bright light was. He blinked a few times, then his eyes widened in panic. Hermione had been in his room all night. 

“Tom the Barman!” Harry groaned, looking at the clock on the mantelpiece, knowing instinctively that Inn staff always woke early to prepare for their guests. 

Hermione sat up and they both stared at each other with red faces. It wasn’t the first time that they had cuddled and fallen asleep together. They had done that plenty of times in the hospital wing. And they weren’t even on a bed this time, just a velvet settee in front of the glowing embers in the hearth. But this was the first time that they were certain that they had been caught at it by grown ups.

But they didn’t pull apart either. Hermione bit her lip and smiled shyly as Harry turned even redder and grinned awkwardly, scrunching up his eyes. 

“In for a penny, in for a pound eh?” he laughed nervously. 

“I did rather pounce on you last night when you got here,” said Hermione with an anxious giggle.

“Well, there’s nothing for it,” sighed Harry with a sideways smile. “We’ve got to get some breakfast sooner or later.”

“I suppose we should just get it over with - I’m famished. ” Hermione giggled again. “I’d better go back to my own room to get showered and changed though!” 

“Yeah, me too,” said Harry with a proper grin. “I’ll see you in a few minutes then.”

Half an hour later, the pair of them, clean and freshly dressed, made their way down to the Pub for breakfast. Sure enough, Tom the Barman and Innkeeper was smirking and winking behind the counter, chortling and whispering to the waitress as he washed some dishes. Embarrassed, Harry and Hermione fled through the back into Diagon Alley to find a little cafe to eat breakfast at instead.

“Blimey!” said Harry after he washed down his last bit of bacon and eggs with some tea, a worrying thought popping into his mind. “I hope they don’t tell everyone... Technically I’m a legal adult now.”

Hermione nearly snorted her tea out of her nose.

 _“What?”_ she squeaked.

Harry thought back to the last moment he’d seen Hermione. The last few months of school after they had killed the Basilisk had been blissfully, gloriously peaceful for a change - even Draco Malfoy had stayed far away from them both, alternating between fearful looks and scowls. And when it had finished, Harry had hated saying goodbye to Hermione at King’s Cross Station.

“Maybe your aunt and uncle will be nicer to you when they hear what you did this year,” Hermione had said hopefully as they joined the crowd thronging toward the magical barrier between the wizard world and the Muggle world.

“Nicer?” Harry had snorted sardonically, “Yeah _right!_ You must be joking! All those times I could’ve died, and didn’t manage it? They’ll be furious...” 

Hand in hand, Harry and Hermione had passed through the gateway to the Muggle world. 

As Harry’s reminiscence picked up after they’d hugged warmly and said their last goodbyes, he told Hermione everything that had happened since. 

“The Dursleys locked up all of my school things as usual in the cupboard under the stairs the moment we got back....” Harry began. He told her how he had been forced to creep down the stairs in the dead of night and pick the lock as George Weasley had taught him, and then lug all of his schoolbooks and homework assignments up to his room.

“So you managed to get it all done early this year?” Hermione interrupted Harry, beaming. 

“Yeah, it was brilliant! I could only do my homework after bedtime, but as long as I didn’t get ink spots on my sheets, they didn’t have to know I was studying magic,” said Harry with a grin. 

“I managed to get everything finished by my Birthday more or less - I got my History of Magic essay done the night before - remind me to learn a flame freezing charm by the way, just in case the Dursleys ever try to burn me at the stake...” he continued. “They were already in a bad mood because Ron tried ringing me up on the telephone about a week in...”

When Harry told Hermione how dreadfully that had turned out, Hermione rolled her eyes and groaned. 

“I’m sorry Harry, I wanted to call myself, but I was afraid of getting you in trouble. And even if I’d wanted to get my parents involved against your wishes, it was already too late for...” 

“Forget it Hermione,” Harry interjected. “Apparently someone - Dumbledore mostly I think - had already intervened, but I didn’t know it at the time. Fudge said that someone from the Ministry - Madam Bones I think - she must be related to Susan - had sent them a warning...”

“I suppose that must have done _**some**_ good though, because Uncle Vernon didn’t thump me this year, like he did after the Pudding Incident last year - Dobby must have known how Uncle Vernon treated me, because Fudge said something about ‘confirming it’ with him.” 

“Oh...” said Hermione sadly, “I had an awful feeling that’s where your nasty bruises had come from last year. I know you didn’t want to tell anyone... but I’m _**really**_ glad that Dumbledore found out somehow and did something.”

“Yeah, me too actually,” Harry responded, surprised at himself, and wondering when Hermione had spotted the bruising and welts - perhaps while changing his shirt when they were staying with the Weasleys. “Mind you, that didn’t stop the bloody Dursleys from literally trying to starve me to death again... I managed to make it to my 13th birthday alive though...” Harry beamed.

“And thanks again for the broomstick servicing kit by the way - that’s a _**lovely**_ birthday present. Much better than one I got from the Dursleys - a visit from ‘Aunt’ Marge...” Harry’s demeanor darkened as he told Hermione everything about the visit from Uncle Vernon’s sister.

“She called your Mum a _**bitch**_ to your face?” Hermione squeaked in horror. “That’s _**awful**_...”

“And _**then**_ she went on repeating the horrid lies that Uncle Vernon would always tell - as if they were true...” Harry fumed, “that my mum and dad were unemployed drunk layabouts who crashed their car while drinking...” 

“I didn’t even use my wand - I was probably delirious from lack of food. I mean, I’ve put up with worse before without losing it, but I don't really know why... I just lost control of my magic...”

“I didn’t mean to turn her into a bloody balloon - I _**swear**_ it Hermione!” Harry’s expression had gone from furious to guilt-stricken in an instant, and it broke Hermione’s heart. She could almost see Harry calling himself a Freak in his mind.

“She _**deserved**_ it Harry!” Hermione said forcefully, her nostrils flaring angrily. “What a nasty, horrid woman...” 

Harry peered at Hermione, momentarily confused.

“She is alright isn’t she?” said Hermione. 

“Well... yeah! Fudge said that getting her back to normal was easy for the Magic Reversal Squad...” 

“Then she got nothing worse than a bit of a nasty scare, which is nothing more than she deserved!” Hermione stated firmly as she took one of Harry’s hands in her own and gave it a comforting squeeze.

Harry’s agitation began to abate. Feeling grateful for Hermione’s presence, he took a deep breath and continued. He told her about storming out, angry and terrified, seeing a large scary black shadow which he was certain must have been an enormous dog of some sort, and of catching the Knight Bus by accident.

And then he repeated everything that Fudge had told him and finally got to the good bit, and why that was making him anxious about her being in his room at the Leaky Cauldron all night. Hermione was torn between being frightened for Harry, and thrilled for him, but she couldn’t help giggling. 

“Well Harry, you may legally be an adult now, and I’m not - but technically _**I’m**_ an older woman. I’m ten months older than you... I’ll be 14 this September.” 

Hermione felt a wave of relief when she saw Harry’s last bit of anxiety melt away and his face light up again.

“Yeah, you’re right Hermione,” Harry chortled. “I knew that... but I never thought of it that way!”

“And you’re _**not**_ to get me anything more for my birthday Harry!” Hermione said adamantly. “You’re _**already**_ paying my way for the next few weeks and buying my school things for me. And being here with you is the _**best**_ early birthday present I could possibly have.


	8. The Owl and the Pussycat

The young Runaways enjoyed their few weeks of freedom together in Diagon Alley immensely, and Harry gradually became used to the exhilarating sense of liberation. It had been very weird at first, being able to eat whatever he liked, wake up whenever he wanted - which was usually whenever Hermione wanted - and go wherever he wanted. 

They were both sorely tempted to explore a bit of Muggle London too as Hermione wanted to show Harry all of the loveliest bits of Muggle life that Harry had missed while living with the Dursleys, and London had many of the finest examples of it, Hermione assured him. But they restrained themselves, knowing that a dangerous mass-murderer was on the loose who seemed to have it in for Harry.

“...Besides, I _did_ tell the Minister I’d stick around Diagon Alley for my own safety,” Harry told Hermione, sighing. “After he emancipated me, he said that it was ‘strongly advisable’ that I stay close to other wizards while Sirius Black is at large. And I really don’t know any fighting spells yet, so I said I would.”

“I suppose it _**is**_ for the best!” Hermione nodded sympathetically, reluctantly agreeing. “As much as I’d love to explore London with you - it would be very irresponsible of me to encourage you to leave the wizard world at the moment. And you’re right, neither of us really knows any _proper_ defensive spells.”

“That reminds me Hermione, I was thinking we really need to learn some sort of spell to retrieve our wands,” Harry muttered. “After Riddle disarmed us in the Chamber of Secrets...”

“...we were both really vulnerable. I agree Harry,” said Hermione eagerly. “We can look it up when we get back to Hogwarts. I think there’s a summoning spell which is usually taught in Fourth Year Charms. We don’t have Fourth Year books, but Professor Flitwick is sure to have a few spares in the Charms classroom...”

“...and if not, we should be able to find some in the school library. Brilliant, Hermione!” Harry concluded with a grin. 

Neither Harry nor Hermione wanted to spend their nights alone, and they stole to each other’s rooms in the evenings, being much more careful than they had the first night not to be seen coming and going out of the same room together. They cuddled on their little settees in front of their crackling fireplaces, reading, laughing, and chatting. 

Harry was very pleased that Hermione had brought some storybooks, which they read aloud to each other before drifting off to sleep, carefully lying on opposite sides of whichever bed they were sleeping in - Harry in his pyjamas and Hermione in her nightie. 

They both felt more than a bit shy and awkward about it at first, because they instinctively knew that sleeping in the same bed together in an Inn, really wasn’t the same as spending nights comforting each other in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts.

After getting over their initial embarrassment from the mishap of their first night together in the Leaky Cauldron, Harry and Hermione ate breakfasts in the Pub. Their days were spent lazily browsing through the shops of Diagon Alley, and gradually picking up school supplies. But they made time to study in the afternoons at the outdoor tables of the little cafes and read all of their new schoolbooks. The only one they didn’t manage to read was _The Monster Book of Monsters_ , which neither of them had worked out how to open without getting bitten.

Florean Fortescue had quickly taken to the young couple studying at the little table outside of his ice cream parlour every afternoon, and he wouldn’t take a knut for the ice-cream sundaes he kept bringing them. He had spotted Harry and Hermione both going over Harry’s History of Magic essay about Wendelin the Weird and began regaling them with his own quite prodigious knowledge, much to their delight. 

“I wish _**you**_ were our History of Magic professor instead of Binns, Mr Fortescue,” said Harry with a grin as Hermione eagerly nodded in agreement. “The subject and the books are really interesting, but Binns always puts me to sleep in class!” 

“Haha... that old blighter?” Florean chortled. “He could make the sinking of the Lusitania seem about as exciting as falling out of a paddleboat in a pond!”

“Oh!” Hermione gasped. “Do you know a bit of muggle history too then?” she asked, her eyes sparkling happily.

“Yes indeed! I have a bit of muggle blood on my mother’s side,” Florean said proudly. “I wanted to know _everything_ about the history of both worlds...”

The next morning, after a visit to Gringotts, Harry’s pockets were freshly bursting and jingling, and Hermione looked a bit ill from the cart ride again. Harry also thought that Hermione appeared to be feeling a bit guilty still after seeing his vault; he assured her that there was at least enough to get them both through the next five years of Hogwarts, if absolutely necessary, and a good bit more besides.

“ _ **Really**_ Hermione - it’s enough to see us both off to a jolly good start at life! My mum and dad obviously weren’t super-rich... But now I’ve had a proper look at what they’ve left for me, without feeling rushed, and there's a lot more than I thought. As long as I spend it responsibly, we could live really comfortably on what’s in there even for a few years after school until we get jobs we like, if we wanted to!”

Harry let out a sigh of relief and smiled when Hermione nodded shyly and blushed, taking his arm as they departed the bank.

For all that Harry managed to admirably restrain himself from buying everything in sight that caught his attention, he was sorely tempted when he saw the latest racing-broom on display in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies. A number of children too young for Hogwarts had their noses pressed against the windowpane, gawking at the sleek gleaming broomstick with their parents.

“The Firebolt... Wicked!” gasped a tousle-headed little boy. 

“It’s the fastest in the world!” squeaked a little girl who appeared to be his sister, her eyes wide.

“The shop-owner said that Irish International’s put an order in for seven...” Harry heard an awed, well-dressed wizard remark to his elegant wife hopefully. 

“Maybe next year after we look at our budget dear,” she replied firmly, giving her husband a gentle pat on the arm.

Harry knew that if even these rather well-to-do looking wizards had budgetary considerations, that the Firebolt was well out of his league, and he put it out of his mind at once. He was very happy with his Nimbus 2000; it had never failed him. The House Quidditch matches had resumed after the Basilisk had been killed not long after Easter and Oliver Wood had wept for joy when Harry led them to a flawless victory over everyone - including the Slytherins on their Malfoy purchased Nimbus 2001’s.

But when it came to Hermione, Harry felt far less restraint about spending money. When Harry said that it was about time that she had her own animal, Hermione squashed her urge to argue, sensing strongly that it would upset him if she refused to let him buy her a pet.

“You can get an owl if you’d like Hermione,” said Harry cheerfully when they entered the Magical Menagerie. “Or whatever else strikes your fancy. I’m perfectly happy to share Hedwig with you!”

“ _Thank you_ Harry!” squeaked Hermione with a teary smile as she peered at all of the animals around the shop. “I’d been thinking I should get an owl this year, but maybe...” 

Hermione’s eyes gleamed when she spotted a fat and fluffy, ginger tabby cat which looked a bit like a tiger with a squashed, almost grumpy face. It was yawning, stretched out lazily on the shop counter next to a cage with several tap-dancing black rats who didn’t seem afraid of it in the least. 

One of the rodents winked at the others and sauntered over to the edge of their cage. It reached through the wires of the cage with one of its little hands and tweaked one of the cat’s whiskers. The cat seemed to grin and it batted playfully at the sleek black rat, purring in contentment.

“Oh Harry...” Hermione whispered, as her breath caught.

“Well... I suppose if the shop-owner doesn’t mind!” Harry grinned, thinking that the cat looked a bit funny himself. But he rather liked cats, and he wanted Hermione to have whatever made her happy.

“His name is Crookshanks,” said the friendly witch behind the counter when she spotted Harry and Hermione both stroking the fluffy purring beast as it flicked its bushy tail languidly. “He’s for sale if you like him.” 

“He’s half-kneazle, that’s why he’s not in a cage,” the witch continued brightly. “They’re very intelligent - can converse with, and get on well with other common Familiar animals - they understand human speech - and they’re _**excellent**_ judges of character...”

Hermione peered at Harry pleadingly, her eyes shining as she bounced on her toes.

“We’ll take him,” Harry chortled happily without hesitation. The witch behind the counter was really pleased.

“Poor Crookshanks has been here for a good long while,” beamed the witch as she rang Harry up. “Most people think he’s a bit too funny looking - and I swear, I’d have to say that he was waiting for just the right person!’

Hermione joyfully carried Crookshanks all the way back to the Leaky Cauldron. When they arrived outside of their rooms, Harry opened his door to drop off some of the other school supplies that he’d picked up for them that morning. Crookshanks jumped out of Hermione’s arms and followed Harry into his room, peering around in curiosity. 

He purred and rubbed his head against Harry’s leg while Harry opened his trunk. Hedwig’s big amber eyes widened. She fluttered her snowy white wings and flew across the room, lighting upon the floor next to the large furry orange feline. 

“Oh no... Crookshanks!” Hermione anxiously squeaked, biting her nails and hoping that her new pet wasn’t going to fight with Harry’s. 

For his own part, Harry wasn’t too perturbed. He’d seen how well the half-kneazle had got on with the other animals in the shop, and it was Hedwig who had taken it upon herself to approach Crookshanks first. Nonetheless, Harry held his breath as he regarded the interaction between the two animals. 

Hedwig quickly preened her feathers and batted her eyelashes, cooing softly at Crookshanks, looking for all the world like she was curtseying. The fat fluffy ginger beast coiled himself affectionately around the large snowy owl, purring loudly. The Owl and the Cat danced gingerly together in circles as Hermione gasped and darted into Harry’s room, shutting the door behind her.

 _ **“They like each other!”**_ squealed Hermione delightedly, as she wrapped her arms around Harry, kissing him several times on the cheek. 

“I _**knew**_ they would,” Harry grinned and hugged Hermione back. “Let’s leave them to it in here then - I’m feeling a bit hungry. Why don’t we get some lunch and do a bit of studying? They’ll be fine together...” 

As the end of August approached, Harry and Hermione kept looking for signs of the Weasleys, running into a number of other students picking up their school supplies. Parvati and her sister Padma couldn’t stop giggling when they discovered that Harry and Hermione had been spending the last few weeks at the Leaky Cauldron in rooms across the hall from each other. 

After that, they both carefully avoided discussing the details of their current living arrangements when they came across Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas ogling the Firebolt in the window of the Quidditch Supply shop. Harry nervously eyed Neville’s formidable looking grandmother when he and Hermione ran into them one day, hoping that she never found out that he’d been pretending to be her grandson when he’d fled Number 4 Privet Drive.

Each morning, whose-ever bed they had been sleeping in, Harry and Hermione would find themselves closer together than they had been when they’d gone to sleep. And on the day before they would have to leave for King’s Cross, Harry woke up with a start, feeling Hermione snuggled right up against his back, her arm curled around his waist, her warm breath caressing the skin of his neck, the scent of her toothpaste intoxicating. 

Harry swallowed nervously, suddenly wide awake, his heart pounding, aware that this was the closest he had ever been to Hermione in a bed which wasn’t in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. It was still dark and moonlight poured in through the window. Harry peered at the clock on the mantelpiece and realised it was still really early. It wasn’t even 4:30 am yet.

Harry heard the fluttering of wings and he glanced back across the room towards the window. He caught the eye of Hedwig, who was perching on top of the polished oak wardrobe, just about to settle down for a nap after a nighttime prowl. Crookshanks pounced up from the open windowsill, apparently having just returned from prowling too. The ginger cat curled around the white snowy owl and peered back at Harry, purring in the moonlight, almost daring him to say something. 

Harry grinned and began to relax again. Feeling comforted in Hermione’s slumbering warm embrace, he let out a contented sigh and soon drifted off back to sleep.

**~o0o~**

“Harry... HARRY!” someone yelled cheerfully.

Harry looked up and beamed when he saw Ron grinning at him, looking more freckly than ever. Ron suddenly noticed there was a girl with bushy brown hair that he’d recognise anywhere sitting at Harry’s little round table, eating lunch with him, when she turned to smile at Ron. 

“Hi Ron!” Harry waved, grinning back at him. 

“Hello Ron - how was Egypt?” asked Hermione, her face glowing as she pulled her chair a bit closer to Harry to make room for Ron. 

“Hello Hermione,” said Ron, looking a bit surprised to find her in Diagon Alley with Harry. Ron recovered quickly and the grin returned to his face as he sat down at the table. “Egypt was smashing - loads of fun!” 

“There were these mummies...” continued Ron. “You should have seen them. Mutants - with extra heads... I wrote to Harry about them earlier this summer...” Ron turned to Harry. “Anyway, we got here a while ago - we looked for you in the Leaky, but they said you’d left earlier this morning, and I didn’t see you in Flourish and Blotts or Madam Malkins...”

“We got most of our stuff weeks ago,” Harry explained. “We’ve already given our new schoolbooks a read-through...”

“Oh yeah!” Ron nodded at Harry as light dawned. “Of course - I knew you were here already because Dad told me. I heard you were in trouble again for blowing up your Aunt...” Ron sniggered loudly and Hermione shot him a reproachful look. “I didn’t realise you’d been here the whole time since then though...”

Suddenly, Ron became aware of the strange way that Harry had said “we,” and he turned back to look at Hermione with a puzzled expression on his face.

“Er... so when did you get back from France then Hermione?” he asked. 

“I... er... we didn’t go...” Hermione gulped awkwardly, all of a sudden at a loss for words. 

Harry squeezed Hermione’s hand comfortingly under the table, and jumped in to try and save her from having to explain her own painful situation.

“Hermione’s been keeping me company,” Harry said quickly. “I didn’t feel like being alone in Diagon Alley, so I got her a room at the Leaky Cauldron to stay in as well...”

There was a flicker of some emotion that Harry didn’t quite recognise in Ron’s features, then Ron just looked bewildered again, forgetting all about being interested in why Hermione hadn’t gone to France. 

“Blimey!” muttered Ron, “So you’ve _**both**_ been here for a few weeks...” He shook his head and smirked. “Bet you’ve both got all your homework done already - like usual.” 

Ron was grinning again now, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief that Hermione hadn’t had to relive her terrible row with her parents. Hermione looked much brighter as well; she squeezed Harry's hand gratefully under the table. 

“Anyway...” Ron continued, “I forgot to tell you Harry, Mum didn’t really give me a hard time about having a new wand or ask me what happened to my old one. I’m not really sure why though...”

Harry suspected that it might have something to do with the fact that Mrs Weasley was just happy that all of her children were alive after the end of the Chamber of Secrets business, but he didn’t say anything as Ron went on. 

“...and Dad just seemed really pleased... especially after having to buy all my new schoolbooks. So anyway what happened with the Ministry Harry? Dad didn’t say if they’d given you another warning or not.” 

“You’re _**never**_ going to believe this Ron,” Harry began excitedly, feeling a fresh thrill of freedom coming on. “ _ **I**_ still can’t believe it really! ... I didn’t get in trouble at all. In fact, I can do magic anytime I like now - as long as I’m careful around muggles...”

Harry excitedly told Ron everything that had happened, and about how the Minister had emancipated him. Harry didn’t even notice the odd flicker of emotion in Ron’s features again as he regaled Ron with what Cornelius Fudge had told him. By the time he’d finished, Ron just looked stunned and a bit frightened.

“Bloody Hell! So you’ve got another murdering nutter on your case then!” Ron gasped.

“Yeah! But what else is new? I’m used to it!” Harry said with an easy grin, glossing over his own pang of anxiety. “At least I don’t have to worry about getting in trouble with the Ministry anymore... I just need to study _really_ hard so that I can learn plenty of useful magic.”

Hermione had been mostly quiet as Harry and Ron caught each other up, but she grinned herself, and let out a little squeak of happiness.

“Harry’s taking Ancient Runes with me,” she beamed. “We’ve given the course-book a really good overview, and there’s lots of stuff that should be really useful for defensive magic!”

“Er...Wow! Runes? _**You?**_ ” Ron gaped at Harry, his eyes flickering towards Hermione. “That sounds bloody hard Harry! Glad _**I’m**_ not taking that class! Anyway... I really should be getting to the Magical Menagerie so they can have a look at Scabbers - He’s been looking really peaky since we got back from Egypt!”

Harry and Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon with Ron. They admired the Firebolt in the window of the Quidditch shop and eventually stopped in the magical pet shop to look for some rat tonic. The friendly witch smiled at Harry and Hermione when she saw them again, then turned to Ron.

“Alright dear, bung your rat on the counter and let’s have a look then,” she said kindly. “Oh dear... he really _**has**_ been through the mill, hasn’t he!?” The witch frowned pensively as she peered closely at Scabbers. “How old is he then?”

“Dunno really,” Ron shrugged. “My brother Percy’s had him for a few years before he even started at Hogwarts - and this is his last year - and I’ve had Scabbers since I started Hogwarts two years ago...”

“Well, that doesn’t make any sense!” the witch muttered. “Rats don’t generally live more than three or four years at best - this one should be long gone by now...”

Harry felt a sudden chill and he glanced at Hermione; she had the same dark look in her eye.

“Look, is there anything that can help him or not?” griped Ron, suddenly exasperated. 

What did it matter if his rat was at least ten years old? All he cared about was that Scabbers was ill. The witch found Ron a bottle of rat tonic, and he was feeling a bit more cheery by the time he got back to the Leaky Cauldron with Harry and Hermione.

“So _we’re_ spending the night here too,” Ron said with a sudden grin. “We can all go to King’s Cross together tomorrow - Mum and Dad will be pleased to see you both. So where’re your rooms then?”

“Right down here, I’m Number 11,” said Harry. “Hermione is over there - she’s Number 10. D’you want to see then?”

“Yeah, alright!” said Ron.

Harry opened the door and Ron wandered into his room. It was nearly spotless, the various oak and mahogany pieces of furniture polished to a fine sheen, the four-poster bedclothes as neat as a pin. The only thing that seemed slightly incongruous was the frilly long dressing gown on the bed. Harry stifled a groan and Hermione drew a sharp intake of breath. 

“That looks almost like what Ginny wears over her nighties before bedtime,” Ron sniggered. “Bit girly for you isn’t it Harry?” Suddenly a look of recognition crossed Ron’s face. “ _Hang_ on... I’ve seen that before! Hermione was wearing it in the Hospital Wing at Christmas when she was half-cat...”

Ron’s jaw dropped as he stared at his two red-faced friends, not sure what it meant. Scabbers poked his head out of Ron’s pocket to see what all the fuss was about. There was a sudden hiss, and the next thing Ron knew, he was under attack by a yowling, spitting ball of orange fur and claws. 

“CROOKSHANKS NO!” shouted Hermione, grabbing her cat and pulling him off Ron. 

Ron dove to catch Scabbers who had squirmed out of his hands and was darting across the floor towards the doorway in terror. There was a loud hoot and a great flapping of wings as Hedwig flew after the running rodent. Harry cut Scabbers off and managed to grab him before Hedwig could reach the rodent with her talons and beak. But holding the struggling rat proved to be a great difficulty, as Scabbers sank his sharp little teeth into Harry’s fingers twice when Harry passed him to Ron. 

“Ow! Scabbers bit me!” Harry muttered, peering at his bleeding fingers. “That’s the thanks I get for saving him from Hedwig?” 

Harry gave Hedwig and Scabbers both a glare and Hedwig flew back to her perch atop the oak wardrobe, looking slightly sheepish. Harry frowned when he caught Hedwig looking apologetically at Crookshanks too - who was still hissing in Hermione’s arms. He wondered what _**that**_ was all about; Hedwig had never gone after Scabbers before.

 _ **“What the Bloody Hell?”**_ Ron roared at Hermione. “Is that Monster yours then?” he asked crossly as he stuffed his trembling rat back into his pocket.

“I’m _**sorry**_ Ron! He didn’t mean it!” said Hermione in a panicky voice, glancing at Harry darkly, neither of them entirely sure if that was true. “He’s a cat!”

“ _ **Blimey!**_ What the hell did you get a cat instead of an owl for, Hermione?” grumbled Ron. “You _**know**_ I’ve got Scabbers!”

“Well Crookshanks will be in the girl’s dorm with me, won’t he?” squeaked Hermione, still looking anxious. 

“ _Look_ Ron, you can’t expect everyone to get only pets that you approve of,” Harry pointed out perfectly reasonably. “We had no idea that was going to happen - the cat was perfectly fine with all of the rats in the pet shop. And Hermione said she was sorry...”

Ron peered at Hermione’s trembling lower lip and pooling eyes. Crookshanks had calmed down and was purring now that Scabbers was safely tucked away.

“Yeah! You’re right Harry!” Ron sighed. “I’m sorry too Hermione!” Ron then gave Hedwig a quizzical look. “I suppose your owl just joined in because of all the excitement Harry!?”

“I expect so. I’m sorry about that as well Ron!” 

“Alright, why don’t we see what’s for dinner in the Pub then? I’m starving...” said Ron, feeling mollified and having forgotten all about Hermione’s dressing gown sitting on Harry’s bed.

As the three young wizards left Harry’s room and shut the door behind them, Crookshanks leapt from the mahogany dresser with the mirror to the very top of the oak wardrobe. Hedwig shared a look with Crookshanks and uttered a little hoot, ruffling her feathers a bit. 

Crookshanks shrugged, then purred and rubbed himself affectionately against Hedwig's chest, curling his bushy tail around her. The owl and the pussycat both sighed and settled down for a nice long nap before their nightly prowl under the moonlight together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With my regards to Edward Lear! ;-)


	9. Demons of the Past

The gleaming red steam engine released hisses of billowing hot vapour as students and parents clamoured and thronged on platform nine and three quarters. Mrs Weasley had given all of her children hugs and kisses - including Harry and Hermione whom she was very fond of - and was now passing out sandwiches for the long train-ride to Hogwarts. 

Harry flinched when Mr Weasley touched his arm and guided him gently to a nearby pillar. 

“Harry...” said Mr Weasley quietly as he glanced around to make sure nobody could hear, “I need to tell you something before you go...”

“Er... it’s alright Mr Weasley,” said Harry. “Minister Fudge already told me about Sirius Black - that he’s out to get me...”

“Really?” Mr Weasley looked stunned, he hadn’t expected that. 

“Yeah! That’s why he emancipated me...”

“He did...?” gasped Mr Weasley. 

“Er... yeah!” Harry nodded. “He did it so that I don’t have to worry about getting in trouble with the Ministry if I have to use a bit of magic outside of school to protect myself.”

“My goodness!” said Mr Weasley, still looking quite bewildered. “Well... I suppose - after the business with the Basilisk and the Philosopher’s Stone - he must have realised that you’re made of stronger stuff...” 

“Arthur - the train...” Mrs Weasley called out.

“Just a moment Molly dear,” Mr Weasley replied before returning to Harry in even more hushed tones. “Harry... I don’t have time to explain - and it’s not really my place... maybe Dumbledore - If Fudge thinks you’re man enough to look after yourself that’s one thing, but be careful... please don’t go _**looking**_ for Black yourself!”

“What?” Harry stared in shock. “Why would I...?”

A loud whistle echoed across the platform as the engine began to chuff and clank, wheels screeching. Mrs Weasley called out again. Harry peered at Mr Weasley questioningly, but all Mr Weasley had to offer was an anxious expression. Harry didn’t have time to wheedle any more information out of Ron’s father. In exasperation he ran for it and leapt up to the open door of the carriage as Ron and Hermione reached out to haul him aboard.

“Well that was weird...” Harry gasped at Ron. “Your dad... er... maybe we should talk in private.”

Ron nodded and the three of them managed to find an empty compartment further down the narrow passageway as the train pulled out of the station. Harry told Hermione and Ron what Ron’s father had said and they both appeared to be as bewildered as he was.

“Honestly Harry,” said Ron. “I don’t know what my dad’s on about!”

“I wonder why he’d think you’d go looking for someone who's trying to kill you?” said Hermione, frowning pensively.

“There’s more to this...” Harry muttered. “Fudge said more or less the same thing about it not really being his place to tell me everything. I think Dumbledore knows too. Fudge and Ron’s dad both seemed to think he might tell me.”

“Oh... well that’s alright then isn’t it!?” Ron shrugged dismissively. “What’s to worry about then? Dumbledore’ll tell you...”

“Yeah... I suppose he will,” said Harry, nodding stiffly at Ron. “I’ll just ask him about it later then. Forget about it Ron!” Harry concluded with a slight frown.

“Anyway, at least you’ll be able to go to Hogsmeade.” Ron’s features brightened as he changed the subject. “Now that you’re emancipated I mean - you won’t even need a note from your guardians.”

“Don’t be silly Ron!” Hermione snapped crossly, having noticed Ron’s dismissiveness of Harry’s worry. “Of _**course**_ Harry could go if he wanted to - but there’s a maniac after him! He’s much safer at school...” she glanced at Harry, discerning an ambivalent expression on his face.

“...er... you don’t really want to go, do you Harry?” said Hermione, suddenly anxious. “I mean I know you _**do**_... but you told Fudge...”

A battle was going on in Harry’s mind. He really _**did**_ want to go to Hogsmeade. Ron had told him all of the good things he’d heard about Hogsmeade from his brothers last night. And there would be loads of wizards there, so he should be safer than in Muggle London. But somehow Harry didn’t think that a mass-murderer who had killed over a dozen people, and who had escaped from a wizard prison, would really be put off by a village full of wizards. 

Harry looked back and forth between Ron’s eager face, and Hermione’s worried one. Suddenly the proverbial light clicked on in Harry’s head.

“I don’t want to go if Hermione can’t go...” said Harry. 

Harry clapped his hand to his mouth, horror-stricken when he realised what he’d just said. He peered apologetically at Hermione who was looking crestfallen. 

“Whaddya mean Hermione can’t go?” asked Ron, utterly flabbergasted.

“My... my parents... they wouldn’t sign my form,” Hermione said in a small voice. 

“It doesn’t matter!” Harry said loudly, drawing Ron’s attention back upon himself. “Hermione’s right! I’ll be safer at Hogwarts if there’s a mad killer on the loose after me!”

“But what about Zonko’s, and Honeydukes...?” Ron moaned. “And the Shrieking Shack? It’s supposed to be the most haunted house in Britain! Besides, _**I’ll**_ be with you!” 

Harry had to struggle not to roll his eyes. 

“Ron, d’you seriously think a mass-murderer is going to care who’s with me? You’d be killed too!” he muttered in exasperation.

“Fine... whatever!” Ron fumed, wondering if Seamus and Dean would let him tag along on Hogsmeade days. 

Just as Ron thought his mood couldn’t get any worse, the door of the compartment flew open and he was staring at Draco Malfoy, flanked by his knuckle-dragging henchmen, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

“Well... if it isn’t Weasel-boy, Scarface, and the Mudblood,” sneered Malfoy. “I heard your father finally landed a few galleons this summer Weasleby! Did he upgrade your house from a chicken coop to a pigsty yet?”

Harry badly wanted to hit Malfoy and push him out the window of the train for calling Hermione a Mudblood, but he found himself holding a struggling Ron back instead while Crabbe and Goyle sniggered loudly.

“And what about you Scarface? What are you doing on the train... thought _**you’d**_ be hunting down that escaped maniac by now! I know _**I**_ would be if it was me,” Malfoy snorted derisively. “But maybe you’re too scared to risk your neck for a bit of revenge! Going to leave it up to the Ministry are you?”

Harry’s mind whirled chaotically, and he almost lost his grip on Ron. Malfoy obviously knew something he didn’t. But Harry wasn’t about to let Malfoy have the satisfaction of knowing that.

“Well... Sirius Black seems like small potatoes to me, Malfoy,” Harry said coolly, “I thought I’d start with your daddy first, seeing as he was one of Voldemort’s best mates and all!”

Harry couldn’t tell who was more frightened, Ron by the mention of Voldemort’s name, or Malfoy by the fact that Harry wasn’t afraid to threaten his father. Harry didn’t really know if Lucius Malfoy was a good friend of Voldemort - but it seemed like a reasonable assumption as the elder Malfoy had possessed Voldemort’s diary - and the accusation seemed to have struck a nerve.

Harry noted Malfoy’s ashen features with satisfaction, and he felt cheered by hearing Hermione’s nervous giggle at his witty retort. Malfoy recovered his usual vindictive expression quickly and was about to make another rejoinder when a familiar presence loomed in the narrow corridor of the train behind him. 

“Is there a problem here boys?” asked Professor Lupin, his eyes narrowing at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

“No... _**sir!**_ ” Malfoy responded, with more than a hint of disdain as he peered at the shabbily dressed professor. “We were just leaving... come on Crabbe, Goyle!” Malfoy spun around and stalked away from the compartment followed by his goon-squad.

“Is everyone here alright?” Lupin glanced at Ron and Hermione, but his expression of concern seemed most directed at Harry. “I believe I heard someone mention Sirius Black!”

Harry nodded, swallowing apprehensively as the professor entered the compartment and shut the door behind him. Scabbers poked his nose out of Ron’s pocket, then gave a squeak of fright and quickly burrowed down as far as he could go. Ron was still seething, but he patted the quivering bulge at the bottom of his pocket sympathetically.

“Harry...” the professor began haltingly. “I... I think there’s something I need to tell you... You may want to sit down for this!”

As he sat, Harry suddenly realised that Professor Lupin was as nervous as he was, and that he had used Harry’s first name. Hermione sat right up next to Harry and took his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. Ron took a seat on the other side of the little table by the window, feeling more bewildered than cross now. Lupin started to speak again, raising his eyebrows.

“Harry... this may be difficult to hear! I... I’m not sure... your friends...”

“It’s alright sir... you can tell me whatever you like in front of them,” said Harry quickly, eager for information.

“Very well then! Harry... Sirius Black was a close friend of your parents, and a good friend of mine as well. We all went to school together... Sirius...” A pained expression crossed Lupin’s features as he paused. “...He betrayed your parents to Voldemort...”

**~o0o~**

Hermione bit her lip in an unsuccessful bid to stop herself from crying as Professor Lupin left the compartment with the promise of returning soon, after having filled Harry in on some of the details. Her own problems seemed so insignificant compared to Harry’s.

“I’m so sorry Harry,” she whispered in a shaky voice as she clung to Harry, trembling in his arms as her tears dripped onto his shirt.

Ron was utterly flummoxed; a number of emotions roiled within as he peered awkwardly at his best mate and Hermione. He didn’t know what to make of his feelings. The only one which seemed clear at the moment, was that he knew Malfoy was right - anyone would want revenge if it was them. Harry had to be hurting, but he just sat there woodenly - comforting Hermione of all things. 

“Yeah... me too! Sorry about that mate...” Ron uttered hoarsely, not sure what else to say.

Harry nodded curtly in response. For his part, Harry wasn’t sure what to make of his own perplexing cauldron of feelings. Something seethed inside of him which he’d never really felt so deeply before. All Harry knew was that as long as he held onto Hermione, the world somehow still made a bit of sense. 

The awkward silence continued for about ten minutes, only broken by the occasional sniffle from Hermione and the clickety-clack of the wheels of the train. Crookshanks began to yowl mournfully. Hermione let go of Harry and reached for the basket.

“What are you doing? Don’t let that thing out!” snapped Ron.

“Poor Crookshanks needs a cuddle too. He’s very sensitive,” said Hermione as she clumsily opened the basket with shaking fingers. Crookshanks jumped out and curled up on Harry’s lap, his eyes fixed on the lump trembling in Ron’s pocket.

“Fine!” Ron muttered angrily as he stood up. “I’ll see you both later then. I’m going to find a safer compartment for Scabbers.” 

Crookshanks began to purr and stretched out across Harry’s and Hermione’s laps, and they both began to feel better. 

Professor Lupin seemed surprised that Ron had left when he returned. In the calmer environment, Harry and Hermione finally noticed that the professor appeared to look a bit drawn and haggard. Lupin smiled at them anxiously - hoping that he hadn’t said too much.

“Thanks for telling me what happened Professor!” said Harry quietly, returning Lupin’s smile. “I won’t go looking for Black... I promise!”

“Thank you Harry!” Lupin let out a great sigh of relief. “That’s a worry off my mind. I am only sorry that I never told you sooner how close I was to your parents. They meant a great deal to me... But I wasn’t sure...”

“It’s alright sir... really! I’m just happy to know now,” said Harry, his smile broadening into a grin. 

Lupin settled in at the end of the seat-row and soon fell into a slumber, feeling greatly cheered. Harry and Hermione chatted in whispers and watched the countryside pass by. The sky grew darker as the train trundled northward and rain began to pelt at the windows. 

When the plump witch with the food trolley appeared shortly after midday, Harry purchased some cauldron cakes, ginger lemon fizzes, and a few pasties, setting some on the table for Lupin when he woke up. They munched happily, and drank their fizzes. Once full, Harry and Hermione began to doze peacefully themselves as the rain became heavier and the occasional peal of thunder could be heard over the clattering of the train.

**~o0o~**

Harry woke with a start. The lamps were all lit; it was black outside and the train was slowing down as the rain continued to hammer on the windows.

“Are we there yet?” he asked in puzzlement.

“I don’t think so,” Hermione yawned as she peered at her watch.

Finally the train jerked to a halt as the brakes shrieked. Suddenly everything went dark as the lamps flickered out. Harry started when the door to the compartment rattled open. He put his arm protectively around Hermione as several shadows, silhouetted by the lightning outside, stumbled in. 

“Is Ron here?”

“Ginny, is that you?” asked Hermione.

“Yes!”

“I expect Ron’s with Dean and Seamus,” said Harry.

“Yeah... that’s where I saw him last!” said a voice which sounded like Neville’s

“Can we come in too?” asked a frightened voice which was surely Lavender’s

“Of course!” said Harry and Hermione together.

“Who’s that?” asked a voice which obviously belonged to Parvati.

“Professor Lupin’s with us,” said Hermione. “He’s not well though, so try not to disturb him.”

Ginny, Neville, Lavender, and Parvati, all huddled together on the seat-row opposite Harry, Hermione and Professor Lupin, shivering as it grew colder. Ice crawled across the window-panes of the compartment door and Lavender squealed when a tall foreboding Shadow appeared on the other side. 

“Be very quiet,” whispered Lupin, who had just woken.

The compartment door screeched like fingernails on a blackboard as it slid open. A scabrous, rotting skeletal hand appeared, followed by the wraith-like figure which it was attached to; its cloak seemed to billow, undulating as if in swirls of liquid as it hovered in the doorway. 

The wraith drew a hissing, rattling breath and Harry felt an intense cold which chilled him to his very bones. For some reason, the wraith seemed fixated on Harry and drifted like smoke towards him.

Harry heard the bloodcurdling scream of a woman in the distance - drawing nearer - there was a flare of green light - and Harry tumbled into blackness.

“Harry... Hermione... are you alright?” 

Harry blinked, wondering what had happened as the world came back into focus. He suddenly realised that he was staring up at everyone from the floor. The lamps were all back on and several concerned people loomed over him. He felt a clutch of fear when he realised that Hermione was on the floor next to him, also seemingly stirring back to consciousness. The gentle hands of Parvati and Lavender helped lift Harry and Hermione off the floor and back into their seats.

“Wh...what was all the b...banging and sh...shouting?” stammered Hermione as she trembled.

“And the screaming? Who was screaming?” muttered Harry as he looked at the pale quaking forms of Ginny, Neville, Parvati, and Lavender. 

“There wasn’t any banging or shouting,” said Parvati. 

“And nobody screamed,” added Neville.

“Did any of you faint then?” Harry asked.

“No, just you and Hermione,” replied Neville. Harry frowned, wondering anxiously if he and Hermione were especially delicate.

“Here, eat these - you’ll feel better.” Professor Lupin passed everyone large bars of chocolate from his bag.

“What... what was that thing?” asked Harry as he took a bite of the chocolate, feeling awkward. Why had only he and Hermione heard things and fainted?

That was a Dementor - they are among the foulest creatures to walk this Earth!” Lupin replied, looking alarmed and perplexed. “They guard the wizard prison of Azkaban and have clearly been employed to assist in the hunt for Sirius Black.”

**~o0o~**

Professor McGonagall met Harry and Hermione when they arrived at school and marched them straight to the Hospital Wing where a number of other students were already being looked at by Madam Pomfrey who was bustling about trying to get to everyone. They both felt really sorry for a fragile looking little girl with dirty-blonde hair and big silvery grey round eyes who was still sobbing as she waited for the school nurse to look at her.

Harry still had half a bar of his chocolate left and he offered it to the girl.

“Professor Lupin gave us some chocolate on the train. He said it would help relieve some of the effects of the Dementors,” Harry said to the girl. “It _was_ a Dementor, right?”

“Y...yes!” the girl sniffled, nodding as she took the piece of chocolate and bit into it. “Th...thank you! I don’t usually f...fall apart and g...get so upset about things - _**really!**_ B...but I saw my M...Mum die a few years ago in a horrible spell accident. And I... I saw it happen again when the Dementor searched our compartment - and I f...fainted.”

“That’s so sad! I’m sorry,” squeaked Hermione; she had a sudden urge to hug the girl who looked small enough to be a First Year. 

“It... it’s alright to still be upset.” said Harry, suddenly feeling not so alone and delicate. It occurred to him that maybe the blonde haired girl would feel a bit better if he told her how he’d felt too. Swallowing nervously, he began, 

“I... I think the same thing happened to me. Now that I think about it, I think... I think it was my Mum I heard screaming when she was murdered. I... I was too little when it happened to really have a proper memory of it until the Dementor made me relive bits of it.”

Hermione gasped in horror and her grip on Harry’s hand tightened. He turned to peer at her anxiously, seeing a flush of shame across her cheeks.

“What happened to you Hermione?” Harry asked gently.

“N...nothing so d...dreadful really!” Hermione stammered and cast her eyes down as tears streaked her reddening cheeks. “I d...don’t understand! The w...worst thing that’s ever happened to _**m...me,**_ was the night Daddy tried to b...break down my d...door, and s...snap my wand! That’s _**n...nothing**_ compared to w...what happened to you two! I don’t know why I fainted.”

“Oh!” Harry’s eyes widened as it struck him that Hermione must have been much more frightened than she’d let on by her terrible experience. 

Hermione had just made it sound like she was more angry and upset than anything else. But then Harry remembered the brief flicker of fear he’d seen in Hermione’s eyes when she had first told him. Harry suddenly didn’t care that the Hospital Wing had over half a dozen students in it. He wrapped the tearful Hermione in his arms and cuddled her as the blonde girl with big round eyes watched.

“That sounds dreadful enough to me,” the blonde girl murmured sympathetically. “That’s very scary! I can’t imagine my Daddy ever being so mean to me. Did you get enough chocolate? There’s a bit left...”

The blonde girl with big eyes held out what was left of Harry’s bar of chocolate as Hermione looked up gratefully. Hermione gave the blonde girl a teary smile and took the chocolate.

“Thank you... er...”

“It’s Luna. I’m Luna Lovegood.” 

“I’m Hermione, and this is...” 

“Harry Potter,” said Luna with a sudden grin. “Everyone knows who Harry Potter is. Thank you both very much for being nice to me. It’s almost like having friends!”

“Er...” Harry was nearly overcome with bewilderment. “Don’t you have any friends then?”

“No!” Luna replied bluntly. “Most people call me Loony Lovegood and try to avoid me. Even after being in Hogwarts a whole year, people still didn’t want to sit with me on the train.”

Hermione couldn’t help herself now that they’d been introduced properly. She let go of Harry and flung herself on the startled Luna.

“ _ **We’ll**_ be your friends Luna,” said Hermione earnestly as she hugged the younger girl. “Harry and I _**both**_ know what it’s like not to have any.”

“Thank you Hermione!” beamed Luna. “By the way, your hugs work even better than the chocolate Professor Lupin gave you...”

Harry grinned for the first time since the Dementor attack. Madam Pomfrey couldn’t help overhearing as she approached with three large bars of chocolate and she turned to look at Professor McGonagall who was standing nearby.

“I hope Remus lasts, Minerva!” Madam Pomfrey said quietly to McGonagall. “It’s nice having someone competent as Defence Professor for a change.”

“To mention nothing of not being a dangerous criminal,” Minerva McGonagall added tartly with an arch of one eyebrow.

**~o0o~**

The twinkles vanished from Dumbledore’s eyes as he listened to Professor Lupin describing the events on the Hogwarts Express. The Sorting and the start of term feast would have to wait a short while longer.

“You are absolutely certain of this Remus?”

“There is no question in my mind Headmaster. The Dementor would have attacked Harry and administered the ‘Kiss’ had I not been there to prevent it.”

“This is disturbing news indeed!” Dumbledore nodded, accepting Remus’s accounting on his word. “All indications are that Voldemort is still out of the country, licking his wounds and biding his time until he finds some other means of return...”

“But who else could it be?”

“A very good question Remus. The answer to that question is what worries me most. It can only be someone of authority within the Ministry itself.”

“Are you serious?” gasped Lupin. 

“I am afraid so,” Dumbledore replied wearily. “Given Fudge’s recent emancipation of Harry per my request, I can only presume that this is some sort of retaliation by those within the Ministry and the Wizengamot who surreptitiously continue to promulgate a pureblood agenda - and there are many such who escaped prosecution after the last war.” 

“It is very likely someone associated with - possibly bribed by - Lucius Malfoy as revenge for the loss of his House-Elf and the near exposure of his role in the Chamber of Secrets. Had Lucius been brought up on charges, it could have resulted in his further exposure as one of Voldemort’s Death Eaters and resulted in a lengthy stay in Azkaban for him.”

“Of course!” Lupin groaned, growing paler. “That must be it. Well... thankfully we can rule out Amelia and Kingsley.”

“Indeed!” agreed Dumbledore as he stroked his long silvery beard thoughtfully. “I do have concerns about others within the DMLE who are close to the Minister though. However, there is little we can do for the moment except keep a close eye on things. In the meantime, it would be best to get the Sorting and the start of term feast underway. Poppy should have finished administering aid to those who succumbed to the effects of the Dementors on the train by now.

**~o0o~**

“ _ **There**_ you are! Are you alright?” gasped Ron, looking very pale and apologetic when Harry and Hermione finally both appeared at the Gryffindor table. “I’m sorry I was such a prat on the train...”

“It’s alright Ron, forget it,” said Harry as he sat down with Hermione. “I know you’re just worried about Scabbers.”

They were some of the last to arrive from the Hospital Wing. Parvati and Lavender both jumped up and gave Hermione hugs. Snorts of laughter and hoots of derision from the Slytherin table caught Harry’s attention and he spied Draco Malfoy grinning at him malevolently. 

“Is it true Potter?” called out Malfoy across the Hall. “You actually fainted?”

Harry flushed angrily, but then he remembered how frightened Draco Malfoy had briefly looked when he’d threatened Malfoy’s father and felt a bit better. He peered down the table and spied Ginny still shivering violently. Certain that she was reliving her experience in the Chamber of Secrets, Harry left his seat to give her a piece of his chocolate bar.

“Here Harry, give Ginny a bit of mine too,” said Hermione as she snapped her second bar of chocolate in half and passed it to him. “She really ought to have come up to the Hospital Wing too, even if she didn’t faint.”

“It was horrible,” Harry heard Neville telling Ron as he got up. “I almost thought I was going to pass out myself.”

“I just felt a bit cold and clammy, like I’d never be cheerful again,” said Ron as Dean and Seamus nodded sympathetically. “I hope they hurry up with the Sorting though. I’m bloody famished!”

Once the Sorting was finished, Ron groaned in hunger as the Headmaster launched into his start of term speech, warning everyone not to stray past the gates of Hogwarts and give the Dementors a reason to accost them. And though Ron was pleased when Dumbledore announced that Hagrid had attained the Care of Magical Creatures teaching job, he wished the feast would just hurry up and start already.

For his part, though he enjoyed the rest of the feast, Harry was very thankful when dessert arrived on the golden platters and saw a lot more items featuring chocolate than usual. He grinned when he spied Luna across the hall with smudges of chocolate cake on her face.

After dinner when they reached the Common Room, Hermione gave Harry a quick hug. Neither one of them wanted to part, but it was getting late.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Harry,” Hermione whispered in his ear before darting up the stairs to the girl’s dormitory. 

For the first time since he had started Hogwarts, Harry felt extremely unsettled as he clambered into his bed alone. He had got used to Hermione’s company at night and hadn’t had a single nightmare the few weeks that they had shared in Diagon Alley together. Harry didn’t want to spoil things for Ron though, who looked much more cheerful now that he had a full stomach and Scabbers was safe. 

“G’night Harry!” Ron grinned sleepily. “Good to be back isn’t it!?”

“Night Ron,” murmured Harry, returning Ron’s grin. “Yeah... it is!”

**~o0o~**

Harry shivered with cold as the whispers surrounded him in the freezing darkness. He groaned with pain as feeling began to return. Every bone in his body felt like it was broken. Harry felt as if he’d been beaten within an inch of his life, but he still couldn’t see, and he had no idea where he was or how he’d got there.

The whispers grew louder and Harry tried to make sense of them.

“I thought he was dead for sure...”

“But his glasses didn’t even break.”

“That was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen!”

Scariest thing... hooded wraith-like figures like smoke on the wind... screaming... freezing cold...

Harry’s eyes shot open as he gasped. The Gryffindor Quidditch team surrounded his bed. He was in the Hospital Wing again. 

Hermione was tightly gripping his hand, her face white with terror, her eyes puffy and bloodshot. Strands of her normally bushy hair clung to her face and lay plastered to her head, rivulets of water streaming from the wet and bedraggled ends straddling her shoulders. She looked like she’d been swimming in the Black Lake fully clothed.

Ron’s face was equally wet and white next to Hermione’s, and Harry noticed that he appeared equally drenched. In fact everyone did. He could see Neville, Parvati, Lavender, and Luna dripping as they jostled for position with the mud-spattered Gryffindor team and his memory began to flood back with a vengeance. 

Lightning had brought into sharp relief the Dementors which had been swarming him as he flew high above the stands looking for the Golden Snitch. They had been playing against Hufflepuff. The wind and rain had been whipping at his quidditch robes when he first felt the sting of hail and the freeze in his bones which indicated the presence of the wraiths.

Now that he remembered, Harry could still hear the screams of his mother which had been echoing in his brain before he fell into darkness. 

_“Not Harry, please! Not Harry... kill me instead! Please... have mercy!”_

He recalled the large black dog which he’d seen below during another flash of lightning, and began to wonder if there was really something to that rubbish about the Grim. Maybe he should have given Divination more of a chance. Another memory of Hermione muttering “impervius” and handing him back his glasses so that he could see the Snitch better in the rain appeared and his brief regret vanished as he decided that he didn’t miss Divination one little bit. 

“What happened?” Harry finally managed to croak. 

“You fell mate,” muttered Fred. “Must’ve been over fifty feet...”

“More like a hundred,” George interjected.

“We... we thought you were dead,” said Alicia Spinnet who was still shaking. Hermione uttered a little squeak and squeezed Harry’s hand even tighter.

“But the match... are we doing a replay?”

“Diggory got the Snitch... after you fell,” said George. “He didn’t see you fall... He _wanted_ to do a rematch...”

“But even Wood thinks Diggory caught the Snitch fair and square,” snorted Fred, who clearly thought not. “He refused to accept the rematch offer and now he’s trying to drown himself in the showers...”

Harry groaned loudly.

“You have nothing to feel guilty about Harry,” said Hermione, a bit shrilly. “It’s thanks to you that Wood has a trophy for last year.”

“She’s right about that,” said Fred. “You’ve never missed the Snitch before. C’mon Harry - cheer up mate - it’s not over yet...”

“Alright then... that’s quite enough!” Madam Pomfrey came bustling over to Harry’s bed waving her arms and speaking very sharply. “It’s time for you lot to leave. Mr Potter needs some peace and quiet. Yes, Mr Weasley - that means you too...”

“But not you dear, of course,” Madam Pomfrey said in much more kindly tone as she put her hand on Hermione’s shoulder and watched everyone else depart the infirmary, trailing mud and water behind them. “Harry does much better with you here...”

Madam Pomfrey tipped a pain potion and a calming draught into Harry’s mouth, and placed several large bars of chocolate on the bedside table before heading back to her office muttering something about dangerous sports and Dementors. A horrible thought occurred to Harry as the potions began to kick in.

“Did anyone get my broom?” he asked. His hopes sank when he saw Hermione look even more dejected than before.

“Oh Harry - I’m so sorry! Your broom...” she said haltingly as tears began to mingle with the rainwater on her face. Harry was more than certain that they weren’t the first tears that Hermione had shed. “When you fell off... it... it blew away... and...” Hermione heaved a sob. 

“...And it hit... it hit the Whomping Willow!” she concluded tearfully as she lifted a bag from the floor and showed him the splintered remains of his Nimbus 2000.

Harry sighed miserably and reached for another vial of calming draught from the bedside table, passing it to Hermione. She peered at him quizzically.

“It’s for you,” he said quietly. “Go on then - I’ve already had a vial. You need it more than I do now... Don’t worry about the Nimbus - It’s only a broomstick. I can order another one if I have to... but you’re the only Hermione I’ve got.”

Hermione’s heart began to race as she melted into Harry’s green gaze, and she swallowed the vial without a second thought before flinging her arms around him.

“Thank you Harry,” she said, as she settled next to him on the hospital-bed, an arm across his chest and her wet bushy head on his shoulder. 

Despite everything that had happened since the Dementor on the Hogwarts Express, Harry felt a warm glow inside himself which had nothing to do with the pain potion, calming draught, or chocolate. He was just happy to have the first chance for a proper cuddle with Hermione since Diagon Alley. 

Harry pressed his lips to Hermione’s wet hair and wiped the tears from her wet face with a linen cloth from his bedside table. Then he kissed Hermione’s now dry cheek before he began to peacefully drift as the tumultuous term so far flickered before his mind’s eye...

**~o0o~**

The first day of lessons had got off to a dismal start. He’d had to endure Malfoy’s impressions of Harry having a fainting fit and the roars of laughter from the Slytherins at breakfast time. Though there was a bit of satisfaction to be had as Ron joined with Hermione in shooting daggers at the Slytherins with their eyes. It had been nice to all be as one again for a short while at least.

But then had come the first Divination lesson. Hermione had appeared breathlessly out of nowhere, startling Ron as they made their way to class. 

“Where’d you come from? The bathroom? You’re almost late,” Ron had said. “And we still have to find the bloody classroom.”

Hermione had blustered a bit as Harry suddenly seemed interested in his shoes and Ron quickly put it out of his head. Eventually, they had received some help finding the classroom from the portrait of a slightly deranged knight named Sir Cadogan. 

The Divination classroom had been stuffy, with purple velvet curtains covering all of the windows, lit with melting candles. The shelves were lined with tea cups and crystal balls; the air thick with a haze of smoke and the pungent spicy smell of burning incense.

Harry had felt a bit dizzy and plonked himself in a chintz armchair at the first little round table he’d seen. Ron and Hermione had sat around the table with him. Lavender and Parvati had taken a little table on one side of them; Seamus, Dean, and Neville had taken the little table on the other side.

A tall thin woman festooned with scarves, beads, necklaces, and charms had entered the class. Her round glasses were bigger and thicker than Harry’s, magnifying her eyes many times. She had reminded Harry a bit of a gaudily dressed praying mantis.

“Welcome children!” the teacher had begun. “My name is Professor Trelawney. How lovely it is to finally meet you in the mundane reality we call the physical world. In this class you will learn to use your inner-eye to see beyond the illusion of this reality to the Great Beyond, and there, together, we shall discover the truth of our inner-selves and our futures...”

Hermione had made an effort not to roll her eyes, but Parvati and Lavender had looked slightly awed. Ron and Seamus had begun chuckling while Dean and Neville looked slightly uncomfortable. Harry had just tried not to fall asleep before class even got properly underway.

The professor had passed around sheets of parchment which contained an overview of the course. The first thing Professor Trelawney had had them do, was mock up a quick planetary chart based on their birthdays.

“Oh,” Harry had heard Lavender say, “My planet is Uranus.”

“Can I see Uranus, Lavender?” Ron had sniggered loudly as Seamus guffawed. 

Lavender had gasped in outrage and Parvati had glared at Ron. Harry and Hermione had both shot Ron reproachful looks as well. Professor Trelawney had snatched up everybody’s parchments, her dreamy expression changing, briefly looking remarkably like Professor McGonagall’s.

“MOVING on...” she had said sharply, “We will begin with the rudiments of reading tea-leaves...”

Everyone had taken a cup of tea and drunk them down until all that was left in their cups were soggy tea-leaves. Hermione, Harry, and Ron had helplessly stared at the bottom of their cups, trying to find some sort of pattern in the sludge.

“I dunno Harry, I think yours is a sheep,” Ron had muttered as Trelawney sidled up to their table.

The Professor had taken one look at Harry’s cup and shrieked, waking up the entire class.

“My... my dear boy, I am so sorry, you have the GRIM!”

“The what?” Harry had asked, bewildered and suddenly concerned.

“The Grim dear... A Black Beast from the Underworld which takes the form of a large Canine! It is a Dark Omen of Doom. Death stalks you Mr Potter and I am afraid you are not long for this world...”

“ _ **I**_ don’t think it looks like a Grim,” Hermione had said flatly, her nostrils flaring as she stared coldly at the professor. “And _**everyone**_ knows that Harry has deadly enemies.”

Professor Trelawney had regarded Hermione with increasing dislike.

“You’ll forgive me for saying so, _dear_ , but I perceive very little aura around you. Clearly you lack the necessary receptivity to pick up the subtle resonances of the future.” 

Harry’s cheeks had burned, and his face had darkened in fury. Not even twenty four hours had passed since he’d had to deal with a hideous dark creature which had dredged up memories of his mother being killed. And Harry had hardly needed a reminder that an escaped mass-murderer was hunting him down. 

It was bad enough that he actually had to face death without someone pretending it was some great riddle which could only be divined through mystical means. And to top everything off, Trelawney had belittled Hermione in front of the entire class after Hermione had simply stated known facts.

The rest of the students in the class had shuffled uncomfortably in their seats, and even Ron had avoided Harry’s eyes. Harry stood up suddenly, and instead of addressing the shocked Professor directly he had turned towards Hermione.

“Hermione, I reckon you were right. This class looks like rubbish. I’m going to see if I can still switch to Arithmancy.” Harry had angrily flung open the hatch-door to the ladder, and left the classroom. 

Hermione had been stunned. The last thing in the world she had expected was that Harry might actually want to switch to Arithmancy. She had swallowed nervously and glanced around at the gaping flabbergasted expressions on everyone’s faces, not sure what to do. Hermione had never before considered dropping a class - not even one which she thought might be ridiculous. But Harry was already gone, and that had decided her.

Picking up her things, Hermione had quickly run after Harry.

“Harry,” she had hissed under her breath when she caught up with him. “You know I’ve already been to Arithmancy today don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Harry had muttered. “But I didn’t want to give away your secret - and I just had to get the hell out of there. I’m really going to need your help in Arithmancy Hermione. I’m dreadful at maths.”

“Of course I’ll help you Harry!”

Professor McGonagall had noticed the tension in her classroom when everyone had been too distracted to pay much attention to her transforming into a cat before their very eyes. 

When Harry told McGonagall what had happened, he had been very relieved that he wasn’t going to get into trouble for storming out of Trelawney’s class. Professor McGonagall had expressed her own distaste for the “imprecise discipline" of Divination and regaled her students with the fact that Professor Trelawney was very fond of making dubious death prophecies. 

“I quite understand, Potter,” Professor McGonagall had said to Harry after class. “And knowing what an industrious student you are, I shall speak to Professor Vector on your behalf and explain the situation. But I am certain that with Miss Granger’s help, we can eventually bring you up to snuff in Arithmancy.” 

Harry had been very glad for McGonagall’s support, because Ron had been moody at lunchtime again. 

“What’d you have to ditch Divination for?” Ron had asked crossly.

“You’re _**joking**_ right?” Harry had responded. “You saw what Trelawney was like...”

“Cheer up Ron,” Hermione had said calmly. “You heard what McGonagall told us.”

“You _**haven’t**_ seen a big black dog have you, Harry?” Ron had said in a worried voice.

“Yeah... I have actually,” Harry had replied. “But so what...?”

“I’m sure it was just a stray...” Hermione had added.

“But that’s really bad... Grim’s are serious business. My Uncle Bilius saw one and died 24 hours later.”

“That’s just coincidence Ron,” Hermione had tried to say reasonably as she poured herself some tea.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Ron had started getting really angry. “Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!”

“Well we’re really lucky that Harry isn’t as stupid as most wizards then, aren’t we?” Hermione had snapped, finally having had enough. “Instead of seeing a big black dog and thinking ‘right, well I might as well kick the bucket then,’ Harry’s actually brave enough to soldier on and keep trying to live - never mind that he’s faced Voldemort three times, a big bloody snake, a horrid Dementor... and let’s not forget that now he’s got a horrible maniac after him...”

“ _ **Honestly!**_ What’s Harry supposed to do? It doesn’t make any difference whether he saw a stupid Grim or not. Or are you saying that Harry should just give up and die just because he saw a big black dog?” 

“Professor Trelawney said you didn’t have the right aura. You just don’t like not being good at something!” Ron had snarled.

Hermione had glared at Ron and snatched up her book bag, storming away.

“Bloody Hell Ron! This has nothing to do with Hermione,” Harry had fumed. “It’s _**obvious**_ that Trelawney is a right old fraud. _**Everybody**_ already knows that ‘death is stalking me’...”

“Fine, take Hermione’s side... just like you always do!” Ron had said bitterly. 

And the day hadn’t improved much after lunch. The first lesson had been their first-ever Care of Magical Creatures class, and they had all marched down the hill to the edge of the Forbidden Forest in silence, only to discover that they were taking the class with the Slytherins.

Hagrid had introduced everyone to some really interesting creatures called Hippogriffs, half-giant eagle, half horse. Harry had actually enjoyed himself briefly flying around on the fascinating and beautiful animal. But then Draco Malfoy had deliberately insulted the creature and it had slashed at his arm with its steely talons.

The only good thing that had come out of the lesson was that by the end of the day, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were all friends again as they all felt badly that Malfoy had ruined Hagrid’s first day as professor.

Malfoy had milked his injury for all it was worth - even though Madam Pomfrey had healed it almost instantly. Though things perhaps hadn’t gone quite as well as Malfoy had planned when he had finally wandered into potions halfway through class on Thursday morning.

“Sir,” Malfoy had called out to Professor Snape, “I’ll need some help cutting up these daisy roots, and I’ll need my shrivelfig skinned... because of my arm.”

“Crabbe, cut up Malfoy’s daisy roots for him, Goyle you can skin Malfoy’s shrivelfig!” Snape had said without looking up.

“Wait... _**what?**_ ” Malfoy had sputtered, “But... sir...”

“Or you can do it yourself if you’re feeling better...” Snape had retorted.

“Er... no... thank you sir! Crabbe, Goyle, you heard him!” Draco had snapped, shooting the Gryffindors a malicious look as they all chortled, knowing that he’d hoped that Snape would make some of them do Malfoy’s work for him. 

Neville had actually managed a passing mark on his potion for once. 

Harry and Hermione had both been disappointed that Thursday afternoon during the first DADA class of the term. Lupin had been giving a practical lesson in dealing with Boggarts, and ended the class before either of them had had a chance to perform the Boggart banishing spell. 

“I wonder why Lupin wouldn’t let us have a go?” Harry had said.

“I’m not sure Harry,” Hermione had responded after giving it some thought. “Maybe he thought ours might be Voldemort or the Dementors... and that they might have frightened everyone a bit _**too**_ much.” 

“Oh, I suppose that makes sense - still, I hope that doesn’t mean he thinks that we’re too feeble!” Harry had concluded with a frown. 

Harry had managed far better than he’d hoped to in Ancient Runes as the weeks went by. Professor Babbling had been quite impressed with his calligraphy, and he’d been much better at working out the translations than he had thought he would be.

Hermione had the edge in translating, but Harry’s skill with a calligraphy brush had put him in the same ranking. And one day, Harry had been extremely surprised to receive better marks than Hermione on one of his papers.

“Harry, that’s _**beautiful!**_ ” Hermione had said admiringly. “I had no idea you could draw or do calligraphy.”

“Me neither,” Harry had responded, amazed with himself, “The Dursleys never got any art or calligraphy materials for Dudley, so I never really got a chance to try anything like this before.”

“See here Miss Granger - the boldness of Mr Potter’s linework - and yet he instinctively knows when to add a subtle touch. Any Runes he draws or paints will be that much more potent for his artistry!” Professor Babbling had gushed, thrilled with her new prize pupils.

But Harry had done just about as poorly as he had imagined he would in Arithmancy. Though Professor Vector was being as patient as her rather strict nature would allow after Professor McGonagall had explained Harry’s situation to her.

Hermione had found a spare Fourth Year Charms book, and to Ron’s dismay, much of Harry’s free time was taken up the first few weeks of the term practicing Summoning Charms with Hermione. Harry had offered Ron a chance to join them, but it seemed too much like homework to Ron and he had declined. By the end of the third week, Harry and Hermione had managed to perform the Summoning Charm perfectly. As the weeks had progressed, Defence classes had moved on to Red Caps and Kappas. 

When October had begun, Oliver Wood had become more obsessive about Quidditch practice, and Harry once again had been forced to remind him that his studies came first. Soon, everyone in Third Year had been talking about the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend.

“I wish you’d come too Harry!” Ron had grumped when he remembered that Harry didn’t want to leave Hermione behind because her parents hadn’t signed her form for some unknown reason that Hermione wouldn’t discuss. “Maybe McGonagall would let Hermione go just this once...”

“She won’t - I already asked her...” Harry had sighed.

“You did?” Hermione had squeaked, half-pleased and half-concerned. “That was really sweet of you. But I thought we’d already discussed - you know - Sirius Black!”

“Yeah, I just thought... well, he hasn’t been seen for a bit, and it would be nice to have a look around the town,” Harry had replied. “I know you’ve really been dying to see it yourself.”

Hermione had flushed in embarrassment at being so transparent, and Crookshanks had jumped up on her lap.

“Oi, watch that cat... Scabbers is asleep in my bag!” Ron had said warningly.

Crookshanks had seemed to take Ron’s warning as an invitation, because the next thing Harry remembered was a furious row after Crookshanks had pounced on Ron’s bag. Ron had had a shouting match with Hermione in front of the whole Common Room and stormed off to bed after rescuing Scabbers. Hermione had been left on the verge of tears by the whole affair and Harry had tried to comfort her.

“ _ **I**_ don’t think it’s Crookshanks fault! There’s something weird about that Rat, Hermione,” Harry had muttered darkly after Ron left. “It shouldn’t even still be alive according to the pet-shop owner in Diagon Alley. And Crookshanks gets along with everyone else’s pets just fine - it’s only Scabbers he wants to get - and the shop owner said that Crookshanks is a good judge of character.”

But Hermione had still tried to apologise the next day during Herbology, and Ron had angrily refused to accept. 

Finally Halloween had arrived and Ron had ended up going into Hogsmeade with Seamus and Dean. At the last minute Hermione had felt really guilty about holding Harry back and tried to make him go too.

“No,” Harry had been adamant on the way back to the Common Room. “I said I wasn’t going anywhere without you, and I meant it Hermione....” 

“Er... let’s go to the library and study,” Harry had continued, spying the over-eager Creevey brothers in the Common Room. 

They had been wandering through the drafty corridors of the castle trying to avoid Filch on the way to the library, and a voice had called out to them.

“What are you two doing here?” Lupin had asked in surprise.

“Hermione can’t go to Hogsmeade,” Harry had answered matter-of-factly as she reddened and cast her eyes down.

“Ah - well why don’t you two join me!? I’ve just taken delivery of a Grindylow...”

“That’s a type of water-demon isn’t it?” Hermione’s eyes had lit up as Lupin nodded.

They had all had a good look at the ugly teal horned creature as Lupin told them all about it. Afterwards, they had all had a cup of tea together and Lupin sensed that something was bothering them both.

“Anything worrying you then?” the professor had asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes,” Harry had said, but Hermione said, “No,” simultaneously, thinking that had been what Harry was going to say. They had peered at each other and reversed their answers 

“No,” Harry then said as Hermione said “Yes.” Lupin had grinned at the pair of them.

“Okay... spill! What’s up?” Lupin inquired.

“Alright...” Harry had begun, taking a deep breath as Hermione squeezed his hand comfortingly. “Why didn’t you let us fight the Boggart?

“Ah... I should have thought that was obvious.” Lupin had responded. “I expected it would assume the shape of Voldemort when you got to it Harry, and I wished to avoid a panic.”

“That’s what Hermione said you might have thought,” Harry had told Professor Lupin. “But honestly, I wasn’t really thinking about him - not directly anyway...” Harry had swallowed, afraid that Lupin would think him a coward, and revealed the truth. “I... I was thinking about that Dementor.”

“I see,” Lupin had looked at Harry thoughtfully, reading between the lines, and nodded. “Well, that would have been equally problematic in terms of causing a panic. But that is very wise indeed Harry - it suggests that what you fear most, is fear itself. However, I do not think you need worry. From what I know of you, you show more courage than anyone has a right to expect...” 

“You tackle the things that you fear head on... You are no coward Harry. And I daresay you are equally courageous Miss Granger,” Lupin concluded, causing Hermione to blush and smile shyly.

Snape had entered Lupin’s office with a goblet full of some sort of steaming potion for whatever was ailing Lupin, arching an eyebrow inscrutably at Harry and Hermione as Lupin drank it. Harry had almost grinned at Snape, nearly feeling brave enough to ask the potions master why he hadn’t been treating him and Hermione so horribly since First Year.

Though he had still been quite strict, Snape had even started treating some of the other Gryffindors a bit better Harry had noticed - like Neville. Though Ron and Seamus had still frequently found themselves under fire. 

After visiting with Lupin, Harry and Hermione had strolled through the peaceful grounds of Hogwarts and come across Luna, playing barefoot near the Forbidden Forest by herself, and spent the rest of the afternoon with her.

At the end of the afternoon, Ron had arrived in the Common Room with Seamus and Dean and armfuls of goodies, beaming happily. Ron tipped a bag of sweets onto one of the Common Room tables. 

“Help yourself,” he had said to Harry and Hermione with a grin. It had felt good, all three of them being friends again during the Halloween feast. 

Not even Malfoy shouting through the crowd, “The Dementors send their love, Potter!” could put a dent in Harry’s mood. He had almost thought that nothing dreadful would happen on Halloween for a change.

But of course, something terrible had happened while everyone had been at the feast. The Gryffindors had all been crowding around the portrait of the Fat Lady by the time Harry had arrived after the feast’s conclusion with Hermione and Ron; Parvati, Lavender, and Neville trailing behind them. 

“What’s going on?” Harry had asked just as Dumbledore appeared.

“Oh my...!” Hermione had grabbed Harry’s arm, squealing when she saw the frightful occurrence. 

The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, and long ribbons of tattered canvas hung down down to the floor from the gaping rips and gashes in the painting. Peeves had hovered nearby cackling gleefully.

“Nasty temper that one has, Sirius Black!” Peeves had chortled.

All of the students had spent Halloween night in sleeping bags in the Great Hall while the professors searched the castle from top to bottom for the escaped mass-murdering maniac, but to no avail. 

The weeks that followed had been anxious ones for everyone as the first match of the Quidditch Season had approached, and Harry spent most of his time studying diligently with Hermione or practicing with the team. Ron had seemed resigned to things, and had been spending more and more time with Seamus and Dean.

And then today had arrived, wet and stormy - the day of the match which was supposed to be against Slytherin. But Slytherin had canceled due to Malfoy pretending that his arm was still bothering him, and Gryffindor had played Hufflepuff in the thunder and the lightning, and the wind and the rain, instead. 

Harry recalled the freezing fear when he had realised a hundred Dementors were swarming around him again in the storming sky and his eyelids fluttered open. 

Harry felt Hermione’s gentle breathing and relaxed again. Hermione was fast asleep in the hospital bed, her arm still lying across Harry’s chest, head on his shoulder, her now dry and frizzy hair tickling him under his chin. Harry grinned as he felt a surge of happiness he’d not felt this strongly since their nights together in Diagon Alley.

Harry almost thanked the Dementors. He’d face a hundred of them again if that was what it took to spend his nights cuddling Hermione.


	10. A Light in the Dark: Part 1

Madam Bones performed a reparo charm on her shattered monocle, and picked it up off the stone floor of her austerely decorated office where it had fallen. She adjusted it and tried to compose herself before responding to Dumbledore. 

“Good Heavens! You can’t be serious Albus! Dementors... attacking Mr Potter?”

“All too serious, I am afraid,” sighed the Headmaster of Hogwarts, looking very grave. “And this would be the second such attempt if Professor Lupin is to be believed... and I trust Remus completely.” 

“This simply cannot stand Amelia. Hogwarts must remain out of bounds to the Dementors! They are not welcome on the grounds as long as I am Headmaster, under any circumstances whatsoever! And if I had any say in it, they would be removed from the search for Sirius Black altogether...”

“Well... you are correct of course regarding the stationing of the Dementors,” interjected Madam Bones stiffly. “I shall order them explicitly to stay off Hogwarts grounds. It simply will not do to have them accosting students. But after the recent incident with Black in the castle itself, I cannot in good conscience call them off the hunt altogether... Surely you can understand, given the danger that Black presents to the public.” 

“I daresay that given the apparent main target - Harry Potter himself - the Dementors may present an even bigger danger than Black.” Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and peered at Madam Bones with his crystal blue eyes until she swallowed uncomfortably. 

“Yes... I quite see your point,” Madam Bones said finally. “Unfortunately, the politics of the situation makes it a near impossibility for me to pull the Dementors off the case altogether. The Wizengamot would have my head, and Fudge’s too if I were to do so, and that will do nobody any good. You of all people should know that.”

Dumbledore sighed again, then he nodded. “That is very likely true. As Chief Warlock, I cannot force the Wizengamot to do my bidding, but merely offer them my counsel and guidance. People are frightened, and when that is so, they often make rash decisions. Very well... as long as it is clear to the Dementors that Hogwarts is out of bounds to them, I shall make do.”

“Thank you for understanding Albus... Just one last thing, do you have any inkling why the Dementors might be singling out Mr Potter?”

“I have my suspicions Amelia, but without any evidence, I hesitate to make them known.”

As Madam Bones regarded the Headmaster’s countenance shrewdly, she paled, understanding all too well his insinuation. 

“I see...” Amelia Bones’ features softened slightly. “I will look into it then. I cannot promise anything of course - unless I have some actionable evidence, I cannot open an official investigation.”

“Thank you Amelia,” replied Dumbledore, a twinkle returning to his eyes. “That is all that I can ask under the current circumstances.”

**~o0o~**

Harry stayed in the Hospital Wing for the rest of the weekend following the Dementor attack and the fall from his broom. He didn’t mind in the least - as long as Hermione was allowed to keep him company at night.

During the day on Sunday, Harry had a number of visitors, all intent on cheering him up. But Harry found himself growing more anxious and restless as the day wore on. Oliver Wood was among the first of his visitors, showing up in the morning when the entire Quidditch team arrived again.

“I don’t blame you in the slightest Potter,” Wood told him with a vaguely haunted look in his eyes. 

“Of course he doesn’t,” Fred muttered quietly to George, rolling his own eyes. “Gryffindors don’t ask for rematches...” he snorted. Wood unfortunately overheard and shot Fred a glare.

Ron appeared a short time later to hang out with Harry and Hermione. Parvati and Lavender dropped by with some flowers, then Ginny and Neville wandered in with get-well cards for Harry. After that, Hagrid stopped in with some of his homemade rock-cakes. Luna brought Harry some reading material: a copy of her father’s monthly publication, _The Quibbler_. 

Hermione raised her eyebrows slightly when she glanced at some of the odd articles, but as she and Harry had become good friends with Luna, Hermione tried her utmost to hide her skepticism. 

“Oh, this looks very... interesting!” Hermione said a bit too brightly as Ron peered over her shoulder and chortled.

“It’s alright Hermione,” said Luna with a knowing little smile. “I know that some of the things are a bit unusual. Thank you for not making fun of me and Daddy for believing them.”

“I’m sorry Luna!” Hermione turned beet-red and hugged the younger girl. Harry grinned, feeling his anxiety briefly lift.

“ _ **Barking**_ mad!” Ron sniggered, shaking his head after Luna left the Hospital Wing. “The mating habits of Blibbering Humdingers? The Rotfang Conspiracy Exposed? _Really?_ Who believes this rubbish?” he snorted.

Harry and Hermione both raised their eyebrows and peered at Ron pointedly. Ron quieted and his ears turned pink, remembering the row over the Grim. 

“Yeah... er... I just remembered... gotsomehomeworkt’do...” Ron mumbled. “Gotta go... Sorry about your broom Harry!” said Ron as he hastily departed.

“It is a bit weird though...” Harry murmured after Ron left. “Seeing a Black Dog after I ran away from the Dursleys - almost getting run over by the Knight Bus - and seeing one again on the Quidditch Field just before the Dementors swarmed me. I hope I’m not cracking up Hermione.”

“Of _**course**_ you’re not Harry!” said Hermione quickly, giving Harry a hug. “I admit, it’s a very odd coincidence, but you’ve faced _**lots**_ of life-threatening things without seeing _**any**_ big black dogs before.”

“That’s true! Thanks for reminding me, Hermione!” Harry nodded, feeling much better on that score with Hermione’s arms around him. It was more peaceful in the ward now that everyone had gone, and he began to relax. 

Now all Harry had to worry about was avoiding Sirius Black, and how to deal with the Dementors, before they really did manage to kill him. Harry was still sad about his Nimbus 2000, but he could always buy another one. And at least Harry had another night of cuddling Hermione in the hospital wing to look forward to after they finished their essays on werewolves.

**~o0o~**

Things were back to normal on Monday. Malfoy was his usual obnoxious self, chortling gleefully while miming Harry falling off a broom and performing Dementor impressions throughout the entire period during Potions. Of course Snape ignored Malfoy’s behaviour as always.

Harry rolled his eyes and focused on his work with Hermione. He would have loved to issue a sharp retort at Malfoy, but he was unwilling to spoil things in Potions with Snape. Harry could put up with Malfoy getting away with his childish taunts as long as Snape continued to let Harry and Hermione do their work in peace. 

In the end, Harry still got his revenge. He turned in yet another perfect potion, and Malfoy was furious when his own potion received a slightly lesser mark than Harry’s - which was actually far more than Malfoy had deserved as he’d wasted so much time during class that his own potion was curdling. Hermione shared a smirk with Harry as Malfoy stormed out at the end of class.

Ron was much less fortunate. He’d managed to earn the wrath of Snape and lost 50 points for flinging a crocodile heart at Malfoy, after Malfoy had taunted him about being too poor to afford a broomstick of his own. 

“Bet you wish you actually _**had**_ a broom to take a dive from, Weasleby,” Malfoy had sneered maliciously. “I suppose you might be able to afford a few flying twigs if your father sold that pathetic hovel you live in.” 

“Bloody git!” Ron fumed as he made his way to Defence Against the Dark Arts with Harry and Hermione after lunch. “Malfoy gets away with _**everything!**_ ”

“You need to pick your battles more carefully Ron!” Harry sighed. “You _**know**_ Snape usually favours the Slytherins and Malfoy. You can’t win a fight with Malfoy in Potions.”

“Yeah, well _**you**_ seem to be doing alright!” Ron muttered. “Snape hasn’t given you such a hard time since First Year!”

“That’s because Harry works really hard in class Ron,” said Hermione in a slightly haughty tone. “Snape still favours Malfoy though. Malfoy’s potion was dreadful today, but he still got a top mark. The only reason Harry’s mark was better than Malfoy’s, is because Harry made better use of his time.”

“I suppose!” Ron snorted. “But if Snape’s still covering for Lupin in Defence, I’m skiving off. Check who’s in there Harry.”

“It’s alright,” said Harry after poking his head through the door. “Lupin’s back.”

Professor Lupin rubbed his forehead and smiled wryly when most of the students in his Third Year class complained bitterly about Snape having taken over Defence Against the Dark Arts while he’d been ill on Friday. Usually other professors covered for Lupin on his sick-days. He rolled his eyes when he saw the homework which Snape had assigned. 

“It’s alright,” said Lupin. “You don’t have to turn in your werewolf essays...” 

The class cheered except for Harry and Hermione who had their parchments in hand, ready to turn in.

“...unless you’ve finished it of course!” concluded Lupin with a grin. “I’d say that’s worth 25 points apiece for Gryffindor. Well done you two!”

“Well that’s lucky!” Ron whispered to Harry. “At least you both saved the points I lost in Potions this morning.”

When the bell rang at the end of class, as the rest of the students headed for the door, Lupin beckoned Harry and Hermione. 

“Hang on a bit Harry - you as well Hermione. I’d like a word with you both please!” 

They both peered at the greying Professor expectantly, and when the room was finally empty he cleared his throat. 

“Harry... Dumbledore and I had a chat yesterday about the situation with the Dementors,” Lupin began, a worried expression on his face, “There is a defence against them - a very advanced charm which is generally not taught in Hogwarts, as it is beyond NEWT levels...” 

“Very few wizards actually bother to learn it unless they are training for a job in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement - though there are exceptions. In any case, Dumbledore wants me to train you how to perform the charm Harry.”

Harry and Hermione’s eyes had both got bigger as Professor Lupin talked, and Harry felt a surge of hope.

“What about Hermione?” asked Harry eagerly.

“Indeed!” Professor Lupin nodded. “I mentioned to Dumbledore that Hermione had also been overcome by the effects of the Dementors on the train. And as you are both so frequently together, we agreed that Hermione should learn the spell as well.”

“Really?” gasped Hermione, quivering with excitement. 

“Yes... really!” Lupin’s prematurely aging features crinkled as he smiled at his two enthusiastic pupils.

“Oh thank you Professor Lupin!” Hermione squeaked.

“That’s brilliant!” exclaimed Harry. “When do we start?”

“How about Thursdays!” answered Professor Lupin “There’s two of you, so we should start early enough to give you both time... say after dinner at 7 pm in the History of Magic classroom.”

**~o0o~**

The cold soggy weather continued, but the thrill of the anti-dementor lessons buoyed Harry and Hermione through the next few weeks. Ron was in better spirits as well, by and large. The biggest damper on Harry’s mood - besides the looming threat of Sirius Black, and Harry's own occasional vengeful urge to break his promises about hunting his parents' betrayer - was the fact that the Nimbus 2000 was out of stock, and no longer being produced.

“Just get the Nimbus 2001,” said Oliver Wood when Harry had given him the bad news on Thursday afternoon.

“Are you joking? I’m not getting anything that Malfoy has!” Harry retorted vehemently. 

“Well, you’ll need something...” Wood responded anxiously “Don’t wait too long Potter! Our next match is the second Saturday of February. And I hope you have a plan for if those Dementors show up again.”

“Don’t worry Wood! That's over two and half months away,” said Harry, rolling his eyes. 

But the fact was that Harry was quite worried himself, as the school broom he was currently riding, a Shooting Star, was slow and jerky, and pulled to the left. Wood sighed and handed Harry a catalogue of available brooms.

“You should get a Firebolt Harry,” said Ron, when Harry showed him the catalogue. 

Harry just snorted glumly in response. He knew that the Firebolt would put a serious dent in his vault at Gringotts. But Harry brightened considerably when he and Hermione left for their lesson with Professor Lupin after dinner. 

“Lupin still looks a bit peaky to me,” Ron murmured when he peered at the gaunt professor in the hallway. 

Harry shuffled uncomfortably and glanced at Hermione, wondering if he should tell Ron what they suspected. Hermione’s eyes widened and she shook her bushy head.

“Right, well see you two later then,” said Ron.

Harry was nervous as he waited with Hermione in the History of Magic classroom for Lupin to arrive. 

“This is supposed to be really hard Hermione. What if it’s something like Arithmancy and I’m pathetic at it?”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine Harry,” Hermione responded confidently, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You’re smart, and you’re a hard-worker.”

Harry detected Hermione’s familiar minty scent when her lips touched his cheek, and he relaxed in her warm embrace. They fell apart with reddening faces when Lupin entered the classroom and set a large wooden chest on Professor Binns’ desk.

“What’s in the chest Professor?” asked Hermione.

“It’s not a necessity to have a Dementor to show you what I’m about to teach you - but it’s helpful. But I’m hardly going to bring one into the castle, so I found a Boggart instead,” said Lupin. “When it sees Harry, it should become a Dementor and exhibit similar effects.” 

“Oh!” said Harry, swallowing anxiously, not sure whether or not he was pleased that Lupin had found a good substitute for a Dementor.

“Now, it is often believed that Dementors feed on happiness because they appear to suck the joy out of a room, but in fact, nearly the opposite is closer to the case. It is true, they _**do**_ drain away happiness and joy - which they can only abide in small quantities - but they also _**stimulate**_ one’s darkest fears and despairs - they foster the repetitious recollection of one's Worst Memories until there is no room left for any good ones. It is _**those**_ emotions - the dark ones - which they prefer to feed on,” Lupin continued. 

“Dementors thrive on human misery. Wizards who are in their presence long enough are thus driven mad, and lose their will to live - effectively depriving a wizard of their powers, as Will and Intent are the most important ingredients for directing magic. That is why a powerful enough Patronus Charm - which is the very embodiment of joy and happiness - acts not merely as a passive shield, but will actively repel Dementors.”

“Can they be killed?” asked Harry hopefully.

“Not to my knowledge,” said Lupin. “And they are not living creatures in a technical sense - they are defined as Non-Beings by the Ministry, and there is no evidence that any wizard has ever developed a means of destroying them...” 

“In any case, the most final power of a Dementor is known as the ‘Dementor’s Kiss’... which is the act of sucking out a human soul, leaving one’s body a mere shell - which is surely a fate worse than death. Generally speaking, they are bidden by Law to only perform the ‘Kiss’ as an act of punishment...” 

Hermione gasped in horror. Harry felt a flare of anger as he thought about what Sirius Black had done to his parents, for the umpteenth time having second thoughts about his promises to everyone to not go hunting for Black. It sounded terrible, even in his own head, but Harry thought that if anyone deserved the Dementor’s Kiss, it was Black. But something niggled at Harry’s mind; something still didn’t quite add up.

“How did Sirius Black escape from Azkaban then?” Harry asked with a frown. 

“That is the million galleon question,” Lupin replied with a shake of his greying head. “That has yet to be determined. Now, unless there are any more questions, we should begin.” 

Seeing that his pupils appeared more than ready, Lupin nodded and began the instruction, “Now... remember, the incantation is Expecto Patronum. And you shall need to concentrate very hard on the happiest memories that you have to fuel the Patronus Charm.”

Harry’s first thought was of his first time experiencing the exhilarating sensation of riding a broomstick, but that somehow didn’t seem good enough. Harry’s second thought was of the day that Hagrid had told him he was a wizard. 

But an unbidden memory insistently overwhelmed all the others. Harry remembered the weeks spent in Diagon Alley during the summer with Hermione, the smiles on her face, and one memory in particular stood out. 

The memory was as vivid as if he were still experiencing it. He could still see a fat and fluffy orange cat curled around a large snowy white owl on top of a highly polished oak wardrobe, basking in the silvery moonlight pouring through an open window. Harry could still feel Hermione’s arm curled around his waist, the sensation of her gentle breath against the back of his neck, smell the minty aroma of her toothpaste; he could still sense her beating heart next to him as she slumbered...

Professor Lupin raised his eyebrows and Harry nodded. The hinges creaked as Lupin slowly opened the lid of the wooden chest, and a billowing dark wraith emerged. The air froze and the darkness began to close in around Harry... but the screaming seemed muted - more distant as Harry kept his best memory in his mind.

“Expecto Patronum,” Harry incanted.

Lupin gasped in astonishment when a bright pulse of silvery white light jetted from Harry’s wand, halting the advance of the Boggart-Dementor. Harry was just as stunned as Lupin, not knowing what to expect. Though he had been cold at first, Harry hadn't felt the deep chill in his bones which he had been preparing for, only the warmth of a loving embrace as he held off the imitation dark wraith with his glowing shield of light.

After a few moments Lupin stepped in front of the Boggart. It turned into a full moon and Lupin banished it back into the chest.

“Did I do it right?” asked Harry, feeling a small clutch of anxiety. “I... I thought it would be worse...”

“I must confess Harry - so did I!” Lupin admitted ruefully. “That is a remarkable Patronus for a first attempt at your age. And given your... circumstances... I wasn’t certain if you would be able to produce anything at all your first time.”

Hermione shivered in nervous anticipation as she watched Harry practice several more times. The echoes of banging and shouting in her mind began to sound more muffled as she felt the icy bite in the air diminish every time Harry’s Patronus shield emerged from his wand, each pulse brighter than the last. She was thrilled that Harry was doing so well, and kept the memory she had chosen at the forefront of her mind ready for her own turn.

“Well done!” said Lupin as he passed the grinning Harry a chocolate frog. “I’m not sure that you really need this, but Madam Pomfrey will have my hide if you don’t eat it.” Lupin turned to face Hermione.

“How about you Hermione? Are you ready?” When she nodded uncertainly, Lupin smiled and spoke again. 

“Alright then, just give it your best. I’m going to release the Boggart in front of Harry again, because it will likely only become a Dementor for him. But aim your wand at it, and if you manage to produce a Patronus, it will still work.” 

Lupin opened the chest again and Hermione gulped when she felt the glacial atmosphere cause goosebumps on her skin to rise. Hermione wasn’t sure that she had chosen the right memory, as it was from the night following the day of her Worst Memory, while she had still been feeling awful. The weeks which had come after that night had surely been some of her happiest... 

But all Hermione knew, was that at the lowest moment in her young life, she had never felt happier than when Harry had held her in his arms and said that he loved her.

With careful resolve, Hermione enunciated the incantation flawlessly, “Expecto Patronum.” 

And for the second time in one night, Professor Lupin witnessed yet another unexpectedly bright first-time-ever Patronus shield.

**~o0o~**

The weeks passed as autumn drew closer to winter, and the first snow lay on the ground two weeks before the end of term. A Christmassy spirit had already entered the castle. Harry and Hermione were both as delighted as Parvati and Lavender when they discovered that Professor Flitwick had decorated his classroom with real live shimmering fairies, who seemed to love nothing better than to preen themselves and show-off for wizards as they flitted to and fro.

Luna was thrilled when Hermione proved very receptive to Mr Lovegood’s articles about fairies - which turned out to be much more informative than the sketchy information in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_.

Even Professor Vector uncharacteristically lightened up a bit, much to Harry’s relief. Harry was still struggling badly in Arithmancy, but at least he was managing to pull passing marks on more and more of his assignments thanks to Hermione’s tutoring. And at least he didn’t have to endure Trelawney’s continued predictions that Harry would meet an untimely death, which Neville and Ron informed him were a nearly daily occurrence in Divination. 

“Harry’s not even in her class anymore!” Hermione snapped angrily when Ron filled them in on the details. “Why won’t she just let Harry alone?”

“Er... dunno really,” said Ron, trying to avoid Hermione’s glare. Everything was going alright at the moment and he was enjoying the game of wizard chess which he was playing with Harry. 

Patronus lessons were going well for Harry and Hermione, and Lupin determined that they were as proficient as most adult wizards. But Harry was resolved to keep practicing until he could perform a Corporeal Patronus, and Hermione was equally resolute. 

Finally the time came for students to decide whether to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas or go home for the holidays. Ron had already decided to stay on for Christmas. Harry didn’t want to upset Hermione, but he knew she missed her parents.

The snow crunched underfoot as Harry walked arm in arm with Hermione through the sparkling white grounds by the ice covered edges of the lake. Their frosty breath lingered in the air and icicles hung from the branches of trees, glittering in the wintry sun.

“I’m afraid Harry,” Hermione confessed after Harry tentatively broached the subject. “I don’t want to give my father another chance to keep me away from y... Hogwarts! You don’t _**want**_ me to leave do you?” she suddenly asked, peering at Harry anxiously.

“NO!” said Harry, a bit more forcefully than he had intended. “Of _**course**_ not! If you left...” Harry swallowed, not sure what he was trying to say. He started again. 

“I... I just... I know what it’s like to not have proper parents Hermione. I don’t want you to lose yours... They _**must**_ miss you too!”

“I suppose so,” Hermione muttered, casting her eyes down so that Harry couldn’t see her flash of anger. 

A sudden horrible thought occurred to Harry, though he couldn’t really imagine that it was true.

“Hermione... do your parents... do they that know you’re here?” Harry asked. Hermione’s hurt look told him how much the question stung. “I... I just had to ask! I’m sorry Hermione... I’m not trying to imply anything - _**really!**_ ” 

Hermione’s features softened. She knew that Harry hadn’t really meant anything by it.

“No... _**I’m**_ sorry! You’re right Harry - it’s a fair question. But _**yes**_ , I left them a note telling them exactly where I was going.” Hermione suddenly looked cross again. 

“They _**know**_ that wizards monitor the post for letters from muggle parents to Hogwarts - I made certain of it. And I haven’t received any letters from them... not _**one!**_ ” she finished shrilly, her bottom lip quivering as tears glistened in her lashes.

“Maybe...” Harry’s voice croaked and he wrapped Hermione in his arms, giving her a kiss on her forehead as the tears began trickling down her cheeks. 

“Maybe you should write to them - at least to your mum - let her know that you’re alright,” he said gently. “You can send Hedwig.”

Hermione held onto Harry tightly in silence for a few minutes, except for the muted sniffles as she buried her face in his winter-coat. Finally she looked up at Harry and nodded.

“Alright! You’re right Harry! I’m being silly... I shouldn’t let my pride get the better of me.”

They strolled back up the hill to the castle and Hermione wrote a letter to her parents once they reached the Gryffindor Common Room. An hour later they made their way to the Owlery. Hermione was feeling much better already.

“Thank you for making me do this Harry!” she said, giving him a shy little smile. Then her eyes caught a flash of orange amidst the sea of Owls. “Oh... there you are Crookshanks! I wondered where you’d got to.”

Harry grinned at the owl and the cat. Crookshanks jumped down from the ledge upon which he and Hedwig had been sitting and curled around Hermione’s legs, purring while she tied the letter to the snowy owl’s talon. Crookshanks uttered a mournful little meow and waved his bushy ginger tail as he watched Hedwig fly off. Hermione bent down to pick him up and carried him all the way back to the Common Room.

**~o0o~**

Almost a week had gone by while Hermione waited for Hedwig to return with a reply, and everyone was talking about the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend on the last weekend of the term.

“I don’t suppose I can talk you into going too Harry?” said Ron, peering apologetically at Hermione. “It’s the last chance to buy a few presents before Christmas.” 

“You should go Harry,” said Hermione, trying very hard not to look envious. “Black seems to have gone back into hiding for the time-being.”

“No! Not without you Hermione!” Harry said flatly. 

“Alright then!” Ron sighed. “Just thought I’d ask. Neville and I are going with Seamus and Dean.”

George glanced at Fred and they had an animated conversation in whispers. There was a tapping sound at one of the common room windows. Parvati opened the window for the white snowy owl and it flapped across the room, lighting upon Hermione’s knee.

Breathlessly, eyes wide, Hermione took the return letter from Hedwig’s ankle with trembling fingers. Hermione glanced at Harry and he nodded, knowing that she’d rather look at it alone first. Hermione darted up the stairs to her dorm room and pulled the curtains around her bed as she tore open the envelope.

Harry gave Hedwig an owl treat and headed up to his own dormitory to wait on his own bed for Hermione with his curtains drawn. Fifteen minutes later Hermione poked her bushy head through his curtains. Harry could immediately tell from her puffy red eyes that she had been crying again.

“Here... I can’t...” Hermione began hoarsely. 

She passed Harry the letter to read and curled up under his other arm, resting her head on his shoulder. As Harry gently stroked Hermione’s tawny-brown tresses, grateful for the curtains, he began to read the letter from Hermione’s mother.

 

_Dear Hermione,_

_Thank you so much for writing. I’m so dreadfully sorry for not writing sooner myself. I must have tried to write this letter a hundred times. But every time I start it, I can’t think how to say it, and it comes out all wrong. I’m really grateful that you have such a brave, kind friend in Harry Potter, and I’m glad that he’s looking after you well. His owl is really intelligent, not to mention very beautiful. I don’t know how she managed to find me, as I’m staying with your Auntie Joanne in Bournemouth at the moment._

_Telling you why I’m with your Auntie is the hardest bit for me to write, because I know that deep down, your father still loves you very much. I just couldn’t stay in the same house with him after you left. But I don’t want you to feel like you’re to blame--because you’re not at all at fault dear._

_The fact is, I don’t blame you at all for running away. I’ve NEVER seen your father in such a state as he was the night he wanted to snap your wand. You must have been terrified. And when we found that you were gone in the morning, and the note you’d left behind, he was even worse. He rampaged through your room breaking everything in sight. When I tried to stop him he struck me, and I was forced to call the police so that I could remove your belongings safely._

_All your things are with me at your Auntie’s now. I know that you can repair them with magic, so I even brought the things your father broke. I know he didn’t mean to hit me. He’s apologised a number of times since and begged me to come back. I **was** hoping that with a bit of counseling, he could learn to cope a bit better. But it’s a bit difficult, because he can’t tell anyone about the world you belong to, and he refuses to be a part of it at all._

_I won’t pretend that I’m not frightened of your world myself, but I understand the necessity of you attending a school like Hogwarts, despite the dangers. It would be far more dangerous for young people with abilities such as yours to go untrained._

_I can’t be certain of this next bit, but I think it may also have something to do with how attached you are to Harry Potter. It’s hard to say, because your father refuses to admit to it. And really, that’s why I had to leave him more than any other reason. I’m hoping that one day, your father will realise that you are still his daughter, and that you can’t help being a witch, any more than you can help your best friend being a boy._

_So for the time being, you can send me letters here at your Auntie’s, and spend your holidays here as well if you wish. There’s plenty of room, and you can invite Harry to visit too if you’d like. Please write again soon._

_Love you,  
Mum_

 

“I’m sorry Hermione...” Harry began, feeling badly that Hermione’s father had come over all Dursleyish. He was also starting to feel really awkward about the likelihood that Mrs Granger’s use of the term “best friend” to describe Harry was a euphemism for something more meaningful.

“Th... thanks Harry!” Hermione stammered, “I... I think I’ll be alright now that I know I still have Mum at least...” 

Hermione surprised herself when the words popped out of her mouth. But then she remembered that her father had been mean about her liking Harry since First Year. And she was furious with him for hurting Mum. Hermione still felt confused by it all, but feeling angry about things felt much better than being scared to death when he’d gone ballistic that night and tried to break her door down to get to her wand. She shivered briefly, wondering how far he would have gone to take it from her. 

There was a rustling of Harry’s curtains and he gulped, his eyes widening when he heard a knocking on one of his posts. Hermione gasped, bolting upright and out from under Harry’s arm, her face flushing.

“Can we come in?” called out Parvati’s voice. “Is Hermione with you?” 

“We saw her come up the stairs,” said Lavender’s voice. “And she looked upset.”

“It... it’s alright,” Hermione squeaked. For a moment she panicked and tried to think of a lie to put them off, but then she realised that could just make things worse for Harry. “You can come through the curtain. Nothing’s going on! I... I just got an upsetting letter from my mum.” 

Lavender and Parvati entered through Harry’s curtain and both gave Hermione a hug before sitting on the bed cross-legged to peer at Hermione’s letter. They both gasped in horror and made sympathetic noises when they read about Hermione’s father.

Harry began to blush furiously, hoping that nobody else entered the boy's dorm, not sure that he’d be able to live down the rumours which were sure to start flying if Seamus, Dean, or Ron found three girls sitting on his bed.

**~o0o~**

The week leading up to the Hogsmeade Weekend was relatively uneventful, and fortunately, nobody had noticed that Lavender and Parvati had been up to the boys dorm. And as Hermione had visited the boys dorm to see Harry, Ron, and Neville on numerous occasions before, nobody had given her presence a second thought.

Saturday morning Harry and Hermione bid Ron goodbye as he departed for Hogsmeade with Seamus, Dean, and Neville, all bundled up in coats and scarves to weather the falling snow. Parvati and Lavender both gave Hermione a hug when they left as well. The castle seemed very still and quiet as nearly all of the students above Second Year had gone to Hogsmeade. 

As they made their way back up the marble stairs to the Common Room, Hermione mentally kicked herself for not having the foresight to ask her mum for permission to go to Hogsmeade. Harry almost seemed to be able to read her mind when he saw the expression on Hermione’s face.

“There’s no way you could have predicted your mum’s response Hermione!” Harry pointed out reasonably. “You thought they’d _**both**_ still be cross with you for running away!”

Hermione turned crimson at being so easy to read again.

“Psst - oi, you two, over here...”

Hermione looked up, startled to see two grinning freckled faces which she thought would be gone already. Harry turned around to see Fred and George peering at them both from behind the statue of a one-eyed witch

“What are you still doing here?” asked Hermione. Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly. 

“Early Christmas present for you both!” beamed George as he handed Harry a bit of parchment.

“Mind you, it's a bit of a wrench giving it to you...” said Fred.

“...but we decided that your need was greater than ours...” continued George.

“...after all, it’s about time that you two had a proper date...” smirked Fred, giving Harry a wink.

**~o0o~**

“Remind me why we’re doing this Harry?” Hermione moaned, feeling terribly guilty for inadvertently encouraging Harry to sneak her out of the castle for a “date” in Hogsmeade.

“Because Sirius Black hasn’t been sighted recently, and we’re both good enough at Patronus Charms now to ward off at least a few Dementors if there are any in the village,” Harry retorted, grinning. “And besides, we’ve got my Invisibility Cloak if we need it, but I doubt anyone will notice you among hundreds of other students.” 

“But what if Black knows about these tunnels?” whimpered Hermione. “Shouldn’t we turn the map in?”

“Maybe!” Harry admitted. “But not until after you’ve had a good chance to look around Hogsmeade. I suppose I can always turn it in later if you really think I ought to... But it’s not going to make much difference today...” 

“Besides, you heard Fred and George - this is the only passage which is really accessible. We’d have heard about it if Honeydukes had been broken into the last time Black got into the castle, and we know that Dementors will be swarming all over the village at night...” 

“The chances of Black actually knowing about this passage and being able to access it to get into the castle are pretty slim if you think about it.”

Hermione felt a bit better after mulling over Harry’s logic. The fact that Black couldn’t have used the Honeydukes passage when he’d got into the castle previously was what ultimately assuaged her worries. And remembering the terrifying experience with Mr Weasley’s car - there was _**no way**_ that anyone could have got through the one being guarded by the Whomping Willow without being bludgeoned half to death...

Hermione was thrilled with Hogsmeade. It looked as pretty as a Victorian Christmas painting with its snow covered thatched roofs, holly wreaths, glistening icicles dangling from window frames, and old fashioned street lanterns. She enjoyed Honeydukes much more than the daughter of two dentists ought to have. 

Zonko’s was almost as entertaining to Hermione as it was to Harry. The Post Office full of owls was fascinating, but most exciting to Hermione of all was the lovely bookshop, Tomes and Scrolls. While Hermione’s nose was buried in a book, Harry quietly bought her the one which she had already peered at longingly, and another one which he knew that she hadn’t seen yet, for her Christmas presents. Harry also found a book for Ron, which he was almost certain Ron would actually read.

Harry spotted a Firebolt in the window of the local Quidditch shop, but he didn’t even bother to waste his time drooling over something that he knew he couldn’t afford. Finally they ended up in the Three Broomsticks just after spying Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean leaving it.

Harry and Hermione had a late lunch and drank several Butterbeers until they spotted Hagrid, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Cornelius Fudge entering the pub. Harry quickly passed Hermione the Invisibility Cloak and she ducked under the table to put it on. 

“Hello Potter!” said Flitwick. “Hope you’re enjoying Hogsmeade!”

“Hi Harry! Nice ter see yeh takin’ the chance ter get out fer a bit while it’s daylight,” said Hagrid.

“How delightful to see you again Harry!” beamed Fudge as McGonagall eyed Harry suspiciously. “Yes indeed... you should be perfectly safe here in Hogsmeade as long as you’re back at Hogwarts before nightfall.”

“Speaking of which, I was actually thinking of heading back now while it’s still early,” said Harry with a grin. “I just thought I’d have a quick look around and get a few presents, but I don’t want to push my luck!”

The Invisible Hermione stuck to Harry like glue as he made a pathway to the door of the Three Broomsticks, and they made their way back to Honeydukes. Harry groaned when he ran right into Ron, Seamus, Neville and Dean, who were just leaving the sweet-shop. 

“Harry? You did come after all!” Ron grinned.

“Er... yeah! I... er... just thought I should pop out quick to buy a couple of presents for Hermione and you,” said Harry, turning a bit red. “I really should be getting back though.”

Hermione stayed as still as possible under the Invisibility Cloak, not saying a word, her heart pounding. Harry thought that maybe it was best to keep the news about the map between himself and Hermione. The last thing Harry wanted was for Ron to feel bad that Fred and George had given the map to him so that he could take Hermione out, instead of giving it to their own brother.

“Alright then, I’ll see you back at the castle Harry,” said Ron. “You’ll love Honeydukes - it’s got everything.”

Hermione and Harry managed to get back into the Honeydukes cellar without being noticed, and ran all the way through the tunnel back to Hogwarts. They both breathed a huge sigh of relief once they made it back safely to the Gryffindor Common Room without Hermione being caught. Hermione was glowing from the exertion and the excitement, and felt a bit giggly with the release of the tension.

“Thank you Harry!” Hermione beamed, still sounding breathless as she threw her arms around him and squeezed him tightly, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I had a lovely time.”

“Me too Hermione,” Harry grinned, thrilled to see her radiant smile as he hugged her back. “That was loads of fun. It was a bit nerve-wracking though! I’d swear that McGonagall knew something was up.”

“I’ll get a permission slip from mum before we go again Harry... I promise!” 

“And the map?” Harry looked at Hermione hopefully.

“Keep it Harry!” said Hermione without hesitation, and a gleam of fiery determination in her eye. “It could come in useful, and if Sirius Black _**does**_ show up back at the castle again, we can use it to help the professors find him.” 

Harry nodded cheerfully, and carefully hid the map at the bottom of his trunk.

**~o0o~**

Harry blinked as the pale sunlight of winter shone through the frosty window of the dormitory. Except for the buzzing of Ron’s snores it was silent in the dorm. Harry put on his slippers and tiptoed down to the Common Room still in his pyjamas, finding it empty. For a moment Harry was puzzled, then he remembered that everyone had left for Christmas Holidays. They must have left really early. Of all the Gryffindors, only Ron and Hermione had remained with Harry this year.

Harry sat in the sofa nearest to the crackling flames in the hearth, letting the peace and quiet wash over him. He heard a rustling sound and looked up to see Hermione approaching in her dressing gown with an armful of books, quills, and parchment. She set her things down on the table and sat next to Harry.

“Getting your homework out of the way early I see,” said Harry, grinning. “That’s a good idea. I’ll go and get mine too.”

Harry started to get up, but Hermione gently touched his arm.

“Don’t just yet Harry,” said Hermione with a slightly pleading smile. “It’s nice and peaceful here. Let’s just enjoy it for a bit until Ron gets up. Then we can go and get breakfast together and do our homework after.”

Harry settled back down, sighing in contentment as Hermione snuggled up next to him. He put an arm around her shoulders as she wrapped both of hers around his middle and lay her bushy head on his shoulder. Harry wasn’t certain how long they sat like that, cuddling in the warm glow of the fire, but when he finally heard Ron’s footsteps clomping on the stairs, he thought it must surely be getting on for lunchtime.

Hermione pulled away from Harry when she heard the heavy footfalls, hurriedly opening several books and scattering her parchments across the table. Ron grinned when he saw Hermione and Harry in the Common Room, both with their noses in a book.

“That figures... homework already!” Ron chortled. “I hope you’re planning on leaving a _**bit**_ of time to enjoy the holidays.”

“Of course we are Ron...” Hermione said briskly.

“...we just thought we’d get it out of the way...” continued Harry, grinning back at Ron. “But we can do it later. It’s almost lunchtime, you must be starving!” 

“Just a bit!” said Ron. 

Lunch was a quiet affair, as there were only three other students left in Hogwarts, two nervous First Years and a sulky looking Fifth Year Slytherin. Harry frowned when he noticed Hagrid wasn’t among the other professors. 

“We should go say hello to Hagrid,” said Harry quietly as Hermione and Ron nodded in agreement. “See what’s up.”

When lunch was finished, the three of them waded through the snowy drifts down the hill towards Hagrid’s hut, leaving a furrow behind them as the snow continued to fall. Harry was glad again for the Self-Warming Gloves which Hermione had got him for his birthday the year before, because all three of them were otherwise wet and freezing by the time they reached the snow-laden cabin. 

A few icicles fell from the eaves when Harry knocked on the front door. An odd low keening sound could be heard from within.

“Maybe we should get someone,” said Hermione anxiously when she heard the moaning.

Harry began to feel even more worried and thumped on the door loudly.

“Hagrid, you in there?” he shouted.

There was a heavy thudding of footsteps and the door opened creakily. Harry winced when a sobbing Hagrid flung his enormous arms around him, the gigantic hairy wizard's big fat tears freezing as they splashed against the hood of Harry’s coat.

“Yeh’ve heard,” bawled Hagrid.

**~o0o~**

**“Malfoy!”** Hermione fumed as she and Harry and Ron pored over the heavy dusty tomes. “I _**hate**_ him! That evil, disgusting, loathsome little worm! He barely got a scratch from Buckbeak...”

“And Pomfrey had it fixed in two seconds flat!” Ron muttered angrily. 

Despite his own freshly stirred bitterness, Harry was pleased. For once Ron seemed as eager as Hermione and Harry to search through books from the library. Malfoy’s father had lodged a complaint about Buckbeak the Hippogriff, and a date for a hearing before the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures had been set for April 20th. And all three of them were determined to find something to help Hagrid win his case.

But as Christmas Eve approached, it was difficult not to become distracted by all the decorations and the smell of delicious cooking wafting throughout the entire castle. Scabbers poked his nose out of Ron’s pocket for a sniff, and Ron left Harry and Hermione to it in the Common Room when he spotted Crookshanks glaring at him.

Harry woke abruptly early on Christmas morning when Ron whacked him with a pillow. 

“What the...?” muttered Harry as he found his glasses and peered at the grinning redhead.

“Oi - presents! Wake up sleepyhead!” 

“Blimey Ron! It’s not even light yet - besides, I want to open them with Hermione too!”

Ron grumped a bit as the pair of them hauled their heavy sacks down the stairs to the Common Room. But Ron's snores could soon be heard as he dozed off on the sofa while they waited for Hermione to wake up. Harry suddenly remembered that he’d left the presents he’d bought for Hermione and Ron in the dormitory.

Harry heard a tapping on his window while he collected the parcels next to his bed.

“Merry Christmas Hedwig!” he said, opening the window.

Harry grinned and stroked his owl’s feathers as he looked at the envelope and the little parcel which she had just brought to him. He was happy to see that they were for Hermione from her mother. Eagerly, Harry returned to the Common Room, forgetting to latch the window.

Ron woke with a start when he heard Hermione squealing excitedly.

“It’s a card from Mum, and she’s sent me a book too!” Hermione’s face shone brightly with happiness, and without thinking she pounced on Harry and gave him a kiss on the lips as Ron’s jaw dropped. 

“Thank you so much for making me write to Mum, Harry!” squeaked Hermione, tears of joy glistening in her lashes. “Having her back is the best Christmas Present you could have given me!”

Harry beamed at Hermione’s radiant face, his head spinning as his heart began to race. His lips burned where Hermione’s had touched his. The kiss had been brief, but Harry’s bitterness about Black and Malfoy evaporated in a puff of smoke as the luminescent feelings the kiss had stirred, surged within him.

“Well, I suppose you can always return these then, if they don’t measure up,” Harry chortled teasingly as he handed Hermione the two parcels he had wrapped for her.

“Don’t be silly Harry,” giggled Hermione as she daintily unwrapped her presents. “I’m sure they’re just as lovely...” 

Hermione’s eyes widened in delight when she saw what Harry had given her. The book she had been ogling the most in Tomes and Scrolls. She ran her fingers along the gold leaf lettering on the embossed surface of the vintage edition of _Hogwarts, A History_ and inhaled the musty aroma of the red leather binding.

Hermione gasped in surprise when she read the title of the other book Harry had given her: _Potioneer Extraordinaire: Hector Dagworth-Granger, A Biography_.

“He could be one of your ancestors Hermione,” said Harry quietly.

“But my dad...”

“...is a muggle... I know! But still - that doesn’t mean anything if you go back far enough Hermione.” 

Hermione flung herself on Harry again, this time being more careful to kiss him on the cheek. But she let the kiss linger as long as possible before she remembered that Ron was goggling at them both. Hermione plonked herself down in an armchair, blushing furiously as Crookshanks jumped on her lap.

“Here Ron, I got you something too,” said Harry, feeling a bit dazed and looking more than a bit red-faced as well. 

Ron must have been a bit dazed too, Harry thought, because it took Ron a moment to blink before realising that he was holding a present in his hand. Ron tore off the wrapping and gawked at the book. He began flicking through the pages excitedly looking at the moving illustrations in _The Making of a Champion: Winning Quidditch Techniques for All Ages_.

“Blimey Harry! This is amazing... thanks!” said Ron, a gleam in his eyes. “I can practice some of these techniques on a school broom... Maybe even make the team next year!”

Harry grinned and nodded as he and Ron and Hermione tipped out the heavy sacks which had been at the end of their beds. They had all received knitted jerseys from Ron’s mum of course.

“Urgh... Maroon again?” Ron grumbled.

One by one, Harry opened his presents and set them on the table: as well as the jersey, Mrs Weasley had sent him some knitted socks, a scarf, a dozen mince pies, a cake, and a box of nut-brittle. Lupin had given Harry a photo book with pictures of Harry’s mum and dad. Harry put that aside to look at later. Hagrid had sent Harry a bag of his rock-cakes, which were better for use as bludgers than they were for eating. 

When Harry got to the biggest parcel, he had a strange sense of foreboding. It was a long thin box without a name card. He opened the box and gasped in shock when a sleek, gleaming broomstick rolled onto the scarlet and gold Common Room rug.

The Firebolt!

“I don’t believe it!” Harry croaked. Hermione drew a sharp intake of breath.

“Wicked!” Ron exclaimed in awe. “Who sent that to you Harry?”

“No idea!” Harry muttered darkly as his stomach churned. This didn’t make any sense. 

“Maybe Lupin?” said Ron eagerly. “He likes you!”

“Lupin doesn’t have any money,” said Hermione in a strained sort of voice. 

“What about Dumbledore... or McGonagall?” Ron proffered.

“Ron... this is the most expensive broom there is!” Harry said in exasperation. “It’s an International Standard! Neither one of them would spend thousands of galleons on me!” 

Harry glanced at Hermione worriedly, and from the crestfallen expression on her face, he could see she was thinking the same thing.

“Well, _**someone**_ likes you,” said Ron, oblivious to the looks being shared between Harry and Hermione. “Let’s go give it a spin then!”

“No!” Harry shook his head.

“What?” Ron stared at Harry in bewilderment, not sure that he’d heard correctly. 

“Not until it’s been checked out by a professor!” Harry muttered. ‘I think McGonagall should have a look at it.”

“Are you barking?” moaned Ron, beginning to grow angry, wondering if Harry just didn’t want him to mess it up.

“Ron, don’t you think it’s a bit odd that someone would anonymously send me the best broom in the world - when there’s a mass-murdering-maniac on the loose?” asked Harry, trying to be as patient as possible while wondering how Ron could be so thick sometimes. “He probably stole it and put a curse on it to try and kill me...”

“That’s bloody ridiculous!” fumed Ron.

“No it’s not!” said Hermione quietly. Crookshanks glowered at Ron from Hermione’s lap as his bushy tail began to wag in agitation. “Ron, be reasonable...”

“Oh... of course _**you’re**_ going to agree!” Ron snapped. “Bloody hell! Can’t keep your hands off him can you...?”

“RON!” Harry growled warningly.

Ron caught the tone and he quieted, but he shot Harry and Hermione a mutinous glare.

“Fine!” Ron muttered, “Take the broom to McGonagall to be mutilated! See if I bloody care! I’m taking my things back upstairs.”

“He’ll calm down eventually!” said Harry sadly, when he peered at Hermione’s anxiety-stricken face. “He usually does...”

But a loud roar of fury from upstairs curdled Harry’s stomach and an icy feeling that things were going from bad to worse coursed through his veins. Ron slammed the door with a loud bang and stormed back down the stairs. Hermione turned white and began to shake with fright, flashing back to the night her father had tried to take her wand.

 **“HE’S GONE!”** bellowed Ron, his face red with rage. **“SCABBERS IS GONE!”**

Ron strode aggressively across the Common Room towards Hermione. Crookshanks bristled on Hermione’s lap, hissing and spitting. Harry jumped up from his seat and Ron halted. 

**“LOOK!”** Ron shouted, holding out his hand, **“IT WAS HERMIONE’S BLOODY CAT - I KNOW IT!... THIS IS ALL THAT’S LEFT OF SCABBERS!”**

Harry peered closely, and sure enough, in the sweaty palm of Ron’s hand was the tip of Scabbers tail and a few ginger cat hairs. But something wasn’t adding up.

“It can’t have been Crookshanks Ron!” Harry said firmly. “He came downstairs from Hermione’s dormitory with her, and he’s been down here the entire time... He’s still on Hermione’s lap!”

Ron scowled at Crookshanks malevolently.

“He probably snuck upstairs when you weren't looking and came back!” Ron snarled. “And for all I know your **BLOODY BIRD** was in on it too Harry! **LOOK WHAT ELSE I FOUND!** ” 

Ron opened his other hand and two snowy white feathers fluttered to the floor. Then Ron spun around on his heel and marched back up the stairs, banging through the door to the dormitory and slamming it again as Harry stared after him in shock. Harry thought back to the incident at the Leaky Cauldron with a hollow feeling in his gut, wondering if Hedwig really had gone for Scabbers. 

But whatever had happened to Scabbers, Harry knew Crookshanks had nothing to do with it. And after Harry’s initial pangs of guilt faded, he began to feel very angry towards Ron for how badly he’d frightened Hermione. Harry walked over to Hermione who was still trembling violently, tears streaming down her cheeks, and took her hand. Hermione let Harry lead her to the sofa and they both sat down together.

Harry clutched Hermione to him tightly with both arms and stroked her hair until her quaking and sobbing subsided. Finally, he could feel her calming and loosened his hold. Hermione snuggled into a more comfortable position under one of Harry’s arms and leaned her head on his shoulder. Crookshanks jumped up, sprawled himself across both of their laps and began purring.

There seemed to be very little Christmas Spirit left in the Common Room that morning, and Harry wondered if his friendship with Ron was over. But as Hermione continued to rest her bushy head peacefully on Harry’s shoulder, he caught the minty scent of toothpaste and felt her gentle breath against his neck again.

Harry closed his eyes and saw a flicker of luminescence in the dark. As the warm glow spread through Harry, he felt it growing in Hermione as well, and he knew that no matter how bleak things seemed at the moment, eventually everything would work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The apparently modified explanation of how a Dementor works on people in this chapter is based on the actual Canon description of how they respond to Patronuses when Rowling writes the Action, which in my view contradicts the Explanation (Exposition) given by Lupin in Canon. 
> 
> This is also borne out later when we find out that the negative effects of Dementors have little to no hold on those filled with hate and anger, and is borne out again later in the series when Voldemort declares that Dementors and Dark Wizards are Natural Allies, and this is also supported by Rowling’s further explanations that Dark Wizards can’t produce Patronuses, and don’t even need them to hang around comfortably with Dementors. 
> 
> (Which rather goes to show how useless it was to put truly evil wizards in Azkaban :P ).
> 
> Of course this also brings into question Umbridge’s ability to produce any sort of Patronus, which I believe to be a mistake on Rowling’s part. Rowling’s own post-canon explanations on that score are very squishy, and do not bear up to close scrutiny, as Umbridge is as truly evil as Voldemort - if not worse - in my view!


	11. A Light in the Dark: Part 2

Christmas Day was a dismal affair for the most part, though Harry and Hermione tried to make the best of things. Ron shot them both dirty looks all through breakfast, and they noticed that he barely touched his food. 

Harry was furious at Ron for scaring Hermione out of her wits and unfairly blaming her cat, but he couldn’t help feeling twinges of guilt about the possible role of Hedwig in Scabbers apparent demise. Despite Ron’s frequent complaints about Scabbers being boring and useless, Harry knew that he had been very attached to the rodent. 

Harry kept trying to tell himself that Hedwig had nothing to do with Scabbers disappearance, and anyway, there was something very weird about that rat being so ancient, but his doubts kept niggling. Though judging from the vicious glares Ron kept giving Hermione, it was obvious that he continued to believe that Crookshanks was the most likely culprit to have eaten Scabbers.

Or was it because Hermione agreed with Harry that the Firebolt should be turned over to McGonagall for a thorough inspection? Harry was still shocked that Ron had taken the whole thing so personally. Ron had been furious even before Scabbers had gone missing.

“I don’t understand Hermione, why is Ron so cross with me about the Firebolt?” asked Harry as they carried the sleek glossy new broomstick, not a twig out of place, to McGonagall’s office.

“I... I’m really not sure Harry - it might be because he’s jealous,” Hermione replied, biting her lip pensively. “He’s never had a new broom all of his own... and... and I think he was at least hoping to get a ride on yours.”

“Yeah... I bet he’d love being hurled to his death from 50 feet up by a cursed broom like I almost was in First Year!” Harry muttered darkly as he knocked on McGonagall’s office door.

“Well Potter - this is a surprise!” said McGonagall when she answered. “You’re lucky I was still here. I was just about to pop down to the Three Broomsticks... Speaking of broomsticks, shouldn’t you be giving that new one in your hand a spin? The match against Ravenclaw isn’t that far off...”

“That’s just it Professor...” Harry nervously began as Hermione shuffled beside him. “This broom - I didn’t buy it! I couldn’t really afford this one even if I wanted to... it’s the Firebolt! And someone sent it to me with no card or note... nothing. I... er... I think it might have been sent by...”

“...Sirius Black!” gasped the professor, her face paling in immediate understanding. 

McGonagall gingerly took the shiny world-class racing-broom from Harry’s grasp and examined it with an almost loving caress. With Potter on this broom, she and Wood were almost guaranteed another trophy - anyone would be tempted to take it for an immediate ride. And given Potter’s own love of flying, she was very fortunate that he was still standing...

“I... I must say... I’m very impressed with you Mr Potter! Bringing this straight to me like this - if you hadn’t...” McGonagall swallowed uncomfortably. 

“Well... let me just say that I’m very pleased that you’re sensible enough to know that _**some**_ things simply aren’t worth risking your life for!” McGonagall peered at Harry knowingly, then slid her eyes over for a sidelong look at Hermione. “Though I suppose other things are!” she concluded.

Harry gulped and Hermione turned crimson. Professor McGonagall’s lips curled up at the corner slightly. 

“Go on then you two,” the oft strict professor said gently, her features softening. “It’s Christmas - loosen up a bit - let your hair down - have some fun. I’ll take this broom to Madam Hooch and Flitwick - and with any luck we’ll have this back in time for you to flatten Ravenclaw on it, Potter!” 

Neither Harry or Hermione were eager to return to the Gryffindor Common Room, where Ron was likely to be sulking. And not even Hermione was inclined to spend Christmas Day in the library. They decided to take a walk outside, and were glad that they had when they both felt their moods lift.

Despite the cold, Hogwarts at Christmas truly was a proverbial winter wonderland. Their breath drifted through the air like little clouds among the lightly falling snowflakes. Glistening icicles hung from the parapets, eaves, and windowsills of the castle, and blankets of snow covered the roofs of the towers. 

The evergreens in the forest stood tall, dusted with white amidst the frosty snow covered branches of oaks, sycamores, and yews. Ice stretched out further across the surface of the lake than it had when they had walked by it last, and the mountains reared like glaciers against the sky. 

Hermione curled her arms around Harry’s middle, leaning into him as he put his own arm over her shoulders and kissed her forehead. 

Time seemed to stop, and Harry didn’t know how long they stood there like that, drinking in the beauty of the wintry landscape as they held each other. But they must have been outside for a while, he thought when they spied a snowman near the entrance which hadn’t been there on their way out, presumably built by the two First Years who had stayed on for Christmas.

Hermione was glowing when they got back to the Common Room. She ran up to her dorm to change and get ready for Christmas Dinner. 

Harry’s stomach clenched as he pushed open the door to the boys dorm. Ron’s curtains were drawn around his bed, and Harry wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or angry. But as he changed, he decided that he felt relieved that he didn’t have to see the prat for the time-being - he was sure things would be awkward enough around the dinner table.

On his way back to the Common Room, Harry dragged his cover and pillows off his bed, grabbing his pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers while he was at it, prepared to sleep on the sofa by the Common Room fire for the rest of the holidays.

**~o0o~**

Shortly after New Year, Gryffindor Tower was bustling again, and Harry returned to his own bed with a sigh. Harry was going to miss sleeping in the Common Room, as Hermione had snuck down to cuddle him by the fire every night after she was sure that Ron was asleep and unlikely to burst in on them.

Harry was still torn between feeling bad for Ron, and angry at him, but at least Ron would be less inclined to try and have another row as he had several times over the week since the fateful Christmas Day. 

Harry tried to avoid looking at Ron, but that proved to be difficult the night before term started. The other person whom Harry was trying to avoid, waylaid him in the Gryffindor Common Room before he could escape.

“Had a good Christmas Potter?” asked Oliver Wood. 

“Er... I suppose,” said Harry awkwardly.

“Right...” Wood seemed almost as anxious as Harry. “Er, so how’s things going... er... with learning how to ward off Dementors then? After that last match... we really can’t afford to lose you!”

“Oh! Well _**that’s**_ going brilliantly!” Harry replied, hoping Wood was going to leave it there. But no such luck.

“Excellent!” Wood nodded, looking slightly cheered. “What about your broom? Ordered a new one yet?”

“No!” muttered Harry, his eyes inadvertently darting towards the redhead sitting in an armchair nearby. 

**“ _What?_ ”** gasped Wood, looking panic-stricken. “You’d better get a move on Potter! You can’t ride that Shooting Star against Ravenclaw...”

“He got a Firebolt for Christmas!” snapped Ron, glowering at Harry.

“Don’t get too excited just yet Oliver,” Harry sighed, trying to ignore Ron. “I handed it over to McGonagall in case it’s cursed!”

“What? How could it be cursed?”

“Sirius Black,” said Harry wearily. “Someone sent it to me anonymously...”

“That’s ridiculous Potter!” Wood moaned. “Black couldn’t have bought a Firebolt. He’s on the run!”

“ **SEE!** Even Wood thinks you’re mental,” Ron added savagely. 

Harry rolled his eyes, wondering if all Quidditch fanatics were this thick! But he thought about McGonagall, and supposed not. 

“ **LOOK**...” Harry snapped back, “If Black sent it to me, he probably stole it and then cursed it. If he didn’t, then it ought to be fine. But either way, Flitwick and Hooch are stripping it down, and making sure that it’s not going to **KILL ME!** ...” 

“McGonagall agreed with me straightaway that Black probably sent it - and she said that with a bit of luck, I’ll hopefully have it back **CURSE FREE** before the match!” Harry concluded vehemently. 

Still fuming, Harry turned on his heel and stalked away leaving a stunned Oliver Wood and a slightly ashamed looking Ron Weasley in his wake.

**~o0o~**

Classes began again the next day. Nobody was looking forward to Care of Magical Creatures in the frigid January snow, but Hagrid had moved on to salamanders and had a blazing bonfire going, and it turned out to be a really fun lesson. Arithmancy was far less enjoyable, but Professor Vector had at least given Harry’s holiday homework assignment a passing mark, and Hermione had given Harry an encouraging smile.

“You’re doing really well, Harry,” she whispered. “Eventually you’ll get the hang of it.”

Harry and Hermione continued their Anti-Dementor lessons on Thursday, and though they were both doing splendidly according to Lupin, neither of them had yet produced a Corporeal Patronus. 

Ravenclaw was narrowly defeated by Slytherin a week after term had started. Oliver Wood had indicated that was a good thing, asserting that if Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw, they would move up to second place. Harry stared Wood down when the team captain insisted that practices would be increased to five a week, leaving only one night a week to do homework, when Harry knew that he needed at least four to properly keep up. 

“...except for Potter!” Wood snapped, knowing that Harry had McGonagall convinced that his studies were more important. Wood had also tried to get the Firebolt back from McGonagall, and she had dressed him down thoroughly for being more concerned about winning than Harry Potter’s life.

Ron continued to give Harry and Hermione the cold shoulder, spending most of his time with Seamus and Dean. Fred, George, and Ginny had tried cheering him up about Scabbers, to little avail. Ron continued to furiously maintain that it was all Hermione’s fault for not keeping her cat locked up. He seemed to have given up on presenting the possibility that Hedwig might be to blame. 

“Buck up Ron,” said Fred heartily. “You always said Scabbers was boring. He was ancient and practically on death’s door anyway - it’s probably better that he snuffed it quickly!”

“ _Fred!_ ” gasped Ginny in an aggrieved tone.

“All he did was eat and sleep anyway Ron,” George added pointedly. “Weren’t _**you**_ the one who was always going on about how pathetic and useless he was?”

Ron narrowed his eyes, growing flustered at Fred and George’s suspicious attempts at “cheering him up.”

“He bit Goyle for us once,” Ron indignantly told George.

“His finest hour,” snorted Fred, rolling his eyes.

“Bit me too - twice...” muttered Harry darkly, who was sitting nearby in the Common Room, unable to help himself when he overheard. 

Hermione kept her face hidden behind one of the books Harry had given her for Christmas. Ginny tried to distract Ron by telling him to get a new pet in Hogsmeade. Fed up, Ron went over to sit with Seamus and Dean, where he knew he’d find a bit more sympathy. 

“That cat was bang out of order mate,” Seamus whispered at Ron.

Despite everything, Harry continued to feel a pang of guilt at the possibility that Hedwig might have made off with Scabbers. But as Harry and Hermione were both being kept very busy with studying for all of their classes, Anti-Dementor lessons, helping Hagrid prepare for Buckbeak’s hearing, and Harry with his two Quidditch practices a week, Harry tried his best to just let it go. Though every so often, Harry would catch Ron glancing at him with an almost wistful expression. 

Harry shook his head and sighed. If Ron wanted to be friends again, Ron would have to make a bit more of an effort with Hermione. Harry was willing if Ron was, but he didn’t have time to waste on someone who wasn’t ready to apologise for frightening Hermione and admit that he didn’t actually have any proof that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers.

On their one clear day a week, Harry and Hermione spent time with whomever was most available: Neville or Ginny, or Parvati and Lavender, or Luna, or Fred and George.

January turned into February, and the winter showed no signs of abating. But Harry was thrilled when in Ancient Runes they began learning a rune set which warded against freezing to death. It wouldn’t necessarily stop him from feeling cold, but it would prevent the worst effects of cold weather - such as frostbite, chillblains, or hypothermia - when painted on the skin with a special magical ink which could only be removed with a wand.

Finally, a week before Saturday’s match against Ravenclaw, McGonagall found Harry and Hermione in the corridor just after a Patronus lesson. Professor McGonagall looked the happiest that Harry could ever remember seeing her. Her eyes were gleaming as she held out the Firebolt.

“Well Potter...” she began. “You’ve got a very good friend out there somewhere - a very _**rich**_ friend I might add. We’ve all given it our best - even Dumbledore - and have determined it utterly curse-free.”

 **“ _Really?_ ”** gasped Hermione. 

“Yes... really!” retorted McGonagall brightly.

Harry was speechless - he had been so sure it was cursed! He was still concerned that he had no idea who his mysterious benefactor was, but as long as the broom wasn’t going to kill him, he supposed that he could try not to worry about it too much. In the meantime, he was the proud owner of the best broomstick in the world. He couldn’t wait to clobber Slytherin with it.

“Er...” was the best Harry could manage as his excitement overtook him. He couldn’t believe he was actually going to be able to ride the Firebolt.

“Oh... and Potter, _**do**_ try and win won’t you?” Professor McGonagall finished with an uncharacteristically impish smirk.

Harry grinned as they made their way back to the Common Room as Hermione practically skipped beside him.

“You should let Ron know!” Hermione told Harry with a hopeful expression. 

Harry peered at her quizzically, then it dawned on him that Hermione might think cheering up Ron about the broomstick would help him get over Scabbers. Harry wasn’t so sure about that. And in any case, there was only one thing Harry really cared about.

“If Ron apologises to you, I’ll even let him have first go on it Hermione,” said Harry firmly. “Otherwise, this broom is off-limits to him until he does! I told Ron very clearly that Crookshanks was in the Common Room all Christmas morning, and he didn’t believe me.”

“But...”

“This isn’t about my pride Hermione!” Harry interjected. “It’s about Ron treating you fairly! If Ron was still blaming Hedwig, I’d give him a go on this broom in heartbeat, because it could be true. But he’s still accusing Crookshanks when I know for a fact that it wasn’t your cat...” 

“I can’t necessarily make Ron agree with that completely... but Ron needs to at least admit that it might not have been Crookshanks, and he needs to apologise to you for being so horrible to you.”

Hermione looked at Harry anxiously, feeling torn. She really wanted Harry to have his first-ever-friend back, because she knew how much Harry missed Ron. But Hermione couldn’t help feeling a thrill of happiness that Harry was so adamant about standing up for her... which also made her feel guilty for feeling happy.

Harry peered at Hermione and stopped walking, even though they weren’t at their floor yet. He could see everything she was feeling written all over her face. Harry set the Firebolt next to the restored portrait of the Fat Lady - who was excitedly watching the drama unfold, eager to have some juicy gossip to share with her friend Violet - and he wrapped his arms around Hermione. 

Very tentatively, Harry pressed his lips against Hermione’s and quickly pulled back, hoping that it would have a similar effect on her as the kiss she’d given him at Christmas - and hoping that he hadn’t overstepped. When Harry saw Hermione’s cheeks turning pink and a little smile creeping to her lips, and her lashes fluttering shyly as her eyes glazed ever-so-slightly, he felt a swooping sensation of success. 

Hermione was stunned when Harry kissed her on the lips. It was completely unexpected. But all of a sudden she felt a shivery tingling sensation of joy rush through her as her heart began to race, and her doubts vanished. Hermione still hoped that Harry and Ron could be friends again, but now she felt that it was alright to be happy that Harry was sticking by her.

“Thank you Harry!” she whispered, feeling a bit giddy. 

They continued on to their corridor, where they found Neville begging Sir Cadogan to let him in. The slightly demented Knight was still guarding the entrance to Gryffindor Common Room as the Fat Lady was too frightened to return, and he kept changing the passwords on a daily basis. 

“I wrote them all down,” moaned Neville. “But I lost them.”

“It’s Oddsbodikins today, I think...” said Hermione, giving the Knight a glare. 

The disappointed Knight opened, revealing the entrance, and Harry let Neville and Hermione enter the Common Room first. When Harry followed holding the shining new broom, people’s heads began to swivel as they gawked in admiration. 

“Blimey, so tha’s it then!” said Seamus in a hushed tone of reverence. 

“The Firebolt!” squealed Lavender.

As a number of students swarmed Harry, Oliver Wood leapt out of his seat, tears of joy in his eyes. Fred and George grinned at Harry and flashed him thumbs-up gestures. Ron, who had been having a game of Exploding Snap with Seamus and Dean whirled around to goggle at Harry and the Firebolt.

“She gave it back to you!” gasped Ron, an eager gleam in his eyes. 

Harry’s grin faded, and the crowd of Gryffindors congregating around him awkwardly fell back. Lavender and Parvati sidled near Hermione protectively, and Neville gulped, but stood his ground next to Harry.

“Well...?” said Harry, raising his eyebrows after an awkward moment of silence. 

Ron began to flush, knowing exactly what it was that Harry wanted, as Harry had made it perfectly plain since Christmas. Ron’s eyes darted towards Hermione and narrowed. Ron spun around in his seat, turning his back to Harry and Hermione as Seamus and Dean peered at him questioningly. Ron just shrugged sulkily, and they returned to their game of Exploding Snap.

“I’m sorry Harry!” said Hermione quietly, giving Harry’s hand a comforting squeeze. 

“Me too,” Harry sighed.

Gradually the noise level in the Common Room returned to normal as people relaxed and began admiring the Firebolt again.

The Gryffindor team’s practice sessions went brilliantly over the week leading up the match against Ravenclaw. Everyone was performing to their top levels, inspired by the presence of the Firebolt in their midst. Harry grinned when even Hermione encouraged him to go to all of the extra practices.

“You’ll need to get used to the feel of the Firebolt Harry,” said Hermione when he clambered off his broom glowing with exhilaration and ran his fingers through his windswept hair at the end of his first practice with it. “...It’s got a much faster acceleration than your Nimbus. And it won’t hurt you academically to focus most of your attention on Quidditch for one week...”

After practicing their Patronus Charms on Thursday, Harry felt a bit more unsettled than he usually did afterwards. He and Hermione were still doing well, but Lupin had been filling him and Hermione in a bit at the end of each session of his own time at Hogwarts with Harry’s parents, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. Something niggled in the back of Harry’s mind about the way Pettigrew had died at the hand of Black, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

**~o0o~**

Harry scrambled over a boulder in the middle of a forest he didn’t recognise, sweaty and out of breath. He pushed through the thorny underbrush on the other side and emerged, scratched and bleeding near a burbling creek in the moonlight. Gasping for air as he splashed through the shallow water, Harry whirled around in a panic to see if the enormous snake was still following him.

A hissing noseless face emerged from the bush, but remained at the edge of the water spitting venom angrily, as if unable to cross. Harry began to hope, but then he stiffened, his breath catching as he saw a man-sized rodent grinning malevolently at him with sharp yellowing teeth and beady black eyes. 

The gigantic rat appeared diseased; holes in its fur revealed patches of bare, scabbing skin; it was missing one of its hands, and half of its wormy wriggling tail was also gone. But for all of its apparent sickliness, the giant rat seemed even more deadly as it slipped into the stream after Harry, as if ordered to by the snake. 

But just as Harry thought that he was a goner for sure, bright light flared in the darkness on the other side of the stream. A glowing etheric doe emerged, and Harry caught the comforting scent of mint as it beckoned him to safety. 

Harry bolted upright in his bed with a start, breathless and sweating as he had been in the dream. Hands shaking, Harry put on his glasses to look at the time and saw that it was after two am. Grateful that the match against Ravenclaw had been set for later in the morning, rather than first thing, Harry poured himself a glass of water from the jug beside his bed. Something caught his eye down on the lawn in the moonlight.

Harry slipped out of his bed quietly and padded over to the window for a better look. He felt a flicker of relief when he saw that it was just Crookshanks prowling across the lawn near some bushes. But _**was**_ it just Crookshanks that he saw in the silvery moonlight reflecting from the hard-packed snow on the ground? 

A large white owl lit upon the ground next to the cat. Harry drew a sharp intake of breath when he spotted the enormous shaggy black dog again, emerging from the bushes to join the cat and the owl. What did it mean? 

Harry hadn’t given the idea of the Grim much credence, but he couldn’t pretend that the idea wasn’t unnerving after having seen the dog twice before. Harry glanced at the snoring Ron wildly for a moment, wondering if he should wake him, then decided against it.

Harry peered out of the window again and began to relax. If Crookshanks and Hedwig could see the dog also, it seemed highly unlikely to be a ‘Dark Beast of the Underworld.’ Harry shook his head with a wry little smile as he sipped his water and watched the animals playing together under the moonlight, thinking about what Hermione would say about his brief fit of nerves. Feeling much better, Harry slipped back into bed and was soon dreaming of snuggling with Hermione and kissing her minty lips instead.

**~o0o~**

Hermione frowned when she spied the pretty, black haired Ravenclaw Seeker batting her eyelashes flirtatiously at Harry as the two Quidditch teams waited for Madam Hooch’s starting whistle to blow. Harry smiled at the other Seeker and Hermione was overcome with a strong urge to hex the girl, though she wasn’t entirely certain why. Cho Chang wasn’t Malfoy after all. Lavender and Parvati giggled when they saw the expression on Hermione’s face.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about Hermione,” Lavender whispered in her ear.

“Lavender’s right,” Parvati murmured in Hermione’s other ear. “Harry loves you too much to ever let another girl come between you two, even if he does think she’s pretty.” 

Hermione turned crimson when she realised that Parvati and Lavender seemed to have understood what she was feeling better than she had herself. 

Harry smiled at Cho, wondering why the pretty Fourth Year Seeker on the opposing team would be interested in him. Then it struck Harry that she was probably hoping to distract him, as his Firebolt easily outclassed her Comet 260 by miles. It was true that she was quite pretty, but she had another think coming if she thought Harry was that easy to mess with. 

Harry glanced back at the stands and beamed at Hermione when he spied her anxious face in between Lavender’s and Parvati’s. He knew how scared she was for him. But he was confident today that he would have no trouble dealing with any Dementors with all of the nice memories which Hermione had given him. Harry’s own residual anxiety vanished when he saw Hermione’s face light up happily as he continued to beam at her.

His eyes caught Ron’s in the stands, and he was heartened to see that Ron was grinning at him and cheering. That was a positive sign that Ron might be starting to finally get over things. Harry also spotted Luna in the Ravenclaw section, looking torn between rooting for her own House, and rooting for Harry.

Then Madam Hooch’s whistle blew and the match began.

“And they’re off,” called out Lee Jordan’s voice through the megaphone as he began announcing the match. “Potter’s flying for Gryffindor on the Firebolt of course, a spectacular world-class model which is the broomstick of choice for all of the National Teams vying for the World Cup this year...”

“Jordan, the match!” snapped McGonagall.

“Just providing a bit of background for the audience Professor - the Firebolt has an amazing autobrake system giving it unsurpassed handling for a broomstick which can go from 0 to 240 km in 10 seconds flat, which is double the acceleration of the Comet...”

“JORDAN!” McGonagall glowered at Lee and he grinned.

“Alright, alright, keep your hair on Professor! Gryffindor in possession - Katie Bell heading for the goal...”

The wind whooshed past Harry as he zoomed around keeping an eagle eye out for the fluttering Golden Snitch. Despite the chill of winter still in the air, the sun was out and it was a bright, clear day. Cho seemed to realise that her broomstick was no match, and was marking him, cutting him off at every opportunity.

Gryffindor was up by 80 points when Harry thought he saw the Snitch. Cho suddenly appeared in his path again, giggling coquettishly.

“And Cho looks like she’s trying to distract the Gryffindor Seeker with her admittedly quite distracting feminine charms,” shouted Jordan gleefully into the megaphone. “She’ll need every advantage on the Comet 260 of course - but Fat Chance of that - everyone knows that Potter and Granger are attached at the hip...”

 **“JORDAN,”** bellowed Professor McGonagall. “This is a Quidditch match, not Skeeter’s Gossip Column...”

Harry shook his head and grinned, taking the opportunity for a quick glance at Hermione who had her scarlet face buried in her hands.

“See!” hissed Lavender in Hermione’s ear, “Everybody knows it’s true.”

The match continued apace, with Ravenclaw managing to score three goals. Harry saw it - the Snitch, glittering in the sun down the other end of the field. Harry swooped towards it when he heard a scream. Cho looked terrified and pointed, and for a moment Harry thought she was trying to trick him, but he realised that she must really actually like him a bit to try and warn him of the three Dementors on the field.

Something seemed a bit off about them, and he wondered why the wraiths weren’t soaring up towards him, but Harry didn’t waste any time thinking about it. He whipped out his wand and with his recent memory of kissing Hermione he roared, **“ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”**

Something enormous and silvery erupted from his wand, shooting at the tall hooded figures on the field. Harry didn’t pause to watch; he kept his eye on the gleaming Snitch as he dove for it. His fingers clasped around the Snitch as the stands burst into cheers.

The Gryffindor team all clamoured around Harry, hugging him and slapping him on the back. Harry smiled radiantly as Hermione ran onto the field. Oliver Wood almost didn’t want to let go of Harry but thought better of it when he saw the determination in Hermione’s eyes.

“That was _**amazing**_ Harry!” shouted Hermione as she pounced on him, flinging her arms around his waist. Then, whispering in Harry‘s ear, “It was hard to make out exactly what it was in the daylight, but I think you managed a Corporeal Patronus.” 

Harry’s eyes widened and he returned Hermione’s embrace delightedly. 

“I was thinking of you,” he whispered in her ear.

Even Ron was shouting and grinning, “YES! You did it Harry!”

“Good for you Harry!” yelled Seamus. 

Luna tried to get close to congratulate Harry, but she was having a difficult time fighting her way through the crowd of Gryffindors gathered around him. Harry spotted Percy Weasley on the field with his Ravenclaw girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, and rolled his eyes when he heard their exchange. Hermione, still clinging to Harry, overheard it as well and her eyes narrowed in distaste.

“Ten Galleons to me!” chortled Percy. “Pay up Penelope!” 

“Ruddy brilliant Harry!” boomed out Hagrid.

“That was quite the Patronus,” said a quiet voice behind Harry. 

Harry spun around with Hermione still in his arms, grinning at Professor Lupin, who appeared to be a bit unnerved as well as pleased. 

“What happened to the Dementors? I was too busy catching the Snitch to pay attention!” said Harry excitedly.

“Ah, well see for yourself,” Lupin smirked, gesturing at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who all lay in a collapsed pile on the ground, struggling to extricate themselves from long black robes.

“HAH!” Harry snorted mirthfully as Hermione giggled. “So _**that’s**_ why they looked a bit odd. I suppose they used a bit of magic to make themselves look taller.”

“Well, I never!” shrieked an infuriated Professor McGonagall at the three Slytherins. “A despicable attempt to sabotage the Seeker. Detention for the lot of you, and fifty points apiece from Slytherin - and mark my words Dumbledore shall hear of this - ah, yes, there he is now.”

Grinning happily, Hermione clutched Harry all the way back the Common Room, as tightly as he was still grasping the struggling Snitch. The celebration that Fred and George threw went on all through the day, and picked up again after dinner, lasting well into the night. 

Harry was absolutely one hundred percent certain now that there was absolutely nothing wrong with the big black dog which he had now seen three times. Though he was beginning to suspect that he must have some sort of connection with the canine.

The only thing which could have made the day perfect, would be if Ron apologised to Hermione. Every time he came near to try and congratulate Harry, Harry raised his eyebrows expectantly at him. Ron turned pink, and appeared slightly abashed. Harry could see the struggle going on inside of Ron, but Ron still seemed too stubbornly attached to his anger at Hermione to take the next step.

The next couple of weeks passed by quickly and the snow began melting as the end of February drew near. Lupin was too busy for Patronus lessons, and in any case, the full moon was approaching on the last week of February. Harry and Hermione knew Lupin would be feeling too ill that week to do lessons with them.

Another Hogsmeade Day occurred the weekend following the match, but Hermione had been too focused on schoolwork and helping Harry catch up from his previous week of intensive Quidditch practice to remember to ask her mother for a permission slip. So they both put it out of their minds and spent the day researching together to help Hagrid instead.

On the morning of the last Thursday in February, Hedwig brought Harry a note from Hagrid at breakfast. Harry grimaced when he spotted Ron's name on it, in between his and Hermione’s names. He stiffly passed the note to Ron when he’d read it.

_Dear Harry, Ron, and Hermione,_

_How about some tea with me this afternoon after classes let out. I’d really like to see the lot of you!_

_Cheers,  
Hagrid_

Together that afternoon, the three of them made their way down to Hagrid’s hut in awkward silence as they trod across the soggy lawn, carefully picking their way through the patches of melting snow. 

“Righ’ then, got summat ter discuss with you three - particularly you Ron!” began Hagrid when he’d sat them all down and poured everyone some tea.

“Er... what?” said Ron, his ears turning pink, wondering if this had something to do with the fact that he hadn’t been helping Harry and Hermione research for Buckbeak’s hearing since Christmas. But to his dismay, it turned out to be even worse than that.

“Well, fer one thing Ron - I reckon yeh owe Hermione an apology! An’ fer another, yeh oughter take better care o’ your pet.”

Hagrid stood up and reached for an enormous milk jug covered with wire mesh. He removed the mesh and tipped a squealing Scabbers into Ron’s hands. Ron’s face turned white with shock as he glanced at Hermione and Harry. Hermione narrowed her eyes and glared angrily at Ron as Harry breathed a sigh of relief that Hedwig hadn’t eaten Scabbers.

“I’ve spotted the way yeh’ve been behavin’ towards Hermione an’ Harry,” Hagrid continued. “I figured yeh fer better than tha’ Ron. Jus’ thought yeh might care more about yer friends than Rats and Broomsticks!”

Ron stuffed Scabbers into his pocket, his face reddening again. The silence on the way back to the castle after the visit to Hagrid’s was even more uncomfortable than the one on the way down. Before they made it to the massive oak front doors, Ron halted and turned around to face Harry and Hermione, tears streaking his burning cheeks.

“I’m sorry Hermione!” he croaked hoarsely. “I... I was horrid to you! And all for nothing! I... I was totally wrong about Crookshanks eating Scabbers... and... and even if he had, I shouldn’t’ve been so horrible to you about it. Fred and George were right... he is really old.”

“And I’m sorry to you as well Harry!” Ron continued, shuffling nervously and looking at the ground. “I didn’t mean to act like that towards you about the Firebolt... It’s your broom! You can do what you like with it... I dunno what came over me really!”

Harry felt a weight lift from him and smiled at Ron for the first time since Christmas Day. Hermione bit her lip and nodded her acceptance of Ron’s apology, feeling too overwhelmed to trust herself to speak. Harry spoke instead, and Hermione pulled closer to him, giving Ron a little smile.

“Honestly Ron, I’m not that fussed about the broom business,” said Harry cheerfully. “I’m just happy that you finally apologised to Hermione. Come on then - let’s get the Firebolt and you can have a go on it...”

When Harry’s head hit his pillow on the last Thursday of February, he thought that things definitely appeared to be looking up.

Harry was dreaming again, following the silvery white doe and its minty aroma through the forest, his Firebolt slung over his shoulder. A piercing scream wrenched Harry from his peaceful slumber.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHH!!! NOOOOOO!!!”

Harry heard the dormitory door slam and saw Ron’s face, white with terror as he clutched the squealing Scabbers tightly.

“It was Black! I swear!” Ron gasped. “He was standing over me with a knife! OOOOW!!! SCABBERS, NO!” 

Scabbers ran across the floor and darted under a chest of drawers as Ron held his bleeding finger.

**~o0o~**

The entire school was buzzing again the next morning as the castle was searched from top to bottom for Sirius Black. Classes had been canceled for the day, and Neville had received an earful from McGonagall for losing his list of passwords. Sir Cadogan had been sacked, and the Fat Lady had reluctantly returned to her post.

Harry dredged the map which Fred and George had given him from the bottom of his trunk after breakfast.

“I don’t understand though,” Harry muttered as he and Hermione pored over it looking for Black. “If Black was after me, why go after Ron...?”

“And why would he stop attacking just because Ron shouted...?” pondered Hermione, frowning. “Even if he’d got the wrong bed, he could have murdered Ron and then got you and everyone else in the dorm...”

“Exactly Hermione!” Harry nodded. “It doesn’t make any sense... What’s Black _**really**_ after? And he must still be in the castle or on the grounds somewhere, because Honeydukes wasn’t broken into last night... I asked Percy if he’d heard, and he said Dumbledore had already checked if there had been any break-ins in the village last night!”

“Well Black’s obviously not in this part of the castle,” Hermione sighed. “We’re near the Divination classroom. Maybe we should leave before...”

But it was too late; a tall insect-like figure festooned with beads and shawls was already approaching them in the dimly lit corridor. 

“Oh no!” groaned Harry. “Trelawney!”

“Is she alright?” whispered Hermione. “She looks completely out of it...”

“Maybe we should get someone to help her,” said Harry with a shudder when Trelawney’s eyes rolled up into the back of her head. But before they could go for help, a low harsh voice emerged from Trelawney’s mouth, unlike anything they had ever heard from the Divination professor.

_“IT WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT! ... THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT… THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER._

_THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT’S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT… BEFORE MIDNIGHT… THE SERVANT… WILL SET OUT… TO REJOIN… HIS MASTER…”_

Hermione and Harry stood there petrified, rooted to the ground. Then Trelawney trembled, her head fell forward as if asleep. With a snap, her head bobbed up again, her eyes clear as she blinked, peering around the passage in confusion.

“How did I get here?” she muttered. Trelawney suddenly realised that she wasn’t alone in the corridor.

“Oh... Mr Potter! It’s you...” she began. “And Granger,” she concluded coldly, her eyes narrowing. Trelawney’s nostrils flared, then she turned around and stalked away.

“Blimey, that was scary,” said Harry.

“I can’t believe it Harry,” Hermione murmured, her face still a picture of shock. “I think that was a real prophecy!”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I think too. But who is Voldemort’s ‘servant’? For some reason, I don’t think she meant Black! Nothing adds up about him. Like you said, he had every opportunity to kill me last night, and he didn’t!”

They spent the rest of the day mulling over things, into the early evening while Ron regaled everyone who would listen with his harrowing tale. Ron was reveling in his newfound fame when he came across Harry sitting on his bed with Hermione, poring over a map.

“Bloody Hell!” Ron heard Harry gasp. “Look Hermione... look whose name it is!”

“Peter Pettigrew?” squeaked Hermione. “But that’s impossible! He’s supposed to be...”

“Dead... yeah I know!” Harry muttered as the puzzle pieces began to rearrange themselves in his mind.

“Lupin!” said Hermione firmly. “We should tell Lupin! He’ll be able to help sort this all out.” 

Harry nodded in agreement.

“Sort what out?” Ron asked in bewilderment, wondering where the map had come from. “What’s going on?”

“No time to explain,” gasped Harry. “Come with us, and we’ll work it out together.”

Lupin was feeling very ill indeed when he opened the door of his private quarters for his three students. He was stunned beyond belief when he saw the Marauder’s Map, and Harry told him that he’d seen Pettigrew on it. Lupin wondered if he should tell Dumbledore yet. But there were too many uncertainties - everything he had believed for 12 years was turned upside down. The only thing Lupin was fairly certain of now, was that he had a good idea where Black was hiding.

“Come quickly! Follow me...” said Lupin. “I may need your help yet. But I think we can get some things sorted and then go to Dumbledore with it.”

Curious and excited, Harry, Hermione, and Ron, followed Lupin out of the castle and onto the grounds. The sky was dark, thick with clouds covering the moon, and the black silhouettes of the trees swayed ominously in the breeze as they made their way towards the Whomping Willow.

“It’s Scabbers,” gasped Ron, when he saw his rat scampering down the hillside.

“RON, NO!” Lupin shouted as Ron ran and dove for Scabbers. 

Ron beamed happily as he stood up, covered in mud, shoving his squealing Rat into his pocket. His features dropped when a large black dog bounded towards him.

“The Grim!” Ron moaned. 

Before anyone could do anything, the massive hound leapt onto Ron and dragged him towards the Whomping Willow. Lupin groaned when he saw the dog disappear with Ron into a hollow at the bottom of the tree. Already in shock, Harry and Hermione were further confounded to see Crookshanks and Hedwig follow in after Ron and the dog.

“Come on then,” Lupin sighed. “If what I surmise is correct, Ron should be alright. But we should still go in after them.”

As Lupin led Harry and Hermione into the cavernous hollow at the base of the Whomping Willow, and into the dank tunnel beyond, he began to explain, and everything began to fall into place in Harry’s brain.

“Scabbers - _**HE’S**_ Wormtail, isn’t he!” Harry growled, interrupting Lupin. “He’s Pettigrew, and he’s been in hiding as first Percy’s, then Ron’s pet. No _**WONDER**_ Crookshanks hates Scabbers... The shop owner told us...”

“...that he’s part Kneazle,” continued Hermione. “He’s supposed to be a very good judge of character. He must have known all along that Scabbers wasn’t a real rat...”

“...and that means that _**Pettigrew**_ is the real traitor! _**HE’S**_ the one that betrayed my parents!” Harry snarled. “Sirius Black is innocent...”

“...and Pettigrew framed him!” Hermione said furiously as the injustice of it all hit her. “He cut off his own finger to make it look like Black killed him...”

“...and _**then**_ he tried to frame Crookshanks in exactly the same way!” Harry fumed. “He bit off a piece of his own tail and sprinkled around a few of Crookshanks’ cat hairs...”

Professor Lupin gaped in awe at his two students as they worked everything out between themselves. He had only barely finished telling them about how James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew had all become animagi when they were still friends with Lupin at Hogwarts, to keep him company as a werewolf, when Harry and Hermione had interrupted him and begun extrapolating from that point. 

Lupin had already been quite impressed that Harry and Hermione had both managed to work out that he was a werewolf after the essay that Snape had assigned the DADA class. An eerie feeling of deja vu came over Lupin as the hairs rose on the back of his neck. If Harry’s Patronus at the match against Ravenclaw hadn’t been enough to convince Lupin, it was more apparent than ever that Harry was truly James and Lily’s son - and Hermione, she would have given Lily a run for her money. 

“This is the Shrieking Shack,” said Lupin quietly when they reached an opening at the end of the tunnel. “Be careful... Sirius won’t know that we’re on his side yet - that we've worked out who the real traitor was!”

Lupin cautiously led Harry and Hermione through the decrepit house, where they spied the wreckage of the furniture long ago destroyed during Lupin’s many painful transformations. They crept up a set of stairs, wands in hand, but a creaking floorboard gave them away as they pushed open the door.

“Expelliarmus!” Black croaked, pointing Ron’s wand at the three of them. 

Black caught all three wands in his hand, peering at the newcomers in trepidation. Harry spied Crookshanks, purring as he perched on the top of a four poster bed, curled around Hedwig. The two animals kept a watchful eye as the scene unfolded. Ron was lying on the floor, his leg jutting at an odd angle, clearly broken. Ron had groaned when Black disarmed his friends and Lupin, hoping for a rescue which now seemed unlikely.

“Harry, Hermione - Black - He’s the dog - he’s an animagus...” Ron gasped, wincing in pain as he tried to sit up properly.

“We know!” said Harry, “But it’s okay Ron! It’s not what you think...” 

“Sirius - it’s alright!” Lupin said hoarsely. “You can put the wand down! We know you’re not the traitor. We know that Ron’s rat is really Peter Pettigrew!”

Black’s eyes widened and his gaunt features broke into a grin. Ron looked on in horror. 

“You’re _**barking!**_ ” Ron moaned. “Scabbers has been in my family for...”

“Twelve years,” said Lupin gently. 

“Too long for any rat to live!” snarled Harry, bitterly kicking himself for not working it out sooner. 

He’d known all along that something was weird about Scabbers and done nothing. Harry wished that Crookshanks or Hedwig really had eaten the cretinous little vermin. 

“It’s alright Harry,” said Hermione, seeing the look on his face and knowing exactly what he was thinking. “There’s no way we could have known that Scabbers was really Pettigrew before. We didn’t have enough information th...”

 **“HE’S NOT PETTIGREW!”** Ron roared angrily, staggering to his feet. 

Ron surprised Black and briefly overpowered him, slugging the older wizard on the jaw. Black crumpled to the floor and all of the wands he was holding fell, rolling under the bed as Ron collapsed on top of him. 

Scabbers began squealing and tried to escape from Ron’s pocket, but Ron managed to grab him as Hedwig and Crookshanks both made themselves ready to pounce.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” said a new voice in the room, thin and icy. Ron felt a wave of relief, never happier to see Snape in his life. 

“I was bringing you your potion Lupin, when I saw you leaving the castle...” Snape trailed off, examining the scene coldly. 

This was the last thing Snape had expected to find - Lupin apparently delivering Potter to Sirius Black. He and Lupin were supposed to be on the same team - protecting Potter. As far as Snape knew, Lupin had been horrified when Black had turned traitor all those years ago. 

Not that there had ever been any love lost between Severus Snape and Sirius Black - but it had been as big of a surprise to Snape as it had been to everyone else when it turned out that Black had been the one who had sold out the Potters to the Dark Lord.

And now, there he stood with the Granger girl - the boy that Severus had sworn an oath to protect in an effort to pay back a blood debt for his own role in the Potters’ deaths - blocking his path to Black and Lupin. It was time to finish this!

“Stand aside Potter!” snapped the Potions Master as he glowered at Harry and the Granger girl.

“No sir! _**Please!**_ You don’t understand...” the boy peered anxiously at Snape with those all-too familiar green eyes. “It’s not what you...”

“I understand very well indeed Potter...” Snape interjected forcefully, shooting Black and Lupin a cold glare before returning his gaze to Harry. Something about those green eyes caught in his throat, as they often had since the incident with the troll in the castle. 

“...Harry...” Snape almost choked on the name. “...Black... he’s manipulating you. Just like he’s convinced Lupin! And when he’s convinced you - you’ll be...” Severus could barely bring himself to say it.

“Severus... I beg of you! Please listen...” Lupin pleaded.

 **“SILENCE!”** roared Snape as a vein throbbed in his temple, “After all this time... _**You**_... of all people! How can you possibly believe anything Black...?”

“It’s Pettigrew!” the Granger girl interrupted shrilly, her face ablaze with fiery determination. “Ron’s rat... He’s Peter Pettigrew!”

Severus Snape halted, his pallid demeanor becoming even paler as his eyes widened in shock! Pettigrew, here? Alive? Snape’s world tilted, and he felt unsteady on his feet.

“Rubbish!” howled Ron as he gripped his squealing rodent tightly, his joyful hope that Snape would rescue him beginning to fade. “Professor... don’t listen to them - they’re all completely mental...”

Severus ignored the dunderheaded Weasley boy. Of all the people in the shack, there were only two whom Severus was reasonably certain of. Remus Lupin could have been compromised by his sentimentality - all too ready to see the best in an old friend. 

Severus Snape peered at the boy with the messy black hair and green eyes again - the boy whom Snape could only see as his old arrogant, strutting arch-rival when the boy had first arrived at Hogwarts. But Severus had seen someone else the night that Quirrell had let the troll into the castle. Severus had seen someone he’d never expected to see in the boy who looked so much like James Potter. 

Severus had seen someone that he owed everything to - someone he owed his life to. He had seen the person that he had driven away when he needed her most - someone that Snape knew he’d lost forever when he’d lashed out in his own pain and anger. 

When Snape had looked in Harry’s eyes as Harry had comforted the Granger girl and faced down the Weasley boy - when Harry had held out kindness to Granger as the price of forgiveness to the Dunderhead - Severus had seen _**her**_. Severus had seen Lily!

Snape couldn’t help but continue to see James Potter in Harry, but since that night, he’d seen additional glimpses of Lily in Harry’s eyes. In hopes of seeing even more of her, Severus had restrained himself, tamping down on his long-standing bitterness and hate for James, not always as successfully as he would have liked. 

But Severus had been rewarded for his efforts, and Harry had shown the same talent in Potions as his mother when left to his own devices. And Severus had seen Harry’s valiant attempts to restrain himself with the oafish son of Lucius Malfoy. 

Severus had witnessed Harry’s protectiveness and kindness towards Granger - a girl whose intellect and spirit were easily a match for Lily’s. It was uncanny that they should have found each other. Seeing the two of them together had stirred something in Severus which he’d not felt since the day that Lily had been murdered - Hope. 

The shame that Severus felt for having heaped abuse on Harry and Granger for much of their first year at Hogwarts was almost unbearable. Severus knew he didn’t deserve Lily’s forgiveness, but he hoped that he could yet earn some small measure of it.

Snape continued to stare at Harry with his own glittering dark eyes as the rat continued squealing in the Dunderhead’s grubby little paws. 

“Potte... Harry - What Granger said...?”

“It’s true sir...” Harry gasped hopefully as his heart thudded against the wall of his chest so hard that he was sure everyone could hear it. He couldn’t believe that Snape had called him Harry - not once, but twice. “Professor, I _**swear!**_ It’s true...”

Sirius and Remus glanced at each other uncertainly! Did they dare hope? Snape’s cloak billowed as he whirled around to face Ron again.

 **“ _Weasley!_ ”** barked Snape, his eyes full of cold fury. “Show me the Rat.... **NOW!** ”

“B...but sir...” Ron whimpered.

“Just do it!”

With shaking hands, Ron held out Scabbers as Snape pointed his wand. The Potion Master’s nostrils flared as he uttered the incantation.

“Homorphus!” 

Ron moaned, certain that something horrible was going to happen to Scabbers. His face fell in horror as the rat grew heavy and flung itself out of his hand in a vain attempt to scurry away. The rodent grew larger and changed shape.

“Hello, **_Wormtail!_** ” Severus snarled. “So it _**was**_ you after all... I had heard rumours from the others that you had approached the Dark Lord - But then, after Black... I began to doubt!”

“S....S...Snape!” stammered the balding, slovenly wizard with the long pointy nose and yellowing teeth. “You m...must believe me....” Pettigrew fell into silence when Snape’s cold, glittering dark eyes bored into his own.

“No! I don’t think I do...” hissed Snape quietly after a few moments had passed. He had seen more than enough. “Death is too good for you. Perhaps the Dementor’s kiss...”

Sirius Black and Lupin grinned at each other, both of them feeling a sense of elation as the last person in the world they had ever expected to side with them on anything took them at Harry’s word. 

Harry retrieved everyone’s wands from under the bed, his hands shaking. He and Hermione picked up Ron - who winced in pain, still horrified and slightly disbelieving that his pet rat was really a creepy wizard. Together they followed Lupin and Black, as they in turn followed Snape, who was leading them all out through the tunnel with his wand-tip pressed under Peter Pettigrew's double-chin.

“Just make me do it - I dare you!” Snape hissed at Wormtail. Snape caught Black grinning at him.

“I still hate you!” Severus muttered.

“Of course you do!” beamed Sirius. 

“But... given the circumstances, I _**suppose**_ I can see my way to supporting your full pardon!” Severus concluded with a weary sigh.

The full moon peeked from behind a cloud when everyone emerged from under the Whomping Willow. Snape groaned, as did Lupin and Black! Harry and Hermione peered at each other anxiously - if Lupin hadn’t taken his potion tonight...

Ron gawked, not sure what was going on. All he knew was that he was in bloody pain.

“Lupin’s a werewolf?” he squeaked miserably when Lupin began to transform.

“Get Weasley to the castle!” Snape shouted at Harry and Hermione. “Black and I shall deal with this...”

Pettigrew slipped out of Snape’s grasp, taking advantage of the distraction, and began to shrink as he cackled gleefully. 

**“ _NO!_ ”** Snape roared, firing a green bolt of lightning at the fleeing rat. The spell missed, turning a boulder into rubble instead. 

Lupin howled in agony, his body only half-transformed as he still had some potion coursing through him from the previous night’s dose. He lashed out blindly, briefly unable to distinguish friend from foe, knocking Snape and Black to the ground. Horrified when he realised what he had done, Lupin bounded into the woods. Ron fainted, collapsing next to Snape and Sirius Black. 

As Snape began to regain consciousness, he felt the freezing chill in his bones and he knew they were here - Dementors! 

Harry began to panic and Hermione shook with fright. There appeared to be nearly two hundred Dementors swarming above them, and the moonlight was swallowed whole as the icy blackness closed in. 

The wraiths dove towards the wizards, taking deep rattling breaths. Several lowered their hoods as they glided like smoke towards Sirius and Harry, hungry for the feast they had been promised. Fear clutched at Snape’s heart as his Worst Memory began to replay itself. Not again! He couldn’t bear to see Lily’s cold corpse again!

“Hermione,” Harry managed to gasp when he saw Black and Ron, both still unconscious, and Snape, who was apparently too lost in some past terror to do anything, “We’re the only ones who can do this... Together, now!”

Hermione nodded tearfully, and they both shakily pointed their wands at the wraiths swirling around them as they held their best memories at the forefront of their minds. 

**“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”** Harry and Hermione bellowed as one as they held onto each other tightly.

Luminous pulses of silvery light flooded the night sky as two fully formed Corporeal Patronuses erupted from their wands, driving away the darkness and charging down the horde of shrieking wraiths. The pulses of light continued to throb as the Dementors all fled, soaring away from the grounds of Hogwarts. 

Their work completed, the ethereal glowing entities trotted back towards Harry and Hermione, pawing at the ground with their ghostly hooves. Harry recognised one from his dreams - the other one with antlers, he presumed to be his own. Slowly their Patronuses faded away as Harry and Hermione lowered their wands.

Both still trembling, clinging to one another, overwhelmed with emotion, their lips met. 

The kiss was deep and long, fingers caressing messy black and bushy tawny-brown hair, hands pressed into the small of their backs. Hermione lost herself to the kiss, and Harry never wanted it to end, but after some time, their lips gradually - wetly - parted. 

They both blushed furiously when they realised that Snape was staring at them with shock on his glistening face. 

Severus was stunned beyond belief at what he had witnessed - the power of those Patroni - driving away nearly two hundred Dementors. And he was mortified to find his own face wet with tears when Potter - Harry - and the Granger girl turned around to look at him. But Severus couldn’t help himself and the tears continued to leak. He’d seen **_her_** again - not just in Harry’s green eyes - but in Granger’s Patronus - the Silver Doe.

**~o0o~**

“Yes... yes of course!” gasped Cornelius Fudge after hearing Severus Snape’s recounting of events, and bearing witness to a Veritaserum questioning of Sirius Black. “Amelia, issue a full pardon of Black immediately...”

“Already done Cornelius,” said Amelia Bones as she stamped the Ministry Seal on the Pardon form sitting on her desk.

“And what of my Care of Magical Creatures Professor’s Hippogriff - the one known as Buckbeak?” asked Dumbledore politely.

“The charges shall be vacated immediately,” Fudge replied as he dabbed the sweat from his brow with a pinstriped hanky. Three Dementor attacks on Harry Potter, and Dementors disobeying direct orders from the Ministry! It was simply too horrifying to contemplate what that might signify!

“Lucius can go to hell as far as I’m concerned!” Fudge muttered darkly.


	12. A Light in the Dark: Afterglow

“He’s not what you expected, is he Severus... !?”

“No... he is not,” Snape responded stiffly, after a pause. “When he first arrived...” Snape’s pallid features flushed and he swallowed uncomfortably, unable to bring himself to say more.

“You saw James Potter!” The Headmaster’s clear blue eyes twinkled as he regarded the Potions professor. “So what changed, might I ask?” 

Dumbledore had a feeling he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear Severus Snape say it for himself. Snape was silent for nearly a full minute before responding, his flaring nostrils the only sign of emotion.

“I... I saw Lily - in his eyes,” he said so quietly, it was almost a whisper.

“Yes! Harry has his mother’s eyes,” Dumbledore nodded, a sense of satisfaction filling him. “And I daresay, that in many respects, he is more like her at the same age, than he is like his father... though he no doubt has his father’s talent for quidditch, and perhaps a certain degree of his impetuousness!” 

The Headmaster had seen the gradual change in Severus Snape since Harry’s first year, and he was pleased. Though the outcome of the events surrounding Sirius Black’s pardon had led to a potential problem, Dumbledore supposed that they would find other ways around it. Severus appeared to be thinking along similar lines.

“Unfortunately, I let the Rat - Pettigrew... he escaped!” Snape muttered. “If he does return to the Dark Lord and finds a way to restore him... I am finished as a spy! Voldemort will never accept me now. I surely let too much slip regarding my true allegiance...”

“Undoubtedly true...” Dumbledore sighed, but his eyes continued to twinkle warmly. “We shall simply have to find other means of keeping ourselves informed of Voldemort’s plans and movements when he eventually returns to Britain.” 

“In the meantime, do not trouble yourself Severus. For the moment at least, the Malfoys still believe you to be one of theirs, and you have done very well indeed... I could not be happier at the turn of events! Sirius Black is a free man thanks to you, and Harry and Miss Granger are safe and sound... as are Remus and the Weasley boy!”

“They saved my life! ... Potter, Granger...” Snape interjected, nearly whispering, his eyes distant. “They saved all of our lives. I have no doubt that once the Dementors had finished feasting on Black and Pott... _**Harry**_ \- they would have not been able to resist temptation... they would have taken the souls of us all!”

Severus Snape was surprised at himself. The irony was not lost on him that yet another Potter had saved his life, but this felt wholly unlike being “saved” by his arch-rival at Hogwarts from a potentially deadly pranking. This time Severus felt no bitterness, no sense of humiliation, only a profound regret for what might have been.

Slowly, Snape and the Headmaster got to their feet, both worn from their late night at the Ministry as they made their way from Dumbledore’s office to the Great Hall for breakfast.

**~o0o~**

Harry blinked as the cheerful morning sun blazed through the window, wondering briefly at the fact that his dreams had all been peaceful after the terrors of the previous evening. Then he felt someone stirring in his arms, and saw a blur of gold reflecting from the tawny tresses strewn across his shoulder, tickling his chin, and it all flooded back.

Harry was in the Hospital Wing again, snuggling with his Hermione as Madam Pomfrey hadn’t had the heart to separate them, both still dressed in the clothes they had worn the night before. A curtain was drawn around the bed which they shared, and their nightstand was strewn with chocolate wrappers and empty vials of calming draught. 

Harry pressed his lips against the bushy head on his shoulder, and before he could stop himself he whispered, “I love you Hermione!”

Hermione stirred again and Harry had a strong urge to kiss her as he had last night. But he restrained himself, suddenly feeling anxious. What if last night had been a fluke brought on by a release of their pent up terror after the Dementor Swarm had fled? What if Hermione really was just his best friend? Harry didn’t want what he had with Hermione to ever end, but he needed to know exactly what it was before he allowed himself to kiss her like _**that**_ again.

Hermione sighed contentedly as she slowly drifted into consciousness, Harry’s arms encircling her. She hoped Madam Pomfrey would let them stay in the Hospital Wing all weekend surrounded by their curtain. 

Then she heard him. It had been such a small whisper, that for a moment Hermione was afraid it was the remnant of a dream - an echo of the night that Harry had uttered those same words in Diagon Alley. But Hermione could still feel the sensation of Harry’s lips pressed against her hair, and the quickening of Harry’s pulse under the palm of her hand which lay upon his chest - and she knew it was true. Harry had said it again - with meaningful intent. Giddily, Hermione fully awoke.

Harry was startled when Hermione suddenly moved and her radiant face, framed in tumbling messy ringlets, hovered above his own, her brown eyes flashing golden in the morning sun.

“I love you too Harry!” she whispered. 

Before Harry realised what was happening, Hermione’s lips were intertwined heatedly with his own, her fingers tangled in his hair. Instinctively, Harry’s hands clasped her sides as Hermione leaned over him, and he lost himself to the soaring elation within, his angst fleeing like Dementors on the wind. Harry grinned at Hermione who was giggling when their lips wetly parted.

“Hermione,” he said in a blissful daze, “...does this.... does this mean that it’s real? ... That we really _**are**_ boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“It does if you want it to Harry...” Hermione responded, nodding, peering hopefully into Harry’s iridescent green eyes.

“Yeah... er... I’d really like that Hermione!” said Harry, unable to wipe the grin off his face. 

Clicking footsteps and the wheel of a trolley told them both that Madam Pomfrey was approaching, and Hermione quickly withdrew to a position which hopefully appeared less compromising. 

Pomfrey took one look at the flushed faces and the unsuccessfully hidden cheeriness of her favourite patients, and had a very good idea what they’d been getting up to. Needless to say, she managed to feign a business-like demeanor much better than they as she bustled in and drew their curtains back. 

“No doubt Mr Weasley will wake when he smells breakfast. I would suggest that Miss Granger take the hospital bed next to yours Mr Potter, before he does awaken,” said Madam Pomfrey pointedly, then her features softened. 

“Mr Weasley’s leg has healed splendidly, not requiring an administration of Skele-gro. He ought to be able to leave the ward by lunchtime. But after facing two hundred Dementors, I’d like to keep my eye on you both through the weekend,” she concluded with a knowing look.

Harry and Hermione couldn’t help themselves and both began giggling as Pomfrey departed, leaving the breakfast tray behind. Sure enough, as the giddy pair dug into the eggs and bacon, sausages, crumpets and porridge, Ron awoke in a bed on the other side of the ward, sniffing the air hungrily.

“Wh...what’s going on?” Ron groaned blearily, his leg feeling sore and stiff. “What happened? Why are we here?” Then bits of last night began to slide back into place in his brain. “Where’s Black? What happened to Lupin?” 

Ron peered at Harry and Hermione in puzzlement as Pomfrey bustled back into the ward wheeling another cart full of breakfast for him.

**~o0o~**

“Wait, so Black is free now?” said a wide-awake, happily fed, but still bewildered Ron after they had all finished breakfast. He goggled at his friends as they recounted the events of last night, telling him the bits that he’d missed, and those that he'd forgotten in his blur of pain.

“Yeah...” Harry nodded, also filling in the bits that Lupin had told him about Sirius during Patronus lessons. “Dumbledore and Snape took him to London to be pardoned after we got back to the castle. Before they left, Sirius invited me to live with him when I’m not staying at the Dursleys - he’s my godfather - he and Lupin were my father’s best friends in school. I’m going to visit him at Easter after he gets out of St Mungo’s.”

Ron stared at Harry slackjawed, still having trouble contemplating that a deranged mass-murderer really wasn’t a killer, and that he was actually Harry’s godfather. Not to mention that Lupin was actually a werewolf. Then there was the business with the creepy, slovenly wizard who had been his pet rat. Ron shuddered in horror, remembering that he’d let Scabbers sleep in his bed.

“And Scabbers... er... Pettigrew I mean... he really _**was**_ the killer then?” Ron moaned. “What happened to him?”

“Yes! He really was the killer!” Hermione said in a slightly cold tone. “The one who betrayed Harry’s parents...”

“But unfortunately he escaped when Lupin turned into a werewolf and then you fainted,” she said a bit more gently, recovering herself. Ron had apologised for blaming Crookshanks and blowing up at her after all, and it wasn’t his fault that his rat had really been an evil wizard. 

“And after that, two hundred Dementors attacked you all! You would not be sitting here alive Mr Weasley, if it were not for these two...” said a warm new voice in the hospital wing. 

Everyone spun around to face Dumbledore who had somehow managed to sneak up on the three students congregated at Ron Weasley’s hospital bed. Ron’s eyes widened when he realised what the Headmaster was saying.

“Two... two hundred D...Dementors....? ...attacked us?” stammered Ron. He glanced at Harry and Hermione who both averted their eyes, looking more embarrassed than anything.

“Indeed they did Mr Weasley... And it is thanks to the courage of Harry and Miss Granger, and their dedication to hard work, that they were able to summon their Patroni to repel all of the Dementors... and saved the lives of every last one of you.”

Harry gulped; he had been unsure of how to tell Ron about that bit without sounding like a boastful prat. And truth be told, Harry was still terrified that they might have all ended up as soulless husks in a state of living death - if it weren’t for how he and Hermione felt about each other. 

Hermione let out a sigh of relief and peered gratefully at Dumbledore. She had been feeling equally reticent about explaining that bit to Ron after the way he’d sniped at her at Christmas for liking Harry.

**~o0o~**

Draco Malfoy was as infuriated as his father when classes resumed on Monday. He was so angry that he almost crumpled up and threw in the fireplace the magic parchment that they employed to communicate with each other quickly. But he restrained himself, knowing it would just annoy his father to have to send him another parchment by Owl Post.

And Draco was already smarting from the dressing down he’d received from his father for continuing to get slightly lesser marks than the Mudblood and Potter in many subjects - especially potions. He reread the offending lines again.

_Severus has warned me that your marks are slipping due to your inattentiveness in class. How do you think it makes the Malfoy Apothecary look when an inferior breed outshines the son of the owner of the establishment? It simply won’t do Draco..._

Draco was used to being pampered and spoiled, and he aimed to keep it that way. He glowered again at the message on the piece of parchment informing him that their petition to have the Hippogriff destroyed had been summarily dismissed by the Ministry. And Draco knew that his father was also enraged about something else which had gone wrong, but the elder Malfoy had kept that to himself. 

Draco wondered if the bizarre Ministry release in the Sunday edition of the _Daily Prophet_ regarding the Pardon of Sirius Black had anything to do with his father’s distraction, but he couldn’t for the life of himself fathom what it might be. Draco also considered the baffling possibility that Potter and the Mudblood had been involved in Black’s Pardon - but that made no sense to him.

Potter and the Mudblood must have had something to do with getting the Hippogriff and that Oaf who taught Care of Magical Creatures off the hook though. Potter seemed to have that stupid Minister wrapped around his little finger, and the Mudblood was clearly the brains of the operation. Draco wished for the thousandth time that the Basilisk had killed them both. If his father couldn’t come up with another plan for ridding Hogwarts of Mudbloods and Mudblood-lovers, he’d have to come up with one of his own.

“One day Potter! ... ” Draco muttered to himself, eyes narrowed in bitter hate. “One day I’ll see you and your pet Mudblood both dead!”

**~o0o~**

The weeks following that tempestuous night passed quickly and gloriously for Harry, for the second year running it appeared that he’d have a few peaceful months of spring at Hogwarts free of someone trying to murder him or Hermione. And to top it off, Hermione was officially his girlfriend.

Not that either of them had made any sort of announcement; they hadn’t hung any banners or advertised in the _Daily Prophet_. And they were both still anxious about what Ron’s reaction might be if he knew, and tried their best to act as if nothing had changed around him. 

But at least _**they**_ both knew it - as apparently did most of the other students in Third Year and above (not to mention many of the more precociously aware Second Years), which really was no different than things had been before, if Lee Jordan’s pronouncement during the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw quidditch match had been any indication. Though it was clear that eventually Ron would have to be told if he couldn't work it out for himself.

In any case, school had continued much as it had been, but without the threat of a mass-murderer hanging over him. Harry was speechless when Lupin had let him keep the Marauder’s Map, much to Hermione’s own surprise.

“But it’s best to keep this between yourself and Hermione, Harry,” said Lupin with a wry smile. “Dumbledore knows about it now of course, but he seems to be quite keen that you have it... He seems to feel as I do - which is that along with your Invisibility Cloak - this should give you a potential advantage against any possible future threats at Hogwarts. And as you are the only scion of a Marauder, you really are the ‘heir apparent’ after all.”

“That’s brilliant Harry!” Hermione had squeaked after Lupin left them both to it. 

She was thrilled that Lupin had offered a sensible reason for Harry to keep it - especially with Dumbledore’s express permission - as she had been feeling very guilty for encouraging Harry not to turn it in after they’d had such a lovely time in Hogsmeade together.

“Of course we won’t need it for our next Hogsmeade trip,” she had concluded with a grin.

“You got the permission slip from your mum then?” said Harry.

“Hedwig brought it back this morning!”

“Excellent!” beamed Harry, giving Hermione a hug. 

“But what about Ron?” he suddenly thought aloud. “He sort of knows about the map now... and I feel a bit guilty because Fred and George gave it to me to take you out instead of giving it to him.”

“Well... that’s alright if he knows about it now that you’re friends again,” said Hermione with a placating expression. “And in any case, you heard Lupin, it really does belong to you because your father is one of the people who made it. If Ron ever asks how you got it, that should hopefully be enough to convince him that it’s rightfully yours.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right! Thanks Hermione!” Harry grinned again, feeling a bit better about that. “By the way... what about Easter?”

“Mum said I can go to London and stay with you and your godfather,” Hermione squealed gleefully. “She says it’s alright as one of our professors is going to be staying with us too... And she’s going to come up to London herself for a few days to see me... to see us! She wants to meet you properly this time.”

Harry was almost beside himself with happiness as the Easter Holidays approached. Ron was a bit disappointed that he hadn’t been invited to London too, but not much, as the prospect of staying with Sirius Black and a werewolf - even if it was Professor Lupin - was slightly terrifying to him. 

A week before the holidays, late in the afternoon, something that Ron found very cheering turned up as he was playing Exploding Snap with Harry, Hermione, and Neville at a table near one of the Common Room windows.

“Harry,” said Hermione suddenly, peering over his shoulder, “There‘s an adorable little owl outside the window.”

Sure enough, a tiny little owl barely bigger than a Snitch was doing its best to stay aloft, flapping its weeny little wings mightily as it carried a letter much too big for it. Harry chortled as he let the fluffy, minuscule bird in and it dropped the letter in front of him, appearing very pleased with itself. Crookshanks looked up at the minute owl lazily from Hermione’s lap with an apparent grin on his face, purring.

“Oooh, what a sweet little owl,” said Parvati when Lavender pointed it out with a squeak of delight.

“Who’s the letter from Harry?” Ron asked curiously.

“It’s from Sirius,” gasped Harry when he had torn open the envelope.

“The man who was pardoned? He’s your godfather isn’t he Harry?” asked Neville.

“Yeah,” Harry grinned. “He’s out of St Mungo’s now...”

“Read it aloud Harry,” said Hermione excitedly.

_Dear Harry,_

_Thank you for your letters. St Mungo’s released me yesterday as I’m feeling much better. Besides, I think some of the nurses are probably very glad to see the back of me. I’m very happy to hear that Hermione is able to come too, and look forward to seeing you both under much nicer circumstances, and meeting her mother as well. Don’t worry, our chaperone Remus will make sure that I’m on my best behaviour!_

_It was indeed me who sent you the Firebolt. Crookshanks brought your owl, Hedwig, to me, and I sent her to Spintwitches in Hogsmeade with the order for it in your name, which also included a bank security code known only to the Gringotts goblins, giving them permission to release the gold to the shop from my own vaults. Please consider it 13 birthdays worth of presents from your godfather._

_I must apologise for the fright I gave you when you left your Uncle’s home last year. I had only thought to catch a glimpse of you before returning back to the north, but I think the sight of me rather startled you._

_I also feel rather badly for inadvertently breaking your friend Ron’s leg, and it’s my fault that he no longer has a rat. Please tell Ron that the owl is for him, to make up for his loss. And as you have indicated in your last letter that he is without a broom, I am enclosing a voucher which will be good at any Quidditch supply shop for the latest model of Cleansweep._

_I hope that makes up in part for injuring him, and surely scaring the living daylights out of him. Please tell him that he also has a mean right-hook._

_I can’t wait till I see you and Hermione with Remus next week._

_Sirius_

“I can’t believe it!” said Ron hoarsely, utterly confounded and thrilled all at once. “An owl and a new broom? ... I can’t believe it!” Ron repeated. He peered at Harry with an embarrassed look in his eye as his ears turned pink, not sure how he felt about Harry mentioning the broom situation, wondering how much he’d told Sirius. 

“Thanks Harry! That’s really nice of your godfather! Erm... I... er... I actually do have an ancient Shooting Star at home - it used to be Bill’s... It just wasn’t... er... worthbringingt’Hogwarts... ” he mumbled.

“I remember it,” said Harry with a grin, “The one you said was slower than passing butterflies when Hermione and I stayed with you the summer before Second Year. It’s alright Ron - now you’ll have something good to practice on over the summer and to bring to Hogwarts so you can try-out for the team next year.”

“Yeah... yeah, I will!” Ron beamed as the excitement at the idea of having a brand new broom all of his own finally really took hold. “Tell your godfather thanks from me... and for the owl too!”

Hermione almost felt like bursting with happiness and giving Harry a big kiss for being so sweet. But it was getting on for dinnertime, and they didn’t really have time to look for somewhere private, so she settled for squeezing Harry’s hand under the table.

**~o0o~**

Number 12 Grimmauld Place was dark and gloomy when they first arrived, but after giving Lupin a big hug, Sirius assured Harry and Hermione that they would be going out for dinner. Sirius wanted to treat them all to one of London’s best muggle restaurants, but Lupin suggested they might all feel more comfortable someplace a bit less upscale.

“Alright then Remus,” Sirius agreed with an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes at Lupin before giving Harry a wink. “But make no mistake, on Easter we will most certainly be dining in London’s finest establishment.” 

“That sounds like a very reasonable compromise Sirius,” said Lupin with a wry smile. 

“So what do you fancy Harry?” Sirius asked eagerly. “Burgers? Fish and Chips? A nice hot curry? Chinese? Italian? French?”

“Er...” said Harry, feeling a bit overwhelmed. 

Except for the few weeks he’d spent in Diagon Alley with Hermione, Harry really wasn’t accustomed to eating out. The Dursleys had nearly always left him locked in the cupboard under the stairs, unless they were going to be gone on an all-day outing or longer, in which case they left him with Mrs Figg. The wizarding pubs and cafes in Diagon Alley had all had very tasty food, but he didn’t think he recalled ever seeing Burgers or Fish and Chips on their menus, much less anything else that Sirius had mentioned. 

Hermione could see that Harry was feeling anxious and whispered in his ear, squeezing his hand. They held a hushed conversation as Sirius and Remus exchanged knowing glances. Finally Harry nodded and grinned nervously as Hermione spoke for him 

“Mr Black...” Hermione piped up.

“Please... call me Sirius!” 

“Er... Sirius, would Burgers _**and**_ Fish and Chips be out of the question? It’s just... Harry’s never really had anything like that out before.”

“I know just the place Hermione! Harry... you're sure to like it!” Sirius beamed. “And remind me to have a chat with your Aunt and Uncle will you? I know you have to pop back there for the first part of summer, Dumbledore spoke to me very briefly in a private ward at St Mungo’s before heading back to Hogwarts that night...”

“Oh! That’s alright Sirius...” Harry’s grin suddenly became more genuine as his excitement overruled his anxiety. “That situation should be all fixed since Fudge emancipated me! The Dursleys won’t be able to push me around anymore...”

“Really?” gasped Sirius. “Hmmm... they did more than push you around a bit from what I’ve gathered. But Remus, you never mentioned Harry’s emancipation... nor did Dumbledore!”

“Slipped my mind! Sorry Sirius, I really haven’t had a proper opportunity for a good chat with you yet,” said Lupin, a bit misty-eyed. “Dumbledore’s really been working hard behind the scenes to fix things for Harry since his First Year. And the emancipation was brought about in part in case he needed to protect himself from _**you**_ outside of Hogwarts - or any other apparent followers of Voldemort - as much as it was to protect himself from his relatives at home...” 

“Ah, I see!” Sirius grinned again. “Excellent! That makes perfect sense then... Good for Dumbledore and Fudge! Well, let’s be off shall we?”

Hermione smiled as she watched Harry cheerily polishing off a cheeseburger, sprinkling a piece of fish with some malt vinegar before wolfing it, and washing it all down with a gulp of Coke. Harry dipped a chip in some ketchup and grinned back at her. Sirius felt a surge of elation when he saw how much Harry was enjoying himself; he shot Remus and Hermione grateful looks for their suggestions.

By the time they returned to Number 12, Harry was happy, tired, and full. Sirius gave Harry and Hermione bedrooms right next to each other, but kept them chatting until he spied Lupin stepping into the parlour below for a drink.

“Right then you two... this is just for show!” Sirius chuckled. “When Hermione’s mum comes to visit, you and Lupin will need to be able to tell her with a straight face that you both have your own rooms. But I know what a dingy, creepy place this is - and I’ve seen how you both are together...” 

Hermione bit her lip and blushed as Harry turned slightly pink.

“I expect you’ll both be wanting a bit of familiar company at nights. These are adjoining rooms and I’m giving Hermione the key to the door in between them - so it’s entirely up to her. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Sirius concluded with a wink at Harry. 

“Er... thanks Sirius,” said Harry awkwardly, his face reddening even more. He felt a wave of relief though, as the idea of sleeping all alone in a strange new place wasn’t very appealing to him.

“I’ll see you in a minute Harry,” giggled Hermione when Sirius went back downstairs to join Remus for a nightcap. 

Harry glanced around his room as he changed into pyjamas after cleaning his teeth. It really wasn’t as horrible as Sirius had been making it out to be. Obviously Sirius had done some cleaning and dusting in the week and a bit that he’d been out of hospital. And the old-fashioned furnishings were actually quite nice, despite the much darker colour scheme than he was used to in Gryffindor Tower. The woods were nearly all ebony, excepting a few mahogany flourishes, and the bedclothes and hangings on the four-poster were black with gold trimmings.

Nonetheless, Harry sighed with relief when Hermione appeared in the doorway between their two rooms in her dressing gown and nightie. He was taken with a heady mix of joy and trepidation as she clambered into bed beside him, blushing shyly. This was the first time that they’d been in a private bed together since Diagon Alley, and he felt awkward all over again.

“Thanks for inviting me Harry,” said Hermione, giving him a minty kiss on the lips before snuggling under one of his arms and curling one of her own around him. “I had a good time tonight, and your godfather is really nice. He’s funny... nothing at all like a mass-murdering maniac!” she concluded with a nervous little giggle. 

“I’m glad you’re here with me Hermione,” said Harry as he began to relax. “Sirius was right to tell me to invite some friends... I really like him, but I _**do**_ need someone familiar with me. I... I don’t really know Sirius well yet after all. I almost invited Ron as well, and I considered inviting Neville, but.. but I just wanted to be with you!”

“It’s alright Harry...” said Hermione, giving him another kiss. “I just wanted to be with you too.” 

Harry closed his eyes, enjoying the quiet, feeling a surging rush of warmth as he snuggled with Hermione, soon drifting into a peaceful slumber.

**~o0o~**

The Easter Holidays flew by quickly, but Harry and Hermione enjoyed nearly all of it. They only went to Diagon Alley with Sirius and Lupin on the first full day of the holidays to exchange some gold for muggle money. Most of the holidays were spent doing all the things in muggle London which Hermione had been dying to share with Harry.

Harry had never once been to the cinema, the theatre, or museums, or had picnics in the park. He had never been to a festival, a concert, or a street market. Nor had he ever shopped in muggle shops for records, books, comics, or brand new clothes. And never had he the opportunity to sample the cuisine of many different cultures from around the world. Yet he’d done all of those things during the two weeks of the Easter Holidays with Hermione, Sirius, and Lupin. 

Harry and Hermione had both been surprised that Number 12 had a record player, old fashioned though it was, because as far as they had been taught, electrical equipment didn’t function properly around magic.

“It’s like the Wizard Wireless,” Lupin explained. “There really isn’t any electronics involved in the actual operation. They operate entirely on magic.”

“I wonder though, could a television, or other muggle equipment that usually needs electricity be charmed to operate with magic instead?” Hermione asked, biting her lip pensively.

“I believe so,” Sirius responded. “It’s not a common practice in Britain or Europe, but I think a few wizards do. And I believe I’ve heard that it’s quite a popular practice among American wizards...”

“But one must be careful,” Lupin added. “There are certain laws in Britain, and many countries, regarding the charming of items commonly used by muggles in order to remain in compliance with International Secrecy Statutes...”

“Bah! Arbitrary Ministry rules,” Sirius snorted, “designed to favour certain families and their businesses. There are plenty of common artifacts that muggles use which are legally charmed to fit the needs of wizards - brooms, trunks, and tents to name just a few. Flying Carpets are illegal here, but perfectly legal in other countries... It’s got very little to do with complying with International Statutes...”

“Sirius does have a very good point,” said Lupin with a chuckle. “Still, one does need to be aware of Ministry laws, and at the very least, be careful to keep things charmed for personal use out of muggle hands.”

“Yeah, I suppose so... Ron’s father, Mr Weasley, works for the misuse of muggle artifacts office,” said Harry, frowning thoughtfully. “And even _**he**_ got in trouble for charming a car to fly because we got spotted by muggles...” 

“Still - it doesn’t seem fair really. I don’t really see what the big deal is over secrecy laws if wizards aren’t actually vulnerable to muggle attacks once we learn how to protect ourselves with magic - like flame freezing charms for example.” 

“...Seems to me that muggles are more vulnerable to dark wizards with secrecy laws in place - and look at all the good that wizards could do to help non-magic people if we were allowed to share magic with them,” Harry concluded.

“My point precisely,” beamed Sirius as he regarded Harry proudly.

Lupin and Hermione both looked a bit disconcerted as they considered the validity of Harry’s argument. Lupin really couldn’t think of anything to counter Harry’s point.

“I think you’re absolutely right Harry,” said Hermione finally, with a look of conviction after considering all of the angles. 

But it wasn’t just exploring muggle London and the interesting conversations which Harry and Hermione enjoyed over the holidays; the few hours of cleaning every morning that Sirius and Lupin would engage in after breakfast was fascinating enough that Harry and Hermione were more than happy to join in. 

“Sorry about this,” said Sirius, “My family’s House-Elf apparently didn’t feel it necessary to keep the place up with nobody in the house for 12 years.”

“You had a house-elf?” Harry gasped, sharing a distressed look with Hermione.

“I _**have**_ a house-elf!” Sirius responded, looking a bit bewildered at the appalled expressions on Harry and Hermione’s faces. “But with you and Hermione coming to stay, I felt it best to send him to work at Hogwarts where Dumbledore can look after him... Kreacher tended to parrot my family’s pureblood mania. My family was quite dark. They were all in Slytherin - I was the only one to be sorted into Gryffindor...”

Sirius showed Harry and Hermione the hooks in the hallway where the mounted heads of past house-elves had hung before their arrival, and the family tree tapestry. Sirius had considered pulling down the wall in order to remove the tapestry, but thought better of it. Harry and Hermione were both surprised to see how inter-related many of the pureblood families were. 

“What happened here?” Hermione asked when she pulled aside a long curtain and discovered a wall which had most of the plasterboard missing. Harry turned to peer at Sirius questioningly.

“Ah!” Sirius shook his head with a rueful smile. “That wall had my beloved Mum’s portrait on it. I couldn’t get it off the wall, so I just tore out that bit of wall completely. She was the worst pureblood of the lot really. It wouldn’t have done to have had her shouting disgusting, filthy names at you all the time Hermione...”

Besides a lot of dusting, pest, and cobweb removal, and the boggart banished by Lupin, the cleaning was really more of a purge of dark artifacts, some to be turned over to the Ministry, and others to be destroyed. And some were simply family possessions which brought back too many ugly memories for Sirius - those he put in a sack to be sold off. Despite themselves, Harry and Hermione found many of the items frankly intriguing. 

It was on the day before Hermione’s mother was due to arrive that Harry felt the familiar prickling in his scar when they were clearing out a room which had belonged to Sirius’s brother, Regulus. Harry picked up the gold locket and felt his scar begin to burn with an intensity he hadn’t felt since Second Year.

 **“ _Harry!_ ”** shouted Hermione when he staggered and nearly collapsed, clutching his forehead with a groan. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Sirius looked panic-stricken and Lupin ran across the room to help him examine Harry, who was on his knees.

“It’s alright...” Harry gasped, as he clambered back to his feet, out of breath. 

“I’ll... I’ll be okay,” he muttered. “I’ve felt this way before... loads of times in First Year when Voldemort was trying to get the Philosopher’s Stone. And also around Voldemort’s - Tom Riddle’s - diary in Second Year...” 

“It’s a lot more intense when Voldemort himself is actually near...” Harry continued between gulps of air, “...In the Chamber of Secrets when Riddle actually came out of the diary... it was almost as bad as when he was possessing Quirrell... It’s been about a year since I’ve felt it this strongly... So it’s a bit of a shock at first - but I’m okay... _**really!**_ I... I think it means that this locket is one of his Horcruxes...”

“Voldemort has Horcruxes?” The blood drained from Sirius’s features, and for a moment he looked as haggard and gaunt as the day Harry had first seen him in the Shrieking Shack. “Remus, what do you know about this?”

“Very little,” Lupin admitted ruefully. “I asked Dumbledore about the whole Chamber of Secrets business after Flitwick mentioned it to me one day. Dumbledore told me about Riddle’s diary and that Voldemort seems to have inadvertently left a piece of himself in Harry the day that... er... Anyway, Dumbledore had hoped that the diary was the only completed Horcrux - but if this locket is also one...”

“...There could be more!” Sirius nodded, his face still ashen.

“We _**have**_ to take it to Dumbledore!” said Hermione a bit shrilly. “He can destroy the locket with the Sword of Gryffindor.”

“The Sword of Gryffindor?” Sirius arched his eyebrows “It seems that there is a lot which I haven’t heard yet.” 

“Harry and I both got the sword last year when we fought the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets...” Hermione anxiously explained. “Harry killed the Basilisk with the sword and made sure it got imbued with the venom so that we had a weapon which could destroy Horcruxes if we found any more of them... 

“Yeah...” Harry said painfully, between gasps of breath, “It’s true... Dumbledore _**hoped**_ that the diary was the only one... but he _**does**_ suspect that Voldemort might have made more.”

“Right then, you can both fill me in on the details later,” said Sirius gently, giving Harry and Hermione a look of awe. “Remus, you keep the locket safe then - far away from Harry - until you get it back to Hogwarts... Hermione, why don’t you take Harry to lie down for a bit.”

Sirius glanced at Remus as Hermione took Harry’s arm and led him to his room. Remus saw the tears in his eyes and put his hand comfortingly on Sirius’s shoulder.

“He’ll be alright you know...” said Lupin sympathetically. “Especially now that he has you!”

“It’s not that...” responded Sirius hoarsely, “It’s... it’s just... seeing them together! It’s... it’s almost like...”

“...like having James and Lily back,” Lupin finished quietly when Sirius choked up. “I know! Hermione easily matches Lily in intellect and compassion, and Harry does have many of James's qualities, though I daresay that Harry is even more like Lily than James - He has her maturity and kind nature... He has...”

“...his mother’s eyes!” Sirius managed to gasp with a nod. Lupin thought it best to be done with cleaning for the day and took Sirius to the parlour to pour him a stiff drink.

**~o0o~**

Hermione’s lips tenderly encircled his, her arms enfolding Harry in a warm embrace as his hands found themselves entangled in her cascading tawny locks. The pain in Harry’s scar faded rapidly as the forbidding darkness fled before the luminous glow spreading within him. When his eyelids fluttered open again, Hermione saw peace in Harry’s eyes once more as his head slumped back against the pillow.

Wetness leaked from Hermione’s own eyes as she rested nearly atop Harry and felt his heart beating next to her own. 

“It’s alright Hermione...” Harry whispered as he caressed her back in little circles and gave her another little kiss. “I feel loads better now! Thank You! That was brilliant - I don’t know what I’d do without you! I’d be a mess...”

**~o0o~**

Hermione and her mother shed many tears as they embraced when she arrived. The days with Mrs Granger passed happily as she finally got to spend time with her daughter again, and got to know Harry.

Sirius and Lupin had made adjustments to allow her to pass through the charms which warded Number Twelve against non-magical people. And after the thorough cleaning, the townhouse was already far more bright and cheerful than when Harry and Hermione had first entered it. 

“It’s good to finally meet you properly Harry,” said Mrs Granger when she hugged him upon her arrival, sadly noting to herself that he flinched at her touch. “I’m glad she has a good friend like you to look after her...”

“Hermione’s been looking after me really,” Harry replied, feeling a bit awkward and not knowing what else to say, peering red-faced at Hermione for help, who was grinning at him.

“Well, judging from Hermione’s letters, I’d have to say that you’re _**both**_ looking after _**each other**_ very well indeed!” Mrs Granger gave Harry a warm smile, finding his endearing blushes positively adorable. 

Mrs Granger was very pleased at how warmhearted and sensible Professor Lupin seemed to be, and she enjoyed the slightly rakish charm of Harry’s godfather, though for all of his airs, she sensed that Sirius Black was a big softy at heart. 

“Please, call me Jean!” she told Sirius Black and Remus Lupin when they introduced themselves.

In another life, Jean could almost imagine being attracted to a man like Sirius, but she noted the closeness he shared with Remus Lupin, and suspected something much deeper between the pair of them. Both of them struck her as kind and intelligent, and she sighed inwardly as she thought of the man her husband had been before their daughter had left for Hogwarts.

Hermione was thrilled with how well everything was going. She could see that Harry felt awkward around her mum, but by the second day, Harry seemed to be relaxing and enjoying her company. Hermione kept the secret of their adjoining bedrooms though, not wanting to spoil things.

Jean Granger caught the looks her daughter shared with Harry when they thought she wasn’t watching, and she had noted Hermione’s attempts to avoid all eye contact with the locked door adjoining her room with Harry’s. She smiled to herself, and shook her head. For all of her keen intellect, Hermione had never been very good at hiding her feelings.

Mrs Granger had been able to detect how attached Hermione was to Harry since she had started writing about him in her letters during her first year after the incident with the troll. And once again, she found herself just feeling thankful that Hermione had managed to find someone intelligent and kindhearted to keep her company. 

Hermione had endured more than enough bullying and belittling in her young life from those who felt threatened by her inestimable intellect, and Jean rather hoped that her daughter’s relationship with Harry Potter would be a lasting one.

True to his word, Sirius had taken everyone out to one of the poshest restaurants in London for Easter Dinner. At first Harry felt a bit weird in the tuxedo Sirius had bought him; he’d never worn anything like it in his life. Then Harry caught Hermione peering at him with a sort of hungry look. He grinned at her, deciding that maybe he liked the tux after all. 

For his part, Harry was stunned at how gorgeous Hermione looked in the elegant pearly dress which Sirius had insisted on paying for, and she’d done something to straighten her hair. Harry had always thought Hermione was really pretty - from the day he had really noticed her when she had told him that she didn’t want to see him get hurt or in trouble for standing up to Malfoy - though Harry had gathered over all the time he’d spent with Hermione that she thought of herself as plain. 

Truth be told, Harry loved Hermione’s bushy hair, and he liked her cute overbite, though he knew she felt really self-conscious about it. But there was something about the dress, the way it clung to her in just the right places...

**~o0o~**

Many of the goodbyes on platform nine and three quarters as the students who had left for the Easter Holidays gathered to return to Hogwarts were tearful, but none were more-so than Hermione’s and her mother’s. Though Sirius appeared to be doing his best not to let his own tears show.

Sirius had given Lupin a hug goodbye, and he wanted to give Harry a hug too, but he’d noticed how uncomfortable it made Harry for anyone to touch him - except for Hermione - and thought better of it.

“Bye Harry, I’ll miss you...” he said with a sad grin. “You will come and stay with me after the Dursleys, won’t you...?”

“Of course!” Harry beamed. “I’d stay with you all the time if it weren’t for the - you know...”

Sirius did know. That first night at St Mungo’s Dumbledore had explained in brief how Lily’s sacrifice had imbued Harry with a number of protections against Voldemort, including the additional protection charms based on Lily's magic which he himself had placed on Harry. 

“Right... well then - I know you can look after yourself now Harry... but if the Dursleys try to hurt you again and you need me, just let me know. And Hermione is welcome to visit anytime.”

Jean Granger overheard Harry’s goodbye with his godfather as she was giving Hermione one last hug, and recalled how Harry had flinched when she'd embraced him upon arrival.

“Hermione,” she said quietly, frowning, “why didn’t you ever tell me that Harry’s relatives abused him?”

“I...” Hermione flushed and bit her lip, glancing at Harry who was still saying goodbye to Sirius “He didn’t want anyone to know... I promised I wouldn’t tell. But it’s alright now Mum - really! Dumbledore found out anyway somehow, and the Minister of Magic emancipated Harry so that he can use magic to protect himself if he has to.”

“Oh!” Mrs Granger’s eyes filled with a few fresh tears as she regarded her daughter’s earnest features. “Well I don’t have time now dear, but sometime we really should have a talk about what sorts of promises are alright to break...” 

“Harry’s a very sweet boy! I’d hate to see anything happen to him... And he can stay with us at your Aunt’s whenever he likes!” concluded Hermione's mother.

A piercing whistle blew as billowing clouds of steam poured across the station, and the wheels of the train began to screech. Hermione let go of her mum and ran for it. Harry stood in the doorway of the carriage and pulled Hermione in as she leapt into his arms.

**~o0o~**

Dumbledore peered over the top of his half-moon spectacles with clear blue eyes at Harry and Hermione as he poured a shot of firewhiskey for everyone including himself with shaking hands. They both still looked more than a bit shaky as well. Harry’s face was pale; he was still clutching the Sword of Gryffindor in one hand, and Hermione’s hand in the other.

“Well, I wouldn’t normally be offering this to Third Years,” said the Headmaster, “But I daresay we could all use a sip after dealing with _**that!**_ ” 

Harry gulped and nodded, glancing again at the charred and twisted ruin of Slytherin’s Locket lying on the floor of Dumbledore’s office, which was still oozing a black venomous pustulence. For all that he’d had to endure the prickling and burning of his scar for a short while again, Harry was glad that Dumbledore had allowed him to be the one to destroy the Horcrux.

**~o0o~**

It was late on the first evening back from Easter Holidays, and it was chilly on the top of the Astronomy Tower, but it was the most peaceful and private place in the castle that Harry could think of to be with Hermione as she soothed his still burning scar with her kisses. They sat under the stars in the clear night sky, cuddling and kissing, long after the soreness had fled.

It had been worth the pain of facing the spectre of Voldemort again to deal a death blow to another piece of him in Dumbledore’s office after dinner. Harry had been tempted to open the locket before cleaving it with the Sword of Gryffindor, and face Riddle’s Shade directly - which he knew was residing inside as it had been in the diary. But Dumbledore had advised against it, insisting that it was better to simply do away with it as Harry had already had far more than his fair share of dealing with the many faces of Tom Riddle. 

And indeed, the violent reaction of Slytherin's Locket to being destroyed had been very disconcerting to put it mildly. A tumultuous maelstrom of wind had swept through Dumbledore's office, ruffling Fawkes' feathers, blowing papers off his desk, sending his delicate silver and golden instruments clattering to the floor. The locket had sparked and billowed black smoke, spewing its viscous black bile as it shuddered and shrieked in agony, and Harry had felt a searing burst of pain in his scar as if it had been branded with a hot poker.

And now that the pain of the experience was gone, Harry gave Hermione one last kiss before resignedly covering themselves both up with the Invisibility Cloak and returning to Gryffindor Tower. Well, it was the second to the last kiss in any case. The Fat Lady couldn’t wait to tell her friend Violet about this one.

Harry peered at the map, and seeing that it was all clear, he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak. But before he could give the password to enter Gryffindor Tower, Harry found his lips busily engaged with Hermione’s again as she pulled him in for one more heated kiss. When it was over, he fell back in a daze, a big soppy grin plastered all over his face.

“I just want to make sure that you’re _**really**_ feeling better Harry...” giggled Hermione. “So you’ll have loads of nice dreams instead of horrible ones.”

“Er... Yeah! thanks Hermione!” said Harry giddily. “I think that one really did it...”

“Where’d’you go after dinner?” Ron asked when Harry finally crawled into bed. “I’ve been dying to tell you all about the Cleansweep 8 I got over the hols thanks to your godfather,” Ron grinned excitedly.

“Er... Dumbledore’s office,” Harry fudged a bit, thankful to have a good reason for grinning back at Ron. “I’ll tell you all about it later,” he concluded mysteriously.

Ron seemed to accept that and Harry quickly fell into a peaceful slumber, dreaming of being with Hermione, both of them dressed to the nines. The only thing odd about the dream was that they were both dancing under moonlit starry skies - and Harry had never danced a day in his life.

**~o0o~**

The fat orange cat had been purring, curled up contentedly on the young witch’s bed. Yawning, he stretched and shook his bushy tail as he woke, realising that he was a bit late. The young witch with hair as bushy as her cat’s tail stirred in her sleep. Purring a bit more, the cat rubbed his head a few times under the young witch’s chin.

“Stop it Harry, that tickles,” the young witch giggled in her sleep. “Focus on your feet and listen to the rhythm... 1, 2, 3... 1,2,3...” she murmured as she drifted through her dream.

The cat appeared to grin, knowing that his human was at peace, and padded off the bed, pushed open the door of the girls dorm, and trotted down the stairs, looking for an open window. He'd rather not wake the Fat Lady if he didn't have to.

Five minutes later, if that young witch in the girls dorm had awoken and peered out of her own window, she would have spied a very curious, but likely familiar sight. Had she seen her orange cat dancing on the lawn with the white snowy owl in the moonlight, she would have no doubt remembered the dance they had performed together in Diagon Alley on the day that the two animals had met for the first time. 

And likewise, had the young wizard in the boys dorm been awake to peer out of his own window, he may have been compelled by the sight to remember seeing his wise owl and the young witch’s intuitive cat curled up together on top of an oak wardrobe on another moonlit night, as the young witch in question slumbered with her arm coiled around his waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, in the books, it would seem that Harry doesn't have the ability to detect Horcruxes with his scar. But to me (and to the filmmakers of DH1 and 2 apparently), that seems a bit of an inconsistency on Rowling's part.
> 
> It is very clear in canon that Harry's Scar is a Voldy Detector of sorts. It hurts when Voldemort is near, and it hurts whenever Voldy appears to be expressing strong emotions (anger, wild glee), even at a distance. Thus, it seems only logical to me that it would have the same reactions to the pieces of Voldy in the Horcruxes.


	13. The Princess and the Hippogriff

The Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office eyed the backside of the handsome lanky figure with long platinum hair as he departed her office in a furious swirl of robes, her lips pursed as she tried to make sense of things and keep her own temper in check. She was at least as angry as the Warlock who had just stormed from her office, if not more-so. But she hated to lose control of her anger. Loss of control led to mistakes.

It was incomprehensible that their plan had failed not once, not twice, but _**three**_ times. Potter was still at Hogwarts and still very much alive; Dumbledore was still Headmaster, and Cornelius Fudge was now more supportive of them both than ever. And to top things off, over the weekend, Sirius Black had become a free man - he hadn’t been the top priority of course, but as an escaped convict, he had been such a very convenient excuse.

Neither she nor the Warlock were able to conclude that any mistakes had been made on their part, at least not on the second and third tries. And she almost wished that they had; errors could be accounted for and fixed. 

The first attempt had been a matter of not accounting for the presence of a highly skilled teacher on the Hogwarts Express, and not having enough units in place - that had been a mistake. There was something about the name Lupin though which rang a bell... Lupin, where had she heard that name before? She put that on the back-burner to investigate later as she considered the other things which had gone wrong.

On the second attempt, given the great numbers she had set to the job at hand, Potter had only been saved by sheer dumb luck - falling off his broom during the Quidditch match and surviving. But the third attempt should have been a guaranteed success, as she had doubled the number of units and given them carte blanche to ignore previous Ministry instructions, and to eliminate anyone who stood between them and their prey. 

It should have taken at least fifteen or more highly trained wizards to have expelled the legion which had been tasked for the third attempt, yet she had been informed by the group leader that only Potter and a little girl - a Mudblood no less - had been the ones to forcefully eject them from Hogwarts. Which was impossible of course. Clearly, Dumbledore must have devised some sort of secret weapon and given it to Potter.

The Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office needed a new angle if she and the Warlock were to achieve their mutual goals without drawing attention to themselves. And now that Black had been pardoned, the Dementors were no longer a viable option - at least not for the time being. It would be equally problematic to stage some sort of direct attack on Potter outside of Hogwarts as it could lead to far too many questions. 

It had to look like an accident, or something which Potter had brought upon himself. And as the laws currently stood, she had no authority at Hogwarts. She needed a way to get the Ministry’s foot in the door at Hogwarts, and to get to Potter. She would have to contend with Fudge of course. It was obvious that he was a dead loss, no longer worth the effort of persuading, having utterly given himself over to Dumbledore’s counsel. A new Minister would be required, someone more amenable to the goals of those such as herself and the Warlock. 

The Ministry Witch sipped her chamomile tea and eyed her collection of pink kitten plates as she pondered the possibilities. As her mind churned, a plan began to form and the Witch’s eyes began to gleam. The Warlock would no doubt be delighted to arrange the sort of mayhem necessary to discredit Fudge, and the perfect opportunity was approaching in the not so distant future. 

And as for dealing with Dumbledore and Potter, well, _**that**_ plan would require her to put on her Senior Undersecretary Hat.

The Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office opened the drawer on the side of her desk reserved for her _other_ Official Duties, and retrieved a memo slip with her Senior Undersecretary header. A little cackle escaped her lips as she began to scribble a strongly suggestive memo to Bartemius Crouch and Ludo Bagman. It was still quite early in the morning on the last Monday of February, and if they began now, everything should be in place for the beginning of the next term at Hogwarts.

**~o0o~**

It was after midnight when Harry crossed off July 30th on his calendar after wiping the cold sweat from his brow with his t-shirt and flinging it on the floor with an odd mix of trepidation and exhilaration. It was officially his 14th birthday, and he could leave the Dursleys any time he liked without having to worry about Voldemort. 

Which was good, because Harry’s disturbing dreams had returned in full force that evening after he’d fallen asleep, not to mention that his scar had begun burning painfully again, waking him right up. And unfortunately, Harry didn’t have Hermione to cuddle at the moment as she was still staying with her mum at her Aunt’s in Bournemouth.

As Harry was technically an adult in the wizard world, thanks to being emancipated by Cornelius Fudge, he had at least been able to come and go from Number 4 Privet Drive as he liked while he stayed with the Dursleys. So when Hermione’s mother had invited him to visit for a few days he had eagerly accepted. And Harry hadn’t even had to put up with Uncle Vernon complaining about being a taxi-driver, for Harry had taken the Knight Bus directly to Hermione’s Aunt’s house.

Uncle Vernon had still been a fuming purple-faced picture of fury over the set of circumstances. But ever since Vernon Dursley had been notified by the Ministry that Harry could now use magic whenever he liked, and had received another warning - much more strongly worded than the previous missive, one might have even called it threatening - he hadn’t said one word to Harry for a whole month. 

Aunt Petunia hadn’t spoken to Harry much either, but he had caught her mysteriously giving him odd quavering looks whenever Uncle Vernon wasn’t around. If Harry hadn’t known how much his aunt despised him, he might have thought they were almost apologetic. 

The most unusual situation though was with Dudley. Terrified out of his wits that an emancipated Harry would turn him into a pig completely, Dudley had locked himself in his room whenever he wasn’t hanging out with his gang, and refused to leave it even for meals. Aunt Petunia had been forced to bring Dudley’s breakfast and dinner to his room, and had given him money to eat lunch out with his little friends.

The first four days, Harry had just enjoyed the peace and quiet, but on the fifth day, Harry had started to feel guilty when he thought he heard sniffles coming from Dudley’s room. Harry had thought about what Hermione might say, then sighed when he knew what he had to do. Harry had knocked on Dudley’s door and heard a squeak of fright from the other side. 

“Alohomora,” Harry had muttered, pointing his wand at the handle. 

“Please... d...don’t hurt me!” Dudley had squealed when Harry had pushed the door open. 

Harry had rolled his eyes. The worst he had ever done to Dudley in retaliation for all of the beatings Dudley and his mates had given him, was accidentally set a snake loose at the zoo, and insult him a few times.

“Look Dudley...” Harry had sighed, “I’m not interested in hurting you! Even though you do deserve a good thumping!” Dudley had flinched and whimpered, but Harry ignored it and pressed on.

“Anyway,” Harry continued, “I reckon if Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia hadn’t spoiled you rotten and egged you on when you and your gang were beating me up, things might have been different between us growing up. I...” Harry had swallowed uncertainly, then carried on.

“Er... I’ve come to offer a pax and put that all behind us! If.... if you’re willing to try and be friends that is.”

Dudley’s piggy eyes had grown bigger and his mouth had gaped in befuddlement. Undeserved forgiveness was the last thing that he’d ever expected from Harry.

“Well... how about it Dudley?” Harry had said, sounding a bit more exasperated than he intended when Dudley didn’t answer.

“R...r...really?” Dudley had stammered in response. “You mean it?”

Harry had nodded. He hadn’t said anything more, because he was already having second thoughts, and wasn’t sure if he could actually sound like he meant it at all. Harry had reached out his hand; Dudley had stared at it for several moments... then put forth his own sweaty hand tentatively and clasped Harry’s, shaking it.

“Er... alright then,” Dudley had replied with a fearful little smile; an hour later he was showing Harry how to shoot aliens on his Playstation, and the beginnings of something bordering on friendship was born.

It had been the following week when Harry had taken the Knight Bus to Bournemouth. Harry had been extremely nervous even though he’d met Hermione’s mum properly for the first time at Easter, but Hermione’s mother and Aunt were very welcoming, and he’d spent three nights there.

Harry had been afraid that he might not get a chance for a proper cuddle with Hermione, but her mother had allowed them to spend a whole day by themselves together. Harry and Hermione had gone on a bus and ferry trip across the bay, taking a picnic lunch which they’d eaten amidst the ruins of an old castle on the top of a green hill. Hermione had been thrilled, as it was her first time visiting the crumbling fortification.

“It was built in the 11th century by William the Conqueror...” she had told Harry eagerly. “And it’s one of the first castles in England built with stone.”

“Really? I thought all castles were made of stone.” 

“No! Actually the first castles were made with earth and wood...”

Harry had grinned, thoroughly enjoying Hermione’s lecture on the history of castles in Britain as puffy white clouds scudded across the bright blue summer sky. When Hermione had concluded the lesson, she caught Harry’s blissful expression. 

“What’s up Harry?” she had asked, somewhat bemused. “Did you hear even one word I said?”

“I heard _**every**_ word!” he had retorted, still grinning. “It’s just... you looked so happy - I love it when you go into lecture mode.” 

Hermione had blushed, and Harry pulled her a bit closer for a kiss. As their lips parted, she had glanced about the ruins anxiously. 

“It’s just us,” Harry had said softly, brushing aside the few locks of Hermione’s tawny curls which had blown across her pink cheeks. “The only other tourists who were here left while you were telling me all about castles - and it’s the middle of the week, so more aren’t very likely today...” 

Hermione had peered around nervously a bit more, but she couldn’t fault Harry’s logic, and she had been dying for this moment alone together with him. She had blushed shyly again, fluttering her lashes as she leaned in for another kiss. 

Arms curling around each other as they sat under an ancient archway, the second kiss had lasted longer than the first, and the ones which followed had been steamy enough to keep them warm when the cool breeze from the nearby sea picked up.

**~o0o~**

Hedwig fluttered her wings as she rested on the windowsill in the moonlight, startling Harry out of his comforting reverie. But the memory of his visit was not one to be put aside so easily. Harry could almost still feel Hermione’s lips against his as he cheerfully tore open the first of the envelopes his Snowy Owl had brought him. It was a birthday card with a letter from Ron. 

_Harry - I can’t believe it - DAD GOT TICKETS TO THE WORLD CUP - THE BEST SEATS TOO! Is your godfather bringing you? If not, just let me know. Dad said he can get extra passes for guests if he needs to!_

Harry grinned and set the card down; Sirius had already purchased six tickets for the Quidditch World Cup. Harry caught a whiff of mint when he opened the second envelope, and knew it was a card and a letter from Hermione before he even looked at it. 

_Dear Harry,_

_I had a lovely time when you came to visit, and I’m really looking forward to seeing you again soon. I’ve missed you lots! Mum is driving me up to London tomorrow. We can meet in Diagon Alley and pick up our school things together. And she said I can go with you and your godfather and Professor Lupin to the World Cup. It was really sweet of you to invite Luna and Neville as well._

_But even better, Mum said I can stay with you the rest of the Summer. She and Auntie have decided to spend a week and a half in London - they’ve booked a hotel room already - so that they can still see me for a bit before we go to the World Cup._

♥ _Loads of Love_ ♥  
♥ _Hermione_ ♥  
XOXOXOXOX

Harry blinked back the tears which sprang to his eyes, wondering where they had come from. Then it hit him as he reread the letter and the closing phrase - Hermione was the only one who had ever sent him letters signed with love. Harry touched the little hearts and the hugs and kisses which surrounded Hermione’s signature with his forefinger and sighed happily, laying his head down on the pillow as the throbbing in his scar continued to ebb.

Harry kept the memory of the day that he had snogged Hermione among the ruins of Corfe Castle in his mind as he went back to sleep, hoping it would keep his nightmare at bay. He had more than a sneaking suspicion that his dream of Voldemort, Wormtail, and an enormous snake killing an elderly man in an ivy covered manor with dusty cobwebbed rooms and peeling wallpaper was more than just a nightmare. 

And if Harry was certain of one thing, when he was with Hermione, he could face anything - even his worst nightmares come to life. 

**~o0o~**

“Look ‘oo it is Ern...” beamed Stan Shunpike as he heaved the trunk onto the triple-decker bus. “It’s ‘Arry Potter again!”

The elderly bus driver chortled at the young conductor’s excitement.

“ Good ter see yeh again Mr Potter,” greeted Ernie. “Where mightcha be headed today?”

“London,” said Harry, grimacing as he shielded his eyes from the morning sun which was glaring directly at him through the windows of the bus, as if cross to have been awoken so early. “The Leaky Cauldron... Don’t you two ever sleep by the way?”

“Sleep?” Stan snorted mirthfully as Harry settled into a poofy armchair by a round table, “...‘Oo needs that? I’m savin’ up for an early retirement I am...” 

Stan hung on for dear life as the Knight Bus lurched into motion, still chortling at his own little joke.

“Nah...” he continued, “Me an’ Ern... we’re actually both workin’ extra shifts to save up for tickets to the World Cup! We should ‘ave enough by the end o’ the week for entrance tickets an’ a campsite. So wot abou’ you then ‘Arry? You goin’?”

“Er... Yeah! I’m going with my godfather and my... er... my girlfriend!” said Harry, unable to keep himself from grinning when the term “girlfriend” rolled off his tongue. 

“Takin’ Granger are ya?” Stan smirked and gave Harry a wink. “She’s a right nice girl, she is... a real sweet’eart! You’re a real lucky fella...”

“Yeah... yeah I am!” said Harry a bit dreamily, rubbing at his scar. “But if you’re saving up for the World Cup... are you sure you don’t want me to pay for her trip last sum...”

“I wouldn’ ‘ear of it!” interrupted Stan with a wave of his hand. “Like me an’ Ern toldja on the way to Bournemouth a couple o’ weeks ago, it was an honour to ‘elp a damsel in distress!”

Harry nodded, giving Stan a grateful smile. The youthful bus conductor staggered back up to the front of the hurtling bus to chat with Ern, leaving Harry to his thoughts. The last few months at Hogwarts before term had ended were vivid in his mind.

The irony wasn’t lost on Harry that someone of such meager means as Stan Shunpike could be far more noble of spirit than a spoiled peacock like Draco Malfoy, who considered himself to be royalty. And Hermione, whom Malfoy considered to be less than human, had shown the pretentious little princeling that she was a force to be reckoned with. 

Harry and Hermione had been as surprised as anyone to hear that Buckbeak the Hippogriff had been given a reprieve by the Ministry, but Malfoy had made it plain that he blamed them both. Harry hadn’t thought it possible that Malfoy could be any more vindictive than he had been during the private moment in Second Year, when Draco had let it be known to a Harry polyjuiced as Gregory Goyle - in no uncertain terms - that he hoped the Basilisk would kill Hermione. 

But Malfoy’s sneering jibes in public had taken on the same cold hard edge of that unguarded moment, devoid of the boastful glee which had usually accompanied them previously. Harry had begun to worry that he might take matters into his own hands rather than leaving it up to his father. 

And Malfoy’s mood had only gone from bad to worse after the final Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Despite using every dirty tactic in the book, Slytherin had been clobbered badly: the final outcome 230 to 20, and Gryffindor had taken the Cup for the second year running. 

Between keeping an eye out for some sort of retaliation from Malfoy, and June exams, Harry and Hermione’s final month at Hogwarts had been far more stressful than they had hoped. But despite everything, Harry had still managed to do very well in most of his classes - except for Arithmancy, which he was certain he had failed miserably.

“Nonsense Harry... I’m sure you achieved passing marks!” Hermione had assured him. “And I know you got top marks in Ancient Runes!”

“Yeah, that’s something isn’t it?” Harry had grinned, feeling cheered. 

While everyone else had exited the Transfiguration Final Exam moaning and complaining bitterly, the worst he and Hermione had had to be concerned about was whether their tortoises looked more like snapping turtles. 

“I hope they don’t bite someone,” Hermione had said anxiously. 

“Yeah... ours did look a bit vicious,” Harry had muttered in response. “I wonder if worrying about being attacked by Malfoy at any moment had something to do with it.”

Hermione’s eyebrows had furrowed thoughtfully. “You know Harry, I think you might have something there...”

They had both felt much better after their Charms exam though, as Cheering Charms had come up during the Practical part of the test. Ron had been partnered with Neville, and had had to be taken to a quiet room to calm down for an hour after being sent into a violent paroxysm of laughter when Neville vastly overdid the Charm due to a fit of nerves. 

Finally it had been Harry and Hermione’s turn. Hermione had performed flawlessly of course, despite her own extremely high levels of anxiety. Then it was all down to Harry.

“Hmmm... Granger seems a wee bit giggly to me Potter,” Flitwick had said with a discerning eye.

“I did that on purpose sir! Hermione’s been under a lot of stress... I thought she could use the extra boost. I don’t care if I lose a few points as long as Hermione is happy...”

“Oh... well done _**indeed**_ then Potter!” Flitwick had seemed quite impressed, and been profuse in his praises. “Taking the needs of the moment into consideration and adjusting to them is actually a very crucial element in Charms,” he had told them both. 

“Some people erroneously conclude that the more flexible nature of Charm-work makes it somehow an easier branch of magic - a ‘soft option’ if you will - compared to the rigid requirements and exacting nature of Transfiguration for example...” 

“But I can assure you, the precise opposite is the case - which is something anyone keen on defensive magic and dueling will eventually discover when they are put to the test in the real world...” 

“Mark my word Potter - you too Granger - when you’re in a pickle, knowing how and when to make adjustments to your spells on the fly can make the difference between life and death! This is something I don’t usually get into until Sixth Year... I don’t generally expect Third Years to be capable of grasping that... 120% to the both of you!” 

“That was _**brilliant**_ Harry!” Hermione had said after the conclusion of the exam, her eyes gleaming. 

She had been so thrilled by the unexpected extra bit of keen insight and the high marks that Harry had inspired Flitwick to give them, that she had thrown caution to the wind and pulled Harry behind a suit of armour, kissing him with reckless abandon. When they emerged from behind the armour, Harry had felt as giddy as Hermione had apparently been after his Cheering Charm. 

The following morning had brought Care of Magical Creatures though, and they had both been on high alert for any violent mischief on Malfoy’s part. But their worry had been for naught, as Hagrid had still been so pleased about Buckbeak’s reprieve that he had simply passed around flobberworms, and then given everyone top marks when they were still alive at the end of class. Even Malfoy couldn’t work out how to create trouble with a flobberworm.

It was after their Potions Final that Malfoy had looked the most murderous. Harry and Hermione had both turned in flawless potions. Malfoy’s had been good, but it was slightly thinner than it should have been, earning him a 98% mark. Harry knew with a certainty when he saw the look in Malfoy’s eye that the Slytherin had something planned. 

Anyone else would have been thrilled to have done as well as Malfoy. Certainly Ron, Seamus, or Neville would have been. As it was, Ron and Seamus had tied with Crabbe and Goyle for lowest marks, while Neville and Dean had at least managed to achieve a passing percentage. 

The morning after that had been Defence Against the Dark Arts, which had consisted of an obstacle course featuring all of the creatures which Lupin had taught them about during the year. Harry had completed it perfectly, emerging from the wardrobe containing the boggart with a grin on his face. Ron, Seamus, and Neville never made it past the hinkypunks. Dean, Parvati, and Lavender had all returned from the wardrobe with the boggart looking quite shaken after a considerable length of time had passed, 

Hermione had performed flawlessly... until she got to the boggart in the wardrobe. She had exited the wardrobe screaming within moments of entering it, and refused to answer when Lupin and Harry asked her what was wrong. They had all forgotten that it wouldn’t turn into a Dementor for her. Harry had a bad feeling that he knew what the matter was. 

Fortunately, as neither of them had taken Muggle studies or Divination, that had been their last exam of the week. Harry had taken Hermione to sit under a willow by the lake, far away from everyone else. She had still been trembling and crying, even as Harry embraced her.

“Hermione... Please! Tell me what happened with the boggart!”

“I... I d...don’t th...think I can Harry,” she had stammered, still weeping inconsolably. That’s when Harry had been certain. His heart crumbled as he worried that his own reticence to discuss the subject might have rubbed off on her.

“It’s alright Hermione...” he had said gently, comfortingly rubbing her back and kissing her cheek. “You can tell me - you know I’ll understand... I’ll do a Cheering Charm on you, but only after you tell me what happened... alright? Please?”

Finally Hermione nodded. 

“It... it was D...Dad!” she had sobbed. “The boggart t...turned into my f...father. He h...hit me and tried to t...take my wand...”

Harry had lifted his wand to perform the Cheering Charm, but Hermione had put her hand up to stop him.

“Not just yet... in a minute!” she had said. “Just g...give me a b...bit more t...time to cry! I... I need to f...face up to it...”

Harry had put his wand back down, understanding all too well. 

Hermione still hadn’t quite come to terms with how badly her father had frightened her by trying to break down her door to get to her wand, and then by smashing her things and hitting her mum after she had run away. She had never known fear at the hands of family before - from someone who was supposed to love her and protect her from harm. 

That sort of fear was relatively new to her still, and palpable, even after facing down the Dementors. Which had puzzled Harry as they sat there, until he had suddenly been struck with the notion that their feelings for one another had sustained each other during the Dementor attack, but that the underlying fear of her father's behaviour - and the anger and confusion it must also make her feel - was still there.

Harry still didn’t like discussing his own feelings with others much, but he knew he could with Hermione, and he’d gradually come to understand himself better. The fear was something he had eventually grown used to - almost inured to - experiencing it throughout his childhood with the Dursleys. Before he had learned he was a wizard and come to Hogwarts, except for occasional flashes of anger, Harry hadn’t been sure what he felt anymore - other than a pervading numbness.

He had worried that meant he was a bad person, but when he’d begun to experience friendships and love at Hogwarts, Harry had found out that he could still feel happy and hurt - he could still feel sadness and fear - not so much for himself, but for others. After facing the boggart-dementor in the trunk during the DADA Final Exam, he’d had an epiphany: What Harry really feared most, was losing the people he loved - especially Hermione. 

Harry had grown quite attached to Lupin over Third Year, and to Sirius surprisingly quickly in the very short time he’d known him; they really did feel like the family he had always wished for. Harry had thought about all the friends he’d made at Hogwarts, but while he had comforted Hermione under that willow tree by the lake, he knew that she was the one he couldn’t live without.

Hermione’s crying had ebbed, slowing to a trickle, and she had given Harry a wan little smile.

“I...I think I’m ready for that Cheering Charm now!”

Harry had performed the charm and they had then gone for a stroll, seeking out Hagrid. The Care of Magical Creatures professor hadn’t been at home, but they had spied Buckbeak near the pumpkin patch, eating some dead ferrets which Hagrid had left out for the Hippogriff. 

“... _Mate Griffins with mares, and in the coming age shy deer and hounds together come to drink_...” Hermione had whispered, eyes shining, this time with tears of happiness.

“Pardon?” 

“It’s from Virgil, a book of poems called _Eclogues_. Hippogriffs are a symbol of love - a supposedly impossible mating between Griffins and mares...” 

“Would you like a ride Hermione?” Harry had eagerly asked her as they stroked Buckbeak’s feathers, making a note to himself to put Virgil on his to-read list.

Hermione’s eyes had widened in bewilderment at Harry’s question; he knew she was terrified of heights. But then she had recited the line again under her breath and slowly nodded, blushing in understanding. 

Harry had gently lifted Hermione onto Buckbeak’s back and clambered up behind her. The hippogriff had lifted off, and moments later they were soaring over the forest, skimming the surface of the lake, hair billowing as a spray of fine mist stung their faces. 

“I’ve got you Hermione,” Harry had whispered in her ear over the rushing sound of the wind, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. “I won’t let you go!”

Hermione had slowly released her death-grip around Buckbeak’s neck and held her arms out, giggling nervously at the exhilarating sensation of the wind beneath her “wings,” trusting Harry to not let her fall. 

When they had returned from their flight, Hermione had been glowing and breathless as Harry carefully lifted her to the ground from the Hippogriff’s back. Backlit by the early afternoon sun, Hermione’s tawny brown windswept tresses had seemed framed by a golden crown. She had fallen into Harry’s arms and their lips had met for an eternal moment of bliss.

A piercing screech of terror from the edge of the Forbidden Forest had interrupted their passionate embrace. Alarm had shot through them both as they parted and dashed into the woods looking for the source of the sound. That’s when Harry and Hermione had spotted them. 

Crabbe and Goyle had managed to snare another of Hagrid’s hippogriffs in the paddock - which they had clearly mistaken for Buckbeak - with strong ropes as Draco Malfoy stood far back from it with his wand out. 

“Hold the bloody chicken still!” Malfoy had snapped at his henchmen. “How am I supposed to cut off its head with a diffindo spell if it keeps moving?” 

Harry had angrily whipped out his wand, but Hermione had charged at Malfoy furiously, darting into Harry’s line of fire. Draco Malfoy had whirled around, eyes bulging in fright to see the bushy haired missile hurtling towards him, dropping his wand.

“You foul, loathsome, little _**cockroach!**_ ” Hermione had shrieked as she launched herself at Malfoy. 

Her knee had connected with Malfoy’s privates, and her balled up fist had struck his face as he doubled over in pain. Harry had felt like cheering and egging Hermione on a bit, but instead he had grabbed her before she could properly aim her kick at Malfoy while he was still prostrate on the ground, holding his bloody nose. Crabbe and Goyle had just stood there petrified in shock, mouths agape.

“Let me _**go**_ Harry!” Hermione had screamed, hot tears of rage flooding her blazing cheeks as her foot barely missed Malfoy’s head.

“I know he deserves it Hermione,” Harry had muttered, as he struggled to hold onto her, “but I don’t want you to get in trouble for hitting him while he’s down.”

“She broke it...” Malfoy had wailed, “...da budblood broke by dose!”

“I’ll let her go if you don’t clear off now!” Harry had snarled at the sniveling wretch. “...And if I hear that any of Hagrid’s pets have been harmed in the future, I won’t hold her back next time.”

Malfoy’s face had been a picture of rage and fear as he snatched his wand from the ground with one hand, still holding the other over his bleeding nose. He had scarpered as fast as his feet could carry him, followed by his two terrified goons.

Hermione had deflated in Harry’s arms, still panting breathlessly as Harry wiped her angry tears with the sleeves of his robes. He had held Hermione until she had calmed, planting little kisses all over her face, gently stroking her messy hair.

“It’s alright Hermione! I think you scared him off!” he had said, giving her a little smile. “That was _**brilliant!**_ ... Malfoy won’t be going near any more of Hagrid’s pets anytime soon!”

“I... I _did_ frighten him, didn’t I!?” she had responded, looking more than a bit ashamed of herself and finally relaxing enough to let out a guilty little giggle.

**~o0o~**

The Knight Bus lurched again; one of the tables and several wooden chairs went flying down the aisle as the bus screeched to a halt just outside of Leeds, jarring Harry out of his reminiscence. But Harry couldn’t stop chortling to himself at the image of Malfoy scurrying away with his tail between his legs after Hermione had clobbered him. 

The image was almost enough to make up for the fact that several days later Harry and Hermione had discovered Professor Lupin packing his bags. Somehow, Malfoy had found out that Lupin was a werewolf and had told everyone in earshot. 

“I have to leave for now. I expect Dumbledore is already getting letters from angry parents. But never mind Harry - Hermione...” Lupin had sighed, giving them both a little smile. “I’ll be alright - and I expect I’ll be seeing you both at Sirius’s later this summer...”

The next stop after Leeds was London; Harry was still chuckling about Malfoy’s disgrace. Harry knew that he couldn’t let Stan and Ernie’s Chivalry go unrewarded. After the youthful Conductor had lugged Harry’s trunk to the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron and returned to the bus, Harry ran after him and shoved the entire contents of his pockets into Stan’s hands.

“Oi... wot’s this then?” asked a perplexed Stan Shunpike as he goggled at the fistful of galleons.

“TIP!” yelled Harry gleefully from the doorway of the Pub as he dragged his trunk and broom into the Wizard World. “Share it with Ern... I’ll see you both at the World Cup!”

Harry heard someone squeal his name, and as the oak door to the Muggle World shut with a heavy thunk behind him, he turned around to beam at the radiant girl hurtling towards him. Only the smiling presence of her mother kept Hermione from snogging Harry silly the moment she spotted him entering the Leaky Cauldron.


	14. Gifted

“Happy Birthday Harry!” said Hermione, squeezing Harry tightly, unable to resist giving him a perfectly chaste kiss on the lips despite the near vicinity of her mother. Harry turned beet red when he spotted Hermione’s mother smiling at them.

“It’s good to see you again dear,” said Mrs Granger, beaming at Harry. “Maybe I should just leave you both to it for the afternoon then. I’ll look after Crookshanks and your things until you return to the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione...” she continued. “You can leave your things with me too Harry. Where’s your lovely owl by the way?”

“Oh... er... I just let her fly up here. Hedwig’s going to meet me at my godfather’s,” Harry replied.

Hermione couldn’t have been happier to spend the rest of the bright summer day in Diagon Alley just with Harry. After leaving their things with her mother, Hermione grabbed Harry’s hand and made a beeline for the rear of the Leaky Cauldron. 

Harry bought them both ice-cream sundaes at Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour when they had finished visiting Gringotts and purchasing their quills, parchments, and potions supplies. Though it would be more accurate to say that Harry had attempted to pay for the sundaes, as Mr Fortescue had once more refused to accept even a knut from his two favourite customers.

“Is your scar bothering you again?” Hermione asked Harry with a concerned look in her eyes when she noticed him rubbing at it absentmindedly.

“Er...” Harry began haltingly; he had hoped to not spoil his afternoon with Hermione. “Yeah... I suppose so,” he sighed. “I was going to tell you and Sirius and Lupin later. I didn’t want to worry you just yet...”

“But that means that something’s happening with Voldemort then, doesn’t it?” Hermione gave Harry a hard stare.

Finally Harry relented and he revealed the dream that he’d had the night before. He told her about Wormtail and Voldemort, the snake and the old man, the old man's murder and the plot to kill someone else... but she could sense there was something about the dream he was still holding back.

“Harry...it’s _**not**_ a dream, is it!? He’s come back... and he’s plotting to kill _**you**_ , isn’t he?” 

Slowly, unwillingly, Harry nodded, unable to refuse those big brown eyes; despite the warmth of the sunny day, a little shiver ran up his spine. Hermione squeezed Harry’s hand and peered at him pleadingly.

“Harry, you’ve _**got**_ to tell Dumbledore...”

“Yeah... I know! I promise I will Hermione,” Harry swallowed uncomfortably. “After I get home - to Sirius’s I mean. I... I just wanted to have a nice time with you today.”

Hating to see Harry looking so anxious, Hermione bit her lip glancing up and down the street, and decided to risk it. Pulling her chair a bit closer to Harry’s, she leaned in and gave him a kiss, allowing their lips to mingle as long as she dared in public. Hermione spied a witch smiling at them as she pulled away, and turned pink. But seeing Harry’s happy, dazed expression, she decided it was well worth the price of embarrassment. 

Harry felt much more relaxed after Hermione kissed him, and the burning in his scar faded until it was barely an itch. The grin on his face was infectious, and Hermione beamed back at him as they carried on with their afternoon in Diagon Alley. They were both a bit puzzled when they spotted the next item on their lists.

“Dress robes? That’s weird! What d’you reckon that’s all about?” asked Harry.

“They must be for some sort of formal event,” Hermione murmured. “It looks like we’ll have to pay a visit to Madam Malkin’s.” 

“Er... formal event?” Harry squeaked anxiously.

“A fancy dinner with guests...” Hermione began. 

Harry started to relax. That didn’t sound so bad; dressing up for the posh restaurant at Easter had been fun really, and Hermione had been a vision to behold in that dress. As long as nobody fussed him about what sort of cutlery to use, he’d be alright.

“...or some sort of ball perhaps,” Hermione finished.

“Wait... you mean a ball - as in _**dancing?**_ ...in front of other people?” Harry started to panic. He didn’t know how dance. This was a disaster in the making.

“Oh Harry!” Hermione peered at him sympathetically when she saw that he looked far more nervous about dancing than he had been about his paining scar and his horrible dream. “It’s alright... really! I can teach you how to dance - you’ll be fine!”

“I dunno Hermione...” 

But then Harry had a sudden memory of another dream from months ago - a dream in which he had been dancing with Hermione under stars and moonlight. If he could dance in a dream, perhaps he could manage it... maybe! If everyone else looked the other way.

“Harry... I’ve seen you do all sorts of _**amazing**_ manoeuvres on your broom! You’ll be brilliant at dancing...”

“You really think so?” Harry swallowed as he looked Hermione in the eye. 

“Yes Harry... you can do this... _**trust**_ me!”

She really did seem to think he could do it. She had said that he could pass Arithmancy. And he had. Barely... but he’d managed it. As Harry continued to gaze into Hermione’s eyes he knew he trusted her with every fibre of his being. If she thought he could really do it...

“I do...” Harry whispered. “I trust you!” 

Hermione beamed at Harry and hugged him. Five minutes later, they were both in Madam Malkin’s looking at dress robes.

“What about these?” Harry pointed out a set of iridescent green robes which matched his eyes.

“I’m not so sure Harry,” Hermione replied pensively. “They’re quite handsome, but that might be a bit much. What about those?”

Harry looked at the robes which Hermione seemed to like best and grinned. They were black like his normal school robes, but its elegant cut and stylish lapels gave it a similar appearance to the muggle tuxedo which he had worn at Easter. Perfect!

Harry had been thinking about what to get Hermione for her birthday, and the no longer daunting prospect of a formal event at Hogwarts had given him an idea for a gift. While Hermione was getting fitted for her own robes, he slipped out of Madam Malkin’s and returned just before her fitting was finished. 

The last thing on their list was new schoolbooks. Unbidden, images of Harry's nightmare flickered in his mind again while they shopped in Flourish and Blotts. Harry suddenly knew what he had to do - something he knew he should have done a long time ago, but hadn't been able to face up to. He browsed through the history section and spied several books with familiar titles. 

“You don’t have to buy those Harry; you can read my copies,” said Hermione when she saw that he was peering at three books: _Modern Magical History_ , _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ , and _Great Wizarding Events of the 20th Century_. 

“Oh yeah... that’s why I feel like I’ve seen them before,” Harry murmured. “These are the ones you told me about when I first met you on the Hogwarts Express - the ones which have me in them - aren’t they!?”

“That’s right...” Hermione replied, “though now that I know you so well - and with what Dumbledore told you at the end of First Year - I’m not so sure that they’re entirely accurate in regards to how the wizard war ended. They all presume that Voldemort died that night, and none of them have any information about your life after...”

“What about the rest of it though - about what happened during the war I mean?”

“Well, they _**appear**_ to have a reasonable summation of events as far as I know,” Hermione responded with a pensive expression. “They’re well worth reading, even if only to get an understanding of what the history books have to say about you and Voldemort.”

“Right, I will then,” Harry said firmly as Hermione beamed at him radiantly. “If he really is back again, I ought to bone up on as much information as I can get.”

When they had finished shopping and returned to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry was thrilled to discover that Sirius and Lupin had arrived, and were chatting with Hermione’s mother.

“Hello Harry... Happy Birthday!” said Lupin with a smile.

“Ah... there you are,” grinned Sirius. “Happy Birthday Harry! I was thinking we should all go to tea together in muggle London - that way Hermione’s Aunt can join us as well...”

“Brilliant... That sounds great!” Harry replied, grinning back at Sirius as Hermione bounced happily on her toes beside him. 

“Oh... thank you Sirius! Really, you’re too kind!” said Hermione’s mother.

“Not at all Jean - I’m delighted to...”

The five of them left the Leaky Cauldron and met Hermione’s aunt who had been doing a bit of shopping in Muggle London nearby. Harry thought that Sirius had something fancy planned, but he relaxed when he saw where they were headed. Sirius, Lupin, and Hermione all grinned at the excitement on Harry’s face when they arrived at the Burgers, Fish, and Chips shop they had all been to over the Easter Holidays.

All in all, by the end of the day, Harry decided that despite his trepidation over his dream and the probable return of Voldemort, it had to be his best birthday in his memory, perhaps beating out the day that he’d discovered that he was a wizard, and even the day that he’d been emancipated. For the first time ever in his life, Harry was having what felt like a proper birthday party with family - with people he loved.

After tea, they all ended up at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, which seemed even brighter and more cheerful than when Harry and Hermione had departed at the end of the Easter Holidays. Not only had Sirius and Lupin thoroughly finished cleaning, apparently they had redecorated many of the rooms as well. Though most of the furnishings were still the same, the walls had fresh coats of brightly coloured paint and new wallpaper, and the ornamentation was more inviting and homey. There were even freshly cut flowers in the crystal vases in the parlour.

“Remus’s touch,” Sirius murmured, giving Harry a wink.

Cake and ice cream was served with fizzy drinks, and as Harry's birthday celebration rolled into the evening, trays full of snacks and butterbeers were brought up to the parlour. Mrs Granger and her sister were introduced to the dubious delights of Exploding Snap. Crookshanks and Hedwig, who had been over-the-moon to see each other again, quickly exited the parlour after the first loud bang.

“Don’t worry if your eyebrows get singed,” Sirius chortled, “Remus is good at sorting out that sort of thing.

Then came time for presents. The first birthday gift that Harry opened was from Hermione: a leather bound edition of _Lord of the Rings_. 

“Thanks Hermione,” Harry croaked tearily, “I only ever managed to finish _The Hobbit_ before Uncle Vernon caught me reading the books and took them away. He made me...” Harry trailed off, flushing at the horrified look on Mrs Granger’s and her sister’s face.

“...take them back to the school library,” Hermione sadly finished for Harry. “I remembered you telling me last year.”

Harry received a brand new pair of jeans and several t-shirts which were just the right size for him from Hermione’s mother; and Mrs Granger gave her sister a mock glare when she presented Harry with an enormous box of chocolates.

“This one is from both of us - me and Remus,” said Sirius as he passed Harry a rectangular package wrapped in shiny red and gold paper. “It was his suggestion... and a jolly good one I might add!”

“Is... is this a wand holster?” asked Harry, his eyes widening when he opened the box and saw what was inside.

“Yes indeed,” Lupin replied, his face crinkling as he smiled. “It’s enchanted so that only you shall be able to remove your wand...”

“Much safer than keeping it in the back pocket of your jeans!” Sirius added wryly.

But the best birthday gift of all, after Hermione’s mother and aunt had departed for their hotel and Harry had got ready for bed, was when Hermione entered his room through the door adjoining hers, dressed in her nightgown, and snuggled next to him. After a long minty kiss, Hermione curled her arm around Harry and lay her tawny head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly. 

The residual itching of Harry’s scar vanished nearly completely in Hermione’s warm embrace, and Harry knew that no nightmarish visions of Voldemort and Wormtail would keep him awake that night.

**~o0o~**

The weeks leading up to the World Cup passed far too quickly, but very cheerfully for Harry and Hermione. Harry got the worst bit out of the way the morning following his birthday when he told Sirius and Lupin about his scar hurting again and the “dream.”

“...There’s some bits I don’t quite remember, and I couldn’t really make out what Voldemort looked like. I know that I ought to tell Dumbledore, but I’m not sure what to put in a letter,” Harry muttered.

“Very sensible Harry,” said Lupin, nodding as he stroked his chin and peered at Sirius’s worried features. “You’re right of course - Dumbledore needs to know straight away, and it’s not entirely safe to put that sort of information in a letter.”

“Perhaps Harry should pay him a visit...” began Sirius.

“Not necessary,” Lupin interjected. “I’ll go... As long as I’ve got all the key bits of information, I can relay it to Dumbledore for now. Harry should just try his best to get on with his holiday. Why don’t you all go and do something nice - I’ll be back later this afternoon.”

After that first morning, Harry and Hermione spent most of their days exploring muggle London with the grown-ups, and occasionally without them. Evenings were spent reading their new school books and studying together in Number 12’s library. Hermione had dug into her trunk for her modern wizarding history books as well, because Harry was particularly keen to find out more about what they said about him and Voldemort. Of all of the history books, _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ turned out to be the most comprehensive.

“You were right Hermione - the information about me is pretty sparse actually... Nothing about me with the Dursleys at all, and only a bit about how my parents fought against Voldemort and that he killed them. All they really say about me is that when I was one year old I somehow survived Voldemort’s killing curse and that I have a lightning bolt shaped scar...”

“...and that they think you might have killed Voldemort with a really powerful burst of accidental magic,” said Hermione. “That book you’re looking at right now is the only one which also suggests the possibility that Voldemort might not actually be dead, but could have been badly injured, lost his powers, and gone into hiding. They obviously don’t really know what happened that night.”

“No _**wonder**_ Dumbledore’s so cautious and secretive - I suppose he doesn’t know who to trust - so he couldn’t tell the Ministry everything,” Harry's brows knitted in a frown as he continued scanning the text. “Looks like a whole _**load**_ of Voldemort’s supporters got off by claiming they were victims of some sort of mind-control - something called the Imperius Curse...” 

“A lot of them were in the Ministry and the Wizengamot... _**and some still are!**_ ” Harry gasped, his eyes popping in shock. “How much do you want to bet that Lucius Malfoy was one of those? Blimey! That’s a really creepy name for their group...”

“Yes,” Hermione nodded, feeling a little shiver even though it wasn’t cold. “Death Eaters they called themselves.”

“Hmmm... so that’s a picture of Voldemort’s insignia then,” said Harry, still looking pale. “A skull with a serpent in its mouth...”

“...the Dark Mark!” Hermione murmured, peering at Harry anxiously, hoping he wasn’t too upset. 

Harry shut the book when he’d finished reading and pushed it away from himself as if it were diseased, almost wishing that he hadn’t read it, a look of revulsion twisting his features. He couldn’t believe that so many of Voldemort’s supporters were still in positions of power. It was almost too horrible to contemplate, but Harry instinctively knew that many of those who had claimed to be Imperiused were lying. And there was no doubt in his mind that Mr Malfoy was one of them, 

Hermione shifted on the settee, moving closer to cuddle Harry. With Hermione’s arms around him, Harry began to feel a bit better. But after he had gone to bed that night, he still lay awake feeling unsettled for a good long while, his thoughts racing and scar itching, even with Hermione sleeping beside him. Harry couldn't get it out of his mind that once Voldemort had found some way to restore himself from whatever form he was in now, he was sure to seek out his former supporters. 

Harry felt Hermione stirring next to him and tried his best to put it out of his head. He put his arm around her and breathed in her fragrance, gently stroking her hair and kissing her forehead. A little smile crept to Hermione’s slumbering lips and Harry finally began to settle.

The days that followed were sweltering in London, and finally the day came when Hermione’s mother and aunt were due to return to Bournemouth. It was breakfast time at Number 12, and Mrs Granger and her sister were sitting in the dining room eating with the others before they said goodbye and drove back.

“You both look like you’re melting already. Either of you fancy a dip after we see your mum off, Hermione?” Sirius asked Harry and Hermione as they buttered their crumpets. “There’s a nice public swimming pool nearby.”

Jean Granger glanced at her sister questioningly; Joanne smiled and nodded.

“It’s really not that long of a drive to Bournemouth, and it’s got a lovely sandy seashore,” said Mrs Granger. “Why not come down with us and spend a day at the beach?” 

“Oh Mum... that’s a _**brilliant**_ idea!” Hermione exclaimed excitedly. “Harry’s never actually been for a day at the beach - we can bring a picnic...”

Sirius and Lupin peered at Harry, who looked quite eager.

“Er... yeah, that sounds great!” Harry grinned. “Besides going on the ferry to Corfe Castle with Hermione, the closest I ever got to the beach was when the Dursleys tried to escape all the owls Hogwarts was sending me. We took a boat out to a dinky little island in the middle of the sea.” 

“And I daresay I could use a bit of sun myself,” Lupin admitted dryly.

“Splendid!” Sirius beamed, “We can stop in a shop and pick you up some swimming trunks on the way, Harry.” 

Including shopping for the picnic lunch and for Harry’s trunks, the drive back to Bournemouth took a bit longer than usual but they arrived by midday. Soon enough, the grown-ups were lounging in beach-chairs slathering themselves with sunscreen while Harry and Hermione sat on beach towels nearby in the sand. There wasn’t a single cloud in the bright blue sky; the sun sparkled on the water, and the beach wasn’t too crowded as it was the middle of the week.

As Hermione sunned herself in a two piece bikini on the sandy beach, Harry found himself feeling much hotter than seemed reasonable. It wasn’t nearly as warm as it had been in London, but his face was blazing. 

It suddenly struck him that this was the most he’d ever seen of Hermione. Harry couldn’t help but be reminded of the way the pearly evening-gown had clung to her at Easter, and struggled valiantly to keep his eyes off her curves, glancing away every time she looked at him. Finally she managed to catch his eye.

“You alright Harry?” Hermione grinned as she regarded Harry’s red face and flustered expression.

“Er... yeah! Never better...” he lied in a rather squeaky voice, strategically repositioning the picnic basket to hide the growing bulge in his swimming trunks.

For some reason that seemed to send Hermione into a fit of giggles. Wickedly, Hermione snatched the basket away and flung a handful of golden sand at Harry.

“Oi... what the...?” Harry peered at Hermione with a half-amused, half bewildered expression. Then she leapt up from her beach towel, sending another shower of sand his direction.

“I am _**so**_ getting you back for that!” Harry chortled, jumping up himself. 

“You have to catch me first Harry...” Hermione giggled gleefully as she ran towards the water.

Harry splashed into the chilly waves after her with a huge grin plastered on his face, his anxiety vanishing as he cooled down and engaged in a water fight with Hermione. Jean Granger opened her eyes and peered at the waterline when she heard Hermione’s shrieks of laughter. She sighed happily to see her daughter enjoying herself so much with Harry; it was nice to see Hermione just relaxing and cutting loose for once.

Jean realised that she wasn’t the only one finding wistful joy watching the teens playing in the sea when she saw Sirius’s expression out of the corner of her eye. Sirius caught Jean looking at him and quickly rubbed his eye with his forefinger.

“Er... just got some sand in my eye,” he said with a slightly hoarse tone before grinning and giving her a roguish wink. 

Jean could have sworn she heard Remus issue a mild snort of mirth. She was surprised, as she had thought he was dozing behind those sunglasses as her sister Joanne was.

**~o0o~**

Hermione woke up very early on the morning that they were to leave for the Quidditch World Cup with her arm across Harry’s chest and her head resting on his shoulder. Her own heart raced as she snuggled closer to Harry and felt his heart beating slowly under the palm of her hand. She was surprised that he wasn’t awake himself yet, as Harry’s excitement about the upcoming match had been catching.

But then she realised that Harry must have lain awake until very late, unable to sleep from the anticipation. Hermione lay beside Harry, pressed up against him, feeling and hearing his gentle breathing for what felt like an hour until she was unable to resist any longer. 

This would probably be their last proper moment alone to cuddle like this for some time to come, as they had both been invited to visit with the Weasleys for the few days between the closing of the Quidditch Final and the trip to King’s Cross to catch the Hogwarts Express. Hermione leaned over Harry, tenderly stroking his messy black fringe with her fingers, and pressed her lips softly against his.

Harry wasn’t certain if he was asleep or awake as the reality seemed so like his dream. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around the affectionate girl with tawny tresses and pulled her closer as their kiss deepened. 

“Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty...” said Harry’s girlfriend as their lips wetly parted and a beam of early morning sunlight streamed through his window. 

Harry’s eyelids fluttered open and he gazed into those brown eyes which always seemed to shine like gold ingots at moments such as this, as did the mane of hair framing his girlfriend’s face. 

“Morning Hermione,” he said with a grin. 

Feeling a soaring tingle of elation, Harry gently pulled Hermione back towards him for another lengthy kiss, entwining his fingers in her messy golden ringlets now that he was properly awake. When it was finished, Hermione sighed happily and leaned back against the pillow, savouring the moment. 

Harry inhaled her minty aroma as he waited patiently for Hermione to get up and return to her own room. Crookshanks yawned and blinked at Harry, appearing to grin, his bushy orange tail coiled around Hedwig who had opened one eye.

“Er...” Harry said after a few minutes passed, starting to grow a bit anxious. Hermione sat up a bit and peered at Harry quizzically, seeing a reddening flustered expression on his face.

“I... er... I need to get up Hermione...” Harry stammered, smiling awkwardly at her.

“Okay...?” 

“Er... maybe you could... erm... get up first?” Harry gave Hermione a pleading look. When her eyes caught the tent in the bedcovers and widened in understanding, he blushed like a ripe tomato.

“Oh... of course Harry! I’m sorry!” Hermione bit her lip hard to stop herself from giggling nervously as she also began to turn pink. 

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when Hermione departed his bedroom and Crookshanks jumped off the wardrobe to follow her. Hedwig peered at Harry for a moment, then with a flap of her wings the snowy owl dove out of the open window to give him some privacy. Harry reached his hand under the covers and slipped it under the waistband of his pyjama bottoms to sort out his problem. 

Hermione had been drinking orange juice in the kitchen, sitting with Lupin and Sirius and waiting to eat breakfast when Harry finally arrived. She struggled mightily not to snort the juice out of her nose when Harry wouldn’t meet her eye and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped guiltily. 

“Morning Harry!” said Lupin loudly, as if he hadn’t seen a thing. Harry glanced at him gratefully, glad of the distraction.

“Good thing we’re wizards - the bacon and eggs are still piping hot,” said Sirius, lifting the silver cover from the platter as he gave Harry a grin and a wink. 

Lupin rolled his eyes at Sirius when Harry flushed. Lupin quickly piled scrambled eggs, sausages, and bacon onto Harry’s plate, passed him a stack of toast, and poured him a large glass of orange juice. Harry had never been more happy to dig into his breakfast and focus intently on his food. Harry was still eating when Sirius had finished and began to reveal the itinerary. 

“Right then...” said Sirius, “we’ll be meeting your friend Neville at the Leaky Cauldron at 9 am, picking him up in a muggle limousine. Your friend Luna will be meeting us at the campground with her father. I upgraded both of their tickets to box seats next to ours when he replied that he had been planning on taking Luna anyway. So you’ll still all be able to enjoy the match together...”

“The match isn’t until tomorrow evening, but I figured there’s not much point in having a splendid tent if we don’t put it to good use. So that’s why we’re going a day ahead. Arthur - your friend Ron’s father - sent me an owl yesterday to tell me that they won’t be arriving at the campsite until the crack of dawn tomorrow morning.” 

“Then you’ll be leaving with the Weasleys the following morning, so you can enjoy the last few days of the summer holidays with them. Arthur and Molly are quite fond of you two... and are very much looking forward to seeing you both again.” 

Sirius swallowed, looking like he was already missing Harry and Hermione. With a sigh, he passed them both what appeared to be little mirrors.

“What’s this for?” Harry asked curiously, wiping his bacony fingers on a napkin before picking up the mirror. 

“Communication!” Sirius replied hoarsely. “It’s a two-way mirror. Just say the name of those who you wish to speak to while touching or holding the mirror, and anyone who has another mirror like it will answer or receive the message when they’re holding or touching it themselves.”

“Oh!” gasped Hermione, her eyes widening. “They’re a bit like mobile-phones then!”

“Pardon?” Sirius lifted his eyebrows questioningly at Hermione. 

“It’s a muggle communication technology,” Lupin responded. “They were only just starting to catch on when you were imprisoned - too expensive for most muggles at the time, and quite bulky. But they’ve become fairly ubiquitous during your incarceration, and are growing smaller with each new model. They don’t have the visual capabilities of the mirrors - but I expect that it’s only a matter of time before they do.”

“Remarkable!” said Sirius, looking very impressed. “...In any case, these are actually quite rare in the wizard world. I have another one, and Lupin has one too - the ones I just gave to you two originally belonged to your mum and dad, Harry. At first there was only one for each Marauder, and Peter broke his. We often used them to chat when we were serving separate detentions - not that Remus was ever in detention mind you...”

“Though I no doubt deserved to be!” Lupin interjected 

“Nonsense! You did your utmost to keep James and me out of trouble...” Sirius protested. “In any case, Lily was absolutely brilliant - gifted like Hermione...” Hermione blushed furiously at Sirius’s high praise, and Harry grinned at her as Sirius continued. 

“...and after she became James’s girlfriend, she worked out how to Charm a mirror - _all by herself_ \- more or less reinventing whatever spell was used to create the original mirrors. As far as I’m concerned, those two belong to you both - were _**meant**_ for you! I gave Lily’s to Hermione...” 

“If either of you want or need to speak with me or Remus for any reason - any at all - please don’t hesitate to call us. You’ll be able to use them to keep in touch with each other too.”

Harry and Hermione peered at their mirrors, and then at each other in perplex, their hearts racing as they began to sense the deeper implications. Speechlessly, they both turned their gazes back to Sirius and Lupin, not knowing what to say, as “thank you” didn’t even begin to cover it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In canon there were only the two mirrors of course. But somehow this seems fitting... ;-)


	15. The 422nd

It was another blistering day in London. Harry and Hermione had to squint as the sun reflected from the gleaming black limousine which pulled up alongside the pavement outside Number 11 Grimmauld Place. Like everyone else who passed through this part of London, the chauffeur remarked on the oddity of the numbering of the townhouses, and the missing Number 12. The chauffeur opened the boot, but Lupin and Sirius insisted on stowing Harry and Hermione’s trunks, the tent, and their own luggage without his assistance. 

The chauffeur didn’t even bat an eye when an orange cat and a snowy owl entered the rear of the vehicle along with the four passengers. He had seen much stranger things going on in the back of the limo in his time as a driver - some of them not entirely legal - and he was paid very well to look the other way.

Neither Harry nor Hermione had ever ridden in a limousine before, and both were very impressed by the luxurious ride, not to mention being quite pleased with the air-conditioning. But neither of them were more amazed than Neville when they picked him up at the Leaky Cauldron, as the Hogwarts Express was the closest he had ever come to muggle forms of transportation.

“Wow!” Neville gasped, “This is really cool! I’ve never been in a car before.” 

“What about the Knight Bus?” asked Harry. “Ever been on that?”

“No!” Neville shook his head and peered through the tinted window at all of the other vehicles whizzing along the motorway. “Gran and I usually travel by floo to get most places - and going from the Leaky Cauldron to King’s Cross is the only time I'm ever in the Muggle world.” 

Several hours later, after stopping for lunch along the way, the limo pulled into a carpark near a campsite in the middle of a heath by the coast in Norfolk. Neville was so cheerful that he practically skipped out of the vehicle when they arrived. Harry and Hermione chortled as Lupin and Sirius regarded the happy lad in amusement.

“Thanks for the burgers and chips Mr Black!” said Neville, grinning at Sirius. “I’ve never had that before. And thanks for bringing me to the World Cup... Gran’s not really into quidditch.”

“It’s my pleasure Neville!” Sirius responded. “And in any case, it’s all down to Harry really...” 

“Yeah... yeah it is!” Neville was still feeling a bit surprised, but thrilled that Harry had considered him a close enough friend to bring him along. “Thanks for inviting me Harry!” 

“You’re welcome Neville!” said Harry, returning Neville’s grin. 

“Oh... look, it’s Luna!” Hermione waved as Luna approached them with someone who had wild looking silver hair and a spangly lemon-yellow suit which sparkled in the sun.

“Hi Hermione... Hello Harry and Neville!” shouted Luna, waving back and smiling beatifically.

“Ah... Mr Black I presume! Xenophilius Lovegood... but Xeno will do...” beamed the wizard with silver candy-floss hair as he shook Sirius’s hand. 

“Xeno it is then! Please... call me Sirius, and this is my good friend Remus...”

“A pleasure to meet you Xeno,” smiled Lupin, shaking Mr Lovegood’s hand as well.

“And you too Remus...” Mr Lovegood turned to address Sirius again. “Very kind of you to spring for ticket upgrades for myself and my daughter, Sirius! We would have had to arrive a week ago if not... By the way, has anyone ever mentioned that you look remarkably like Stubby Boardman, the lead singer of the Hobgoblins?” 

Seeing Harry’s bemused expression, Neville chortled and whispered in his ear, “It’s true actually! Your godfather does look a bit like Stubby...”

Neville trailed off as he and Harry and Hermione goggled at a pair of weary, grumpy looking men approaching them from just over a rise. Judging by the odd clothing ensembles, Harry and Hermione presumed that they were both wizards who hadn’t had much experience dressing like muggles. The one wearing a tweed suit with galoshes could have nearly passed for a muggle, but Neville palmed his face as he peered at the one wearing a kilt and a poncho.

“I may not know much about Muggle transport, but at least I know how to dress,” Neville murmured. 

“I helped Daddy with his outfit,” giggled Luna. 

“Oh!” said Hermione, reddening. “It’s... erm... a lovely colour Luna!”

Luna had to bite her own lip to restrain herself from laughing even harder.

“It’s alright Hermione...” she said. “I know Daddy looks a bit funny in that outfit! That was about the most I could get him to compromise his wardrobe. We’re all supposed to be dressing like muggles according to the dress code for the World Cup. There’s a hundred thousand wizards attending and we’re supposed to blend in so that we don’t draw attention to ourselves, but a lot of older wizards either don’t know how, or don’t want to dress like muggles...” 

“Alright then,” Lupin interjected, getting the teens’ attention. “According to Basil, we’re all in the first campground, just over that way...”

**~o0o~**

Sirius and Lupin erected the tent quickly, then helped Mr Lovegood set up his while Harry and Hermione wandered through the campground with Neville and Luna. They immediately spotted the misspelled sign designating the spot where the Weasleys would be planting their tent the following morning, as it was was only three spaces away.

The atmosphere was jubilant and festive, and even though wizards weren’t supposed to performing magic, security officials had largely given up trying to stop them. At the moment they were focused mostly on trying to keep the peace between some goblin vendors who had taken offence at the belligerent antics of a rowdy group of drunken leprechauns. 

“...tried to take us for fools,” one of the goblins was snarling. “As if we didn’t know their gold is worthless...”

“Now, now,” said the security wizard, “These look like perfectly good galleons to me...”

“Bah!” the angry goblin snorted. “Shows how much wizards know! That gold will vanish in a few hours...”

Several security officials were also chasing after an inebriated wizard dressed as a jester who was flying upside down on a broom very low through the campsite and giggling madly while knocking people’s drinks out of their hands.

When he heard someone squealing Hermione’s name, Harry spun around and grinned to see two giddy Gryffindors bearing down on them. Parvati and Lavender both gave Hermione and Harry a hug, and greeted Neville and Luna warmly. The six of them spent the rest of the afternoon together until evening fell.

Harry and Hermione, and Luna and Neville returned to their tents to find that Sirius and Lupin had a roaring campfire going already with a grill over it. Mr Lovegood was fascinated, and very impressed that Sirius had mastered the muggle art of the barbecue.

Eventually it came time to call it a night; Luna and her father retired to their tent. Harry and Hermione had peered into Sirius’s tent earlier in the day, but neither of them had got over yet that it that not only was the interior vastly bigger than the exterior, it also looked like the penthouse suite of a five star hotel inside. There was even a small fountain in the foyer.

“I love magic!” chortled Harry. “This is amazing! I doubt anyone would consider this ‘roughing it’ mind you!”

“I know...” Neville grinned. “Wizard tents are brilliant! Gran has one a bit like this - not that we’ve been camping very much together. Usually it’s just me and some grown-up cousins that I don’t see very often.”

“It looks awfully modern though... like a posh muggle residence!” said Hermione, biting her lip pensively. 

“Oh yeah... I suppose so,” Neville muttered. “Gran’s is decorated like our manor.”

“That’s because I bought this one at the beginning of the summer when I knew we’d be needing one,” said Sirius, overhearing as he entered with Lupin after dousing the campfire. “Let me just say that I found it much more appealing than the tent which belonged to my parents...” 

“No doubt!” Lupin smiled. “In any case, there are four bedrooms. Sirius and I can share one, and there’s one for each of you...”

“...which you can do with as you see fit!” Sirius concluded with a knowing smirk as he looked directly at Harry and Hermione. They both turned a bit pink; Lupin raised his eyebrows and rubbed his forehead, pretending he had no idea what Sirius was on about. Neville didn’t quite get it, and supposed it must be some sort of in-joke. 

After she was certain that Neville had gone to bed, Hermione slipped out of her room and stole into Harry’s with a wind-up alarm clock. Harry grinned at her nervously, delighted that they’d have at least two more nights to snuggle together, and relieved that Hermione would be leaving early in the morning, hopefully before he embarrassed himself again.

**~o0o~**

The campground was even more lively the following morning as every spot was now filled, and there were even more vendors hawking their wares.

“Harry, Hermione... over here!” shouted Ron when he spied them exiting their tent. “You made it! Good t’see you too Neville!”

“Morning, Ron,” said Neville, smiling awkwardly; he felt a bit better and less out of place when Luna poked her head out of the Lovegood tent and sidled up next to him.

“Hi Ron!” Harry grinned and peered at Mr Weasley who appeared to be struggling to light a fire with matches while Fred and George just looked on and chuckled at him. 

“What’s going on here?” asked Harry, looking at the broken matches strewn everywhere.

“Blooming daft if you ask me,” Ron rolled his eyes. “We’ve got a flat inside our tent with an oven and everything. But Dad wants t’do everything the muggle way.”

“At least he’s having fun with it,” said Ginny, who had just stepped out of the Weasley tent. 

“Here Mr Weasley, let me help you,” Hermione offered kindly, shooting a reproachful look at Ron and Fred and George as she got the fire off to a good start. Once it was nice and hot, Mr Weasley offered breakfast to everyone including Neville and Luna, and soon eggs and sausages were sizzling in frying pans over the flames.

Ginny gave a little shriek when a sound like a small gunshot went off, and Percy appeared in their midst.

“Stop doing that, you prat,” she snapped, only slightly mollified when Percy grinned at her benevolently and ruffled her hair.

“Just apparated Dad,” Percy said loudly and quite unnecessarily. As he helped himself to eggs and sausages, Percy spotted Harry and Hermione among the Weasleys and frowned slightly. 

Percy had never been Harry’s favourite Weasley - not so much due to Percy’s bossiness, but more due to the pompous air of superiority that Percy projected along with it. This was the first time that Harry had really felt uncomfortable around Percy though. There was something slightly odious about the way Percy was looking at him and Hermione, and Harry wondered what that was all about.

Those thoughts were soon swept aside when two more freckled redheads arrived by foot. Having apparated just outside the campsite and walked in, they both rolled their eyes at Percy as they grabbed helpings of breakfast. Harry took an instant liking to the new arrivals, suddenly realising who they were.

“Aha... You must be Harry Potter!” said the shorter, stockier redhead with an easy grin. “I’m Charlie - how’re you doing?”

“Great!” Harry replied, returning the smile. “How’s Norbert the Dragon?”

“Turned out that she’s a girl, so she’s Norberta now. But blimey, you actually remembered which Weasley I’m supposed to be!” Charlie laughed. “Not too shabby...”

“I suppose Hermione’s rubbed off on me a bit,” Harry chortled.

“Oh yeah, the brilliant one I’ve heard so much about! Nice to meet you too finally, Hermione...” Hermione blushed at being called brilliant and said “Hi,” as Charlie continued the introductions, “...and these are...?”

“Our friends, Neville and Luna...” said Harry.

After Neville and Luna both said “Hello,” the eldest Weasley brother, Bill, began a second cheerful round of introductions. He was taller; his long hair was tied back in a ponytail and a fang earring dangled from one ear. Bill had a definite aura of “cool” about him.

Two more apparition cracks startled the Weasleys and their guests. Harry looked up to see a pair of wizards who couldn’t possibly look more different from each other if they’d tried. 

One of them appeared to be a very austere looking, impeccably groomed head of a giant corporation with a toothbrush moustache, a crisp part in his slicked steely grey hair, and a perfectly pressed business suit. The other reminded Harry of a giant shifty looking bumblebee who had gone to seed in his much-too-tight-around-the-middle yellow and black striped quidditch outfit.

“Morning Barty, Ludo,” said Mr Weasley. “Kids, meet the two who brought the World Cup to Britain this year, Ludo Bagman, Head of Magical Games and Sports, and Barty Crouch, Head of International Magical Cooperation...”

“Ah... hello Arthur!” Barty Crouch interjected. “I've been meaning to speak to you, but I'm a bit busy just now, popping about looking for the Bulgarians. Someone said they might have wandered this direction.”

“Sorry, can’t say that I’ve seen them yet Barty.”

“No matter... I’ll catch up with them soon enough...”

“Good Morning Mr Crouch sir!” said Percy eagerly, who had been trying to get a word in edgewise. “Would you like a cup of tea sir?”

“What? Oh... thank you Weatherby! By all means,” Barty Crouch responded. “Splendid job on that cauldron report by the way! I’ll be sure to put in a good word with the Senior Undersecretary for you. You’re just the sort she’s looking for.”

Percy quivered with excitement, almost beside himself with glee at the news. Barty Crouch took two sips of tea absentmindedly and then disapparated, leaving Ludo behind. 

“Percy’s interning for Crouch at the Ministry,” Fred whispered in Harry’s ear. 

“Maybe one day Crouch will even remember his name!” George chortled in Harry’s other ear.

“Sounds like Percy’s already trying to move up though if he’s angling for an internship with the Senior Undersecretary,” Harry quietly retorted. “Isn’t the Senior Undersecretary sort of a deputy to the Minister?”

“Yes... That’s right Harry,” murmured Hermione. 

Ludo Bagman’s eyes widened when he spotted the mess of black hair between the two redheads and the bushy haired girl. The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stood on end when Bagman’s eyes flicked to his scar and narrowed slightly, a sly smile creeping to the Bumblebee’s lips.

“Harry Potter!” the shifty looking Ministry wizard murmured. “Well, well... jolly good to meet you Mr Potter!” Then Bagman’s eyes quickly darted back towards Mr Weasley. “By the way Arthur, fancy a wager on the match?”

“What? Oh... er... betting’s not really my thing Ludo!” said Mr Weasley.

“Oh, come on Arthur...! I’ll give you good odds...” Bagman shot Mr Weasley a winning smile.

“Er... maybe a Galleon on Ireland then.”

Bagman’s face fell at the dismal offer.

“We’ll take you on,” piped up Fred after hastily whispering with George. “Thirty Seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles and Three Knuts - Ireland wins but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch.”

Ludo Bagman’s eyes lit up greedily again. “Ireland wins but Bulgaria gets the Snitch? You’re on lads... I’ll take that bet.” 

“Now... really Ludo, they’re a bit young to be gambling!” Mr Weasley protested.

“Come now Arthur... don’t be a spoilsport! It’s all in good fun,” grinned Bagman as he hastily scribbled down Fred and George’s bet in his notebook.

“Right... well, it’s all on you then, boys!” sighed Mr Weasley. “Just don’t tell your mother! By the way Ludo, any news about Bertha Jorkins yet? She’s been missing for months now - shouldn’t you have someone looking for her?”

Harry stiffened and frowned at Bagman. Bertha Jorkins - for some reason the name sounded familiar, but where had he heard it before? Hermione glanced at Harry worriedly when she sensed his second odd reaction to Ludo Bagman. Harry shook his head slightly, and she made a note to herself to ask him about it later. Hermione wasn’t the only one to spot his distraction though. 

“Are you alright Harry?” asked Luna after she and Neville departed the Weasley campsite with him, Hermione, and Ron.

“Er...” said Harry.

“Why wouldn’t Harry be okay?” said Ron, who hadn’t noticed a thing.

“Oh... Mr Bagman! There’s something a bit creepy about him!” Luna replied bluntly. “Harry saw it too.”

Ron raised his eyebrows, trying his hardest not to laugh.

“I thought Crouch was the creepy one!” muttered Neville.

**~o0o~**

Dusk had fallen, and the lights came up around the stadium as it neared time for the Quidditch Final to begin. Harry and Hermione had spent most of the day with Luna, Neville and Ron, and a good part of the afternoon with Ginny as well. They had wandered the campsite purchasing souvenirs, playing games, and buying snacks at food booths. Then they had returned to their tents to clean up and prepare for their evening at the match.

“Thank you for the omnioculars Harry,” beamed Hermione, squeezing his hand tightly as they followed Sirius, Mr Weasley, Lupin, and Mr Lovegood up to the highest box in the stands. “That was really sweet of you to buy some for the others too.”

Indeed, Neville and Luna were just ahead of them on the purple carpeted stairs, chatting animatedly with Ginny, all of them with a pair of brass omnioculars dangling from their necks. Harry grinned back at Hermione and pulled her a bit closer to him, both of them pleased that Neville had gradually relaxed among the others throughout the day. Ginny, Luna, and Neville had gravitated towards each other all afternoon and Neville seemed to be delighted with the attention. Hermione felt a bit giddy from all the excitement, and really wanted to give Harry a proper hug and a kiss, but didn’t dare to in front of everyone. 

“Yeah... thanks again Harry!” said Ron, fidgeting with the omnioculars as he climbed the stairs beside them. “These things are smashing...” 

Ron glanced at Harry, seeing his arm around Hermione's middle. A peculiar expression flickered across Ron's features before he broke into a grin. 

“Er... what’s with the fancy get-ups?” Ron sniggered, peering at Harry’s tuxedo, his eyes lingering on Hermione in her pearly evening gown, as if seeing her for the first time. “You look like a penguin, Harry!” 

“Oh... these?” Harry chortled, “Just a little something we threw on. No... actually Sirius suggested it seeing as we’re all sitting in one of the Top Boxes with the Poshes and top Ministry Officials. I _**do**_ feel a bit like a penguin though to tell you the truth. Seems a bit weird for a sports match really...”

Finally they arrived at the Top Box and filed into the front row. Ginny and Luna whispered and giggled as they took the end seats with Neville sandwiched between them. Neville’s face reddened and Hermione smirked as she sat next to Luna. Harry couldn’t quite make out what Luna and Ginny had said to each other, but judging by Neville’s goofy expression, it had something to do with him. Harry grinned and flashed Neville a thumbs up.

As Ron settled into the seat on the other side of Harry, an odd creature in the seats behind him caught his attention.

“Urk... what’s that?” muttered Ron.

“Pardon?” Harry turned to see what Ron was gawking at. The creature had its face buried in its hands, but Harry would have recognised those bat-like ears anywhere.

“ _Dobby?_ ” said Harry incredulously. 

Hermione spun around to say hello as well, but when the frightened house-elf peeked out from behind its spindly fingers, they could both see it wasn’t Dobby at all. Indeed, there was something vaguely feminine about this particular house-elf.

“Did sir just call me Dobby?” squeaked the house-elf.

“Er... yeah! I’m really sorry... I thought you were someone I knew,” said Harry, flushing in embarrassment.

“But I knows Dobby too sir,” the house-elf squeaked. Her eyes flicked to Harry’s scar. “You is Harry Potter,” she gasped. “Dobby speaks of you often. My name is Winky sir, and I is being very pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Harry grinned. “It’s nice to meet you too Winky. So how is Dobby these days?” 

“Dobby is working at Hogwarts sir...” Winky frowned. “Meaning no disrespect sir, but I is not sure you is doing Dobby any favours - he is liking to be paid now sir! Dobby tells me that the Headmaster is giving him good wages...”

“Well that’s a good thing...” Hermione interjected.

“...and why shouldn’t he like being paid?” continued Harry, frowning himself now. “It’s about time...”

“No, no, no!” squealed Winky as she peered between her fingers, her big eyes bulging even more in horror. “House-elfs is not supposed to like being paid. We is liking to work hard for our masters and is doing whatever they is telling us to do, not racketing around and getting up to mischief unbecoming of a house-elf...”

“So he’s having a bit of fun too - after the way he was treated, I couldn’t be happier for him!” said Harry, beginning to feel as horrified as Winky appeared to be, but for precisely the opposite reason. Harry couldn’t fathom why anybody would _**want**_ to be a slave. Ron peered at the house-elf with great interest, seeming to hang on her every word.

“House-elfs is not supposed to be having fun sir - I is not liking heights, but I is a _**good**_ house-elf who obeys without any want of reward. So here I sits with my... er...” The house-elf seemed distracted momentarily, her eyes darting towards the empty seat beside her. 

“...I mean, I is saving a seat for my master sir! I is not letting scary heights stop me...” Winky glanced at the railing of the balcony from which they overlooked the stadium, and uttered another terrified squeal before hiding her face completely in her hands again and quieting. 

“So that’s a house-elf,” murmured Ron. “Weird little things, aren’t they?” he concluded with a wistful expression of longing, imagining having a house-elf of his very own. 

“I suppose so...” said Harry stiffly as Hermione shot Ron a dirty look. 

Ron seemed not to notice and began twiddling the knobs on his omnioculars as he peered at the crowd through them. Harry and Hermione were distracted from Ron when Minister Fudge appeared with a delegation of foreign dignitaries.

“Ah, hello Arthur...” Fudge beamed amiably and shook Mr Weasley’s hand. “I see you’ve brought the family. Good to see you again Warlock Black... Mr Lupin!” Fudge shook Sirius’s hand and Lupin’s warmly; he looked slightly uncomfortable when he reached out for Mr Lovegood’s hand though. “...Er... nice to see you again Xeno!”

Minister Fudge was pleasantly surprised when Mr Lovegood shook his hand vigorously, beaming at him. Luna’s father leaned in and murmured something in the Minister’s ear. Fudge gulped, wondering how seriously he should take Xenophilius's information. He recovered himself quickly though, and began introducing the foreign dignitaries as other officials and very wealthy looking wizards and witches filed into the Top Box. 

Mr Weasley and Sirius - whom Fudge kept referring to as Warlock Black - shook the hands of many important people. Percy looked almost apoplectic with jealousy when Minister Fudge blew right past him and moved along the aisle to Harry, whom the Minister greeted as an old friend.

“Splendid to see you again Harry!” Fudge beamed.

“You too sir!” Harry grinned at the Minister, whom he felt very warmly towards for emancipating him the previous summer. But Harry’s hopes that the Minister would simply leave it at that were soon dashed. 

“Harry... I’d like you to meet Mr Oblansk - the Bulgarian Minister of Magic - and the members of his delegation, among a few others...”

“Oh... er... certainly sir! Of course, I’d... er... be happy to.” Harry swallowed awkwardly as he stood up. 

As much as Harry was quite pleased to greet the Minister, he hated being on display and wished he were elsewhere, anonymously swallowed up in the crowd. Harry felt a load better when Hermione stood up beside him and took his free hand, smiling brightly. Sirius nodded supportively and mouthed the words “keep smiling,” at him. 

Harry followed Sirius’s silent instruction, and felt much less ridiculous now about wearing a tuxedo to a quidditch match - especially with Hermione at his side looking elegant in her gown as cameras flashed while he shook the hands of foreign officials and other important people. An expression not altogether unlike Percy’s crossed Ron’s features as he watched Harry greeting all the VIP’s. 

“Blimey! ... Glad that’s done with,” Harry whispered with obvious relief as he sat back down, hoping that the worst was over, not noticing the look on Ron’s face.

“Yeah... I bet!” Ron muttered darkly.

“Oh no,” groaned Harry, looking past Ron, “the Malfoys!”

Ron whirled around in his seat, envy forgotten when he spied the enemy approaching. Hermione scowled and tightened her grip on Harry’s arm when the pale boy with platinum blond hair peered at her with obvious disgust. Mr Weasley narrowed his eyes at the elder Malfoy, no doubt recalling the fight they’d had in Flourish and Blotts.

“Warlock Malfoy... delighted...” said Minister Fudge, looking anything but delighted as he stood up stiffly and politely reached out to shake Lucius Malfoy’s hand.

“Ah, Fudge,” said the Warlock with long platinum hair, a sneer curling his lip as he looked down the row of Weasleys, his eyes finally coming to rest on Harry and Hermione. “My, my... the standards really _**are**_ slipping these days. Well... with a bit of luck, the Ministry will be cleaning house in the near future.” 

“This Box appears to be a bit overbooked, dear,” the elder Malfoy said to his wife, who looked more than a bit embarrassed. “Come along Draco, the _**other**_ Top Box looks a bit less crowded.” 

“Slimy gits!” fumed Ron. Harry and Hermione couldn’t agree more

As the Malfoys departed, everyone’s tension drained away - except for Harry’s when he spotted Ludo Bagman charging into the Primary Top Box. 

“Well, time to get this show on the road, eh Minister?” said Bagman excitedly. 

“Ready when you are Ludo,” the Minister replied, feeling much better now.

Ludo Bagman placed the tip of his wand against his throat, and his voice filled the stadium. The crowd of one hundred thousand strong roared and cheered as Bagman introduced the 422nd Quidditch World Cup. Hermione bit her lip in consternation.

“It can’t _**possibly**_ be the 422nd World Cup if it began in 1473 and they only hold it once every four years as they claim!” Hermione whispered in Harry’s ear. “It has to be the 130th, and the first one must have been held in 1474.” 

Luna overheard her and leaned in to quietly respond. “You’re right Hermione - it would have had to start in year 306 for this to be the 422nd, and broomsticks weren’t even used for transportation until 962... Daddy says that the IAQ just made it up to sound more impressive. It actually did start in 1473, but nobody could remember what happened in the 1877 World Cup, so they replayed it in 1878 and it’s been continuing every four years from that point on.”

“Who cares?” snorted Ron as he peered over the balcony through his omnioculars, goggling at the field down below and drooling. “The Bulgarian mascots have just entered the stadium...”

“My word, so they have,” muttered Mr Weasley, quickly wiping his glasses on his shirt and replacing them for a better viewing. “Looks like they’ve brought Veela.”

Fred, George, and Neville were also gawking and drooling over the ledge at the sultry women dancing on the field below to the Bulgarian National Anthem. The golden hair of the Veela seemed to flow through the air in slow motion as they danced, and they appeared to be bathed in starlight. They were wearing gossamer wisps of fabric which revealed much more of their silvery glowing skin than it covered - and nearly the entire stadium fell under the Veela’s spell. Luna started giggling, and Ginny rolled her eyes. 

Harry smirked in amusement and felt a surge of elation when he saw everyone’s attention focused intently on the field below. He had his own enchanting beauty in a pearly evening gown to thank for standing by him during the daunting task of greeting all the VIP’s. While everyone else was looking the other way, Harry took the golden opportunity to steal a steamy kiss from Hermione. When he came up for air, Hermione was blissfully surprised and breathless, her lips still tingling. 

Harry’s amusement turned to alarm when he saw Ron with one leg over the railing, preparing to dive off the balcony into the midst of the Veela at least a hundred metres below. He grabbed Ron by his belt and hauled him back to his seat just as the music stopped.

“What’d you do that for Harry?” snapped Ron.

“He just saved your life!” said Hermione, her haughty tone leavened by the tingly warm glow of satisfaction that not even beautiful Sirens could distract her Harry. “And if you’ve got your eyes back in your head, you may want to use them to look at the Irish Mascots...”

Ron was still pining over the Veela, decidedly uninterested in the Leprechauns and their light show... until gold coins rained down from the shamrock formation above them. Ron’s face lit up as the gold collected in heaps on the floor of the balcony.

“I’m rich,” he shouted, gleefully grabbing at the piles of gold and stuffing it into his pockets before shoving a handful of galleons at Harry.

“There you go,” Ron yelled happily, “for the Omnioculars. Now you’ve _**got**_ to buy me a Christmas present. Hah!”

Harry glanced at Hermione uncertainly. “Should I tell him?” 

“Maybe you’d better Harry...” she said sympathetically. “He’ll be wondering where the rest of it went later if you don’t.”

“Tell me what?” said Ron in exasperation. “What’s _**with**_ you two today? Why won’t you take the gold Harry?”

“It’s _**Leprechaun**_ Gold Ron. It’ll vanish in a few hours...” Harry peered at his friend earnestly. “You know I was only joking when I said that earlier about the Omnioculars being an early Christmas Present don’t you?”

“Er... yeah! I know...” said Ron, deflating. “I just wanted to be able to pay you back...”

“You’re my _**friend**_ Ron! I don’t care if you _**ever**_ pay me back. I just want to share what I have with you.”

“Th...thanks Harry!” Ron swallowed glumly, and tried his best to bury his pride.

Finally the teams were introduced, and Leprechaun Gold and Veela were forgotten completely when Viktor Krum soared through the stadium; Ron was the biggest Krum fan of all. He had even bought a magically animated Krum figurine before the game. And once the match began, the thrill of watching Viktor Krum’s daring aerial manoeuvres took everyone’s breath away.

The match was fast paced and intense, with injuries on both sides. Emotions ran high; the Veela and the Leprechauns nearly got into it with each other several times during the game. The Irish team was a more cohesive unit by far, but as Harry watched the 422nd Quidditch World Cup Final - or more accurately, the 130th - he knew that Bagman was going to lose his bet with the Weasley Twins. Krum was just that good - and so were the Irish Chasers. 

“I don’t understand,” Ron shouted over the hubbub of the roaring crowd following the game. “Why did Krum catch the Snitch while the Irish Team were still 160 points ahead? What an idiot!”

“They were too far ahead for the Bulgarians to catch up Ron. He wanted to end it on his own terms,” said Harry, knowing that he would have done exactly the same thing himself in Krum’s place. 

“Krum looks a dreadful mess,” said Hermione, glancing at the bloodied Seeker then turning to gaze at Harry. “He may be really grumpy, but he’s _**almost**_ as brave as you are Harry...”

“He is, isn’t he... flying injured like that!” chimed in Luna, beaming at Harry as she leapt up and down gleefully next to Neville. “Still, it's only a bloody nose and black eyes... he didn’t catch it while flying with a broken arm like _**you**_ did Harry...”

“Er... that Wronski Feint was a real masterstroke - I can’t wait to give it a go myself...” Harry deflected, trying his utmost not to show the swell of pleasure he was feeling at being compared favourably to the world's most highly regarded professional Seeker by Hermione and Luna. 

“Yeah... Krum was amazing!” yelled Ginny as she bounced around happily too. “But the Irish Chasers were brilliant!”

Neville wanted to get a word in as well, but he was too tongue-tied as Ginny and Luna both had him in their clutches as they jumped joyously, cheering and squealing loudly in his ears. 

The celebration for the Irish victory carried on late into the evening. Everyone ended up in front of the Weasley tent for a raucous party around a blazing fire; even Parvati and Lavender, and Seamus and Dean showed up. Parents looked the other way, pretending that they didn’t see a thing when Seamus surreptitiously passed a little flask of Firewhiskey among the younger teens. When Harry noticed Ron hogging the spot next to Seamus, he wondered where Dean was.

“He’s over there chatting up Ginny...” giggled Hermione slightly tipsily. 

“Oh yeah...” chortled Harry, very relieved that Ginny really seemed to be over her crush on him. “It looks like Luna and Neville are getting on well too.... You alright Hermione?” Harry asked when she giggled again.

“I... I think so,” Hermione blushed. “I... I only had one sip Harry - but it was enough for me.”

“Me too,” Harry grinned. “I had one good swallow and my throat still feels like it’s on fire... It’s funny, I didn’t really notice that so much when Dumbledore gave us a sip after killing the Locket...”

Percy arrived with his girlfriend Penelope Clearwater and scowled at his father when he saw the noisy party going on in front of their tent. Penelope protested that the party looked like fun when he turned around and stalked away with her. The party continued for a good while, but finally parents decided that it was time for bed and everyone made their way through the campsite to their respective tents.

“Well, that was quite a bash. The Weasleys certainly know how to have a good time,” said Sirius with a grin after walking Luna and her father back at their tent.

“So how are you three holding up?” asked Lupin, raising his eyebrows and giving them a knowing smile. “Do I need to prepare any hangover potions?”

“Certainly not for me!” said Neville, looking thoroughly embarrassed. “I... er... it tasted horrible... and I ended up spewing it all over Luna.”

“She didn’t seem to mind though Neville,” giggled Hermione. “Luna still seems to like you.” 

Neville grinned awkwardly. He still couldn’t quite believe that he’d actually managed to semi-successfully navigate a social event, and had actually talked to girls about things which had nothing to do with school. Luna had actually been much more fun to talk to than he had been led to believe by many of his schoolmates. And even more incomprehensible to Neville, Ginny and Luna had actually seemed to enjoy his company. 

“Er... Hermione and I should be good,” said Harry. “We only had a little bit, and that was plenty... most of the effects have already worn off. I hope Ron doesn’t get into too much trouble though - I think he and Seamus drank the most.”

“Ah... not unless that Percy lad spills the beans to their mum. ” Sirius shook his head. “Ron should be alright - it was a very small flask, and Arthur wouldn’t have looked the other way if he thought it would cause too much fuss.” 

“Still, this was a special occasion,” Lupin admonished, looking quite pleased. “Firewhiskey is much stronger than Butterbeer and not generally advisable for consumption by those under seventeen - I’m glad you were all sensible about it.” 

“I have to say, you were much more sensible about it than James and I were at your age in any case Harry!” Sirius chuckled. “We were both quite fortunate that Pomfrey treats patient confidentiality with high regard and didn’t turn us in to McGonagall.” 

Once back at the tent, Harry changed into his pyjamas and crawled into bed. He cheerfully replayed some key moments of the match in his mind’s eye, especially some of Viktor Krum’s more spectacular moves, determined to reproduce them at a later date on his Firebolt. At least he did so until he heard his door open and spied Hermione tiptoeing into his room with her alarm clock.

Harry grinned as Hermione clambered into bed beside him. They shared several long humid kisses, arms wrapped around each other, each kiss growing deeper and steamier until they fell apart panting, both of them knowing this would be their last chance at privacy for a long time to come. 

Hermione peered at Harry, her face glowing and flushed, messy curls of tawny hair strewn across her cheeks. Harry’s face looked equally torn between longing and anxiety, and Hermione knew that he needed a short while to collect himself as much as she did to simply enjoy a peaceful cuddle. 

“Erm... I... I’ll be right back Harry... just a few minutes... er... I forgot... something... in my room...”

“Er... alright Hermione?” Harry’s eyes widened in perplex. Hermione never forgot anything. But as her eyes met his, the message came through loud and clear and they both blushed a deeper shade of red and grinned at each other nervously. 

“Oh... alright Hermione! Er... see you in a few minutes then... just one more kiss before you go maybe?” Harry said impishly. Hermione nodded, eyelashes fluttering as she smiled shyly; their lips met humidly one more time as they cradled each other in their arms with caresses which roamed slightly further than they had in the past. 

Hermione departed Harry’s room, and by the time she returned, they were both much more relaxed, though neither could meet the other’s eyes at first without reddening again. But that didn’t matter, as Hermione was ready to just snuggle next to Harry now, curled under his arm with her tresses spilling over his shoulder, and her own arm across his chest. 

They both let out contented sighs, and Harry began to drift, feeling at peace with the world.


	16. Stronger Together

The wind rushed by Harry in an exhilarating whoosh as he zoomed through the night skies, his eyes peeled for the Snitch. As he soared above the stadium full of cheering spectators the starlight cast a pearly sheen on the bare skin of the unclothed girl whose arms were clasped tightly around his waist, her billowing golden hair glowing as brightly as any Veela’s. 

“There it is Harry,” shouted Hermione, “I see it... the Snitch is over there!” 

Harry spied the Snitch below, but knew he’d never reach it before the other Seeker if they spotted it. Harry went into a spiraling dive to distract the opposing team’s Seeker... and if that didn’t work, Hermione’s enchanting presence on the back of his broom should do the trick. The roaring crowd was sure he was going to crash and Hermione shrieked in his ear. 

**“HARRY!”** she screamed. **“WAKE UP!”**

Harry bolted upright in a panic. Hermione’s face was terror-stricken as she shook him, and the roaring crowd sounded very real. There was a boom outside and the tent shook. Sirius burst through the door into Harry’s room, his face ashen.

“Don’t worry about being in pyjamas - no time to dress,” shouted Sirius, “You need to get to safety now.”

“What’s happening?” gasped Harry, strapping his wand holster around his middle as Sirius bustled him and Hermione to the entrance of the tent.

“Not sure yet! Some sort of attack...” Sirius replied. “Lupin’s already got Neville and gone to get Luna and her father - they’re headed to the woods nearby...”

As they hurried outside, hundreds of wizards and witches in pyjamas and nightgowns were running and screaming to avoid fiery bursts of magic and exploding tents. Harry and Hermione could just make out through the smoke a group of thirty or forty hooded and masked figures shooting spells apparently at random. 

“There’s the Weasleys, stick with them and get to the woods!” barked Sirius. “I’m going to help Arthur and the Ministry put a stop to this...”

“Sirius, wait...” Harry shouted as Ron grabbed him.

“Bloody Hell, Harry!” yelled Ron, his freckles standing out against his pale face. “We’ve got to go...” 

Harry kept a tight grip on Hermione’s arm as he reluctantly allowed Ron to lead them both towards the Twins who were just ahead scurrying towards the woods with Ginny. Harry, Ron, and Hermione lost sight of Fred, George, and Ginny in the smoke and the throng of frightened wizards and witches.

By the time they arrived in the woods, they couldn’t see where the others had got to among the groups who were huddled behind bushes and trees. But there was one young wizard whom Harry recognised right away. Draco Malfoy stood nonchalantly by a tree, grinning malevolently, his eyes glittering.

Harry glanced in the direction that Malfoy was looking and his blood began to boil. Four people - two of them very small - were floating high above the campground, apparently being held aloft by the spells of the masked wizards. Laughing drunkenly, several of the hooded figures pointed their wands and began vanishing the nightclothes of the screaming woman and the children in the air. 

“That’s the Muggle campsite manager and his family...” Ron moaned. “That’s just sick!”

“Is that the only way your daddy can still get someone to put out for him?” Harry snarled at Malfoy. “Looked like your mum was going to hold out on him tonight for making her look bad in front of the Minister earlier!”

“Watch your mouth Potter,” Malfoy sneered, his laughter cold and mirthless. “You wouldn’t want them to find your pet Muggle and have their way with _**her**_ would you? That could be her up there!”

Hermione gasped in horror and clutched her dressing gown a bit tighter around herself. 

“Hermione’s a witch...” snapped Harry, reaching for his wand.

“Harry - NO!” Hermione grabbed his hand. “He’s not worth it!”

“Mudblood - Muggle - what’s the difference?” Malfoy smirked cruelly. “You’d better keep your eye on her Potter. There’s a new order coming... soon they’ll all know their proper place - beneath a pureblood or six feet under.”

“The hell with this!” growled Harry, “I’m not staying in these woods while your daddy and his friends ruin things for everyone.”

“Harry... where are you going?” yelled Ron, “Come back... Hermione...”

“If Harry’s going to fight them, then I’m going too...” Hermione shouted back at Ron, shooting Malfoy a vicious glare.

“NO! STOP! Hermione...” 

“What’s the matter Weasel-boy?” Malfoy chortled, “Afraid that Potter’s pet is going to die along with him? Surprised you had it in you actually... I didn’t know you knew what a girl was yet.”

“What are you talking about?” Ron's face reddened as he glowered at Malfoy.

“I saw the way you looked at Granger. I have to give you credit Weasleby, though I don’t know what you see in that buck-toothed Mudblood...”

“Shove off Malfoy,” Ron snarled. He fumbled for his wand and his face fell. It was gone. 

“Pathetic,” sneered Malfoy, “You can’t even hold onto your wand.”

**~o0o~**

“He’s one of them Hermione - I just know it!” Harry fumed as he darted back to the edge of the chaotic campground. “Mr Malfoy’s behind one of those masks...”

“You’re probably right Harry...” began Hermione before shrieking, _**“Look out!”**_

Harry and Hermione both dodged the jet of red light fired at them by one of the hooded wizards. Harry wished he knew some fighting spells, but he had thought of at least a few that might possibly be useful. He swished and flicked his wand at a steel tent pole from a nearby demolished tent. The pole lifted a couple of metres off the ground. Harry twirled his wand and sent the steel pole spinning through the air.

The startled Death Eater - for Harry was certain that was what the hooded and masked wizards were - ducked and the tent pole missed him. But the Death Eater standing behind him who had just stunned a Ministry wizard wasn’t so lucky. The steel pole clobbered him on the head with a ringing sound and he collapsed. 

The first Death Eater fired another spell, but Harry dove and rolled out of the way as the tent behind him exploded in a burst of flames. Terrified and angry, Hermione used the first spell she could think of before the masked wizard could aim another deadly looking one.

“Diffindo,” she yelled, slashing her wand. 

The Death Eater screamed and fell to his knees, dropping his wand. He clutched at his side and keeled over, a bloom of red spreading across his white robes. Harry gaped at Hermione and she peered back at him with shock written all over her face, suddenly feeling guilty for using such a dangerous spell on a human being. 

“MORSMORDRE!” A voice rang out loud and clear, startling them both; they whirled around to see through the smoky haze, a shadowed figure standing in darkness near the tents. As Harry and Hermione both caught their breath, a glowing green cloud lit up the night-sky. The cloud roiled and formed into a shape which they both recognised.

“The Dark Mark!” muttered Harry. 

He and Hermione glanced back towards the tents but the wizard was already gone. Yells of fright and apparition cracks could be heard throughout the campground. Through the haze, Hermione could see several of the hooded wizards vanishing, and assumed that the Death Eaters were fleeing.

“There they are!” they heard Ron shouting. Harry glanced up and spied Ron running towards them with Luna and Neville in tow. 

_**“Are you both mental?”**_ bellowed Ron, but then he saw the two masked figures lying on the ground and quieted, his face a picture of confusion. 

“Where’s Lupin?” Harry asked, ignoring Ron’s bewilderment.

“He left us in the woods with a large group of other kids and came back to fight,” said Luna matter-of-factly.

“Did _you_ both do that?” asked Neville, peering at the masked wizards on the ground, looking awed. 

“Er...” said Harry, swallowing nervously as he glanced at Hermione, not sure what to say.

“Yes!” Hermione said in a small voice, hoping that they hadn’t killed either of the wizards. 

She heard sobbing and turned around, looking at the spot where the wizard who had set off the Dark Mark had stood. Harry peered the same direction and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw a little figure who hadn't been there a few moments ago.

“Winky?” he muttered. Before Harry could work out what was happening, numerous loud pops and cracks startled the five young wizards, Harry spun around seeing at least twenty wizards surrounding them, wands aimed.

 **“DUCK!”** Harry yelled as he grabbed Hermione and Luna, shoving them to the ground. Neville barely managed to pull Ron down in time as bolts of red lightning crackled and flew over the top of their heads, sparking and rebounding.

 **“STOP!”** roared Mr Weasley. “That’s my son and his friends...”

Still shaking badly, Harry clambered to his feet and helped Hermione and Luna return to theirs as Ron and Neville stood up.

“Which of you did it?” barked a severe man whom Harry recognised immediately. It was Crouch, looking panicked and wild eyed, strands of his slicked hair clinging to his sooty and sweaty face. “...Which of you conjured the Dark Mark!”

“Don’t be ridiculous Crouch,” growled a grizzled wizard with mangled features and a large, spinning, electric blue glass eye. “That’s Potter and Arthur Weasley’s boy, and a few of their friends...”

“Oh... yes... yes of course!” Crouch muttered, seeming to return to his senses. Several more apparition cracks echoed, startling everyone, and Sirius appeared with Bill Weasley and a few other wizards that Harry didn’t recognise.

“Harry...?” gasped Sirius, his eyes wide with shock, “Is everyone alright?”

“Er... yeah. I think so...” said Harry breathlessly, his heart still thudding against the wall of his chest. “What about Lupin?”

“He’s fine,” Sirius replied shortly. “So what’s going on here?”

“The Dark Mark...” the gruff looking wizard muttered as his glass eye spun around grotesquely. “It was conjured from somewhere in this vicinity!”

“Ah... I see, Mad Eye,” Sirius nodded. “Harry, did any of you see who conjured it?”

“Er...” Harry gulped, “I couldn’t get a good look at the wizard, but he was standing right over there...”

As the wizards all drew nearer to the spot which Harry was pointing at, Crouch’s face turned even whiter than it had been. A sobbing house-elf was sitting there with a wand in her lap.

“That’s my wand!” squeaked Ron, “What’s my wand doing here?”

“That’s a very good question!” said a wizard that Harry didn’t know. “What were you doing with that wand Elf?” The terrified house-elf squealed and sobbed even louder.

“Come off it Amos!” Mr Weasley looked incredulous. “You can’t possibly think..."

“And yet here she sits - bold as brass with a wand in her lap,” said Amos coldly. “That’s clause three of the Wand Use Code broken right there...”

“It wasn’t Winky,” snapped Hermione, who was almost in tears herself. “Harry just _**told**_ you it was a wizard.”

“Did either of you actually _**see**_ him cast the spell? Eh?” Amos growled. “Well...? _**Did you?”**_

“Easy now Diggory,” said Sirius warningly. 

Hearing Amos’s surname, it occurred to Harry that this might be the father of Cedric - the Hufflepuff whom he’d lost a quidditch match to in third year when he’d fallen off his broom after being swarmed by dementors - and he was beginning to take a serious dislike to Mr Diggory.

“I _**heard**_ him...” Harry asserted through gritted teeth. “I turned around and he was standing there - then he vanished. Winky didn’t show up till after...”

“But you could have misheard, and you might not have seen the Elf at first!” Amos Diggory’s eyes narrowed, then he turned back towards Winky. “I’ll take that wand Elf... we’ll soon see what spell was last performed...”

“It doesn’t matter!” Mr Crouch suddenly barked, having recovered himself somewhat. “Unless you are proposing that I teach my house-elf how to perform the Dark Mark!” 

“And don’t forget that’s Potter you’re talking to Diggory!” growled the wizard that Sirius had called Mad Eye. “I’m sure he knows the difference between the sound of a wizard’s voice and a house-elf’s...”

**~o0o~**

“That was horrible, the way they were treating her!” said Hermione, angry tears trickling down her cheek. “Mr Diggory calling her Elf - as if she didn’t have a name. And Mr Crouch sacking her for running away... She was frightened and he didn’t even care - like Winky wasn’t even human.”

“Well she’s not,” said Ron. 

Crookshanks narrowed his eyes and his bushy tail began to twitch. Harry frowned and opened his mouth to retort, but Hermione had already begun to lay into Ron furiously.

“That doesn’t mean she hasn’t got any feelings Ron. It’s _**disgusting**_ \- slavery is all it is...”

“You heard her back at the match,” Ron interjected hotly. “House elves _**like**_ being bossed around - old Winky was only upset because she got sacked...”

Which wasn’t quite how Harry recalled it. Winky had been very upset about something else before she had got sacked. Fuming himself now, Harry tried to get another word in edgewise to ask Ron how much he’d like being a slave - and to point out that Winky hadn’t exactly enjoyed being ordered to save Crouch one of the highest seats in the stadium - but Hermione beat him to it again.

 **“It’s people like _YOU_ Ron, who prop up rotten and unjust systems,”** Hermione shouted, **“just because you’re too lazy...”**

Hermione halted in midstream when Sirius, Bill, and Mr Weasley entered the Weasley tent with ‘Mad Eye’ after conferring outside. 

Everyone had returned to their tents after determining that Winky had done nothing illegal, and that whoever had cast the Dark Mark was long gone. Luna had thanked Harry and Hermione with hugs and said goodbye, as she and her father were packing up their tent right then and there and heading home. Lupin had departed as well, taking Neville home by side-along apparition. Harry and Hermione had dressed hurriedly and been brought to the Weasley tent by Sirius, where the Weasleys were already packing to return to the Burrow on the Knight Bus.

Sirius addressed Harry and Hermione as the heavily scarred wizard with the swiveling electric blue glass eye clomped forward. Harry only then realised that the intimidating wizard had a wooden leg. Crookshanks purred and arched around the scary looking wizard’s one good leg. Hermione shrank back and scooted a bit closer to Harry, shivering slightly, feeling a bit creeped out by the wizard’s eye.

“After chatting with Mad Eye, it seems that proper introductions are necessary,” Sirius began. “Harry, Hermione... meet Alastor Moody. He’s an old friend from before - he knew your father Harry, and Dumbledore. And he’s an Auror...”

“ _ **Was**_ an Auror,” Mr Moody corrected, “technically I’m sorta retired now - I was just here tonight fillin’ in as added security for the World Cup. And as I’ll be seein’ you lot real soon at Hogwarts, I thought it’d be worthwhile sayin’ hello good and proper...”

“You’re going to be at Hogwarts?” blurted out Ron, unable to help himself. “How come?” 

“You’ll see soon enough Weasley,” said Moody with an ugly grin. “Anyway, I also wanted to say nice work to you both, Potter, Granger! ... Thanks t’you two, a couple o’ scumbags are on their way to Azkaban after a visit to Saint Mungo’s.” 

“Er...” Harry gulped, hardly daring to ask... hoping one of them was Mr Malfoy. “Who were they? Did you get any more?”

“The rest disapparated before they could be apprehended,” Moody snorted. “They hoofed it after the Dark Mark appeared! As to the pair you both nabbed... a couple o’ low level thugs who’d been hired to cause a bit of trouble...” 

“Oh!” said Harry, feeling perplexed and oddly disappointed. “I... I thought they were Death Eaters...” 

“I don’t doubt that some of ‘em were. They were all wearin’ the get-up,” replied Moody. “Whoever put those two up to it was surely among the rest. Unfortunately the ones that you and Granger captured didn’t have any idea who was payin’ them or who was behind the other masks - though I reckon I could guess who some of 'em were...”

Mr Weasley gave a little cough, and Alastor Moody decided that he’d probably said enough for the time being.

“Heh! ... Can’t really say any more without any proof I suppose. Right then... I’m off for now, but I’ll be seein’ you again real soon.” 

Moody gave Harry and Hermione a nod, who were both still a bit too taken aback by Moody’s imposing presence to say more than “Bye,” then he turned around and grimaced at Mr Weasley, Bill, and Sirius.

“Arthur, Sirius... expect I’ll be seein’ you around too. Good to have you on board as well, Bill!” And with that, Moody stomped out of the tent and disapparated.

“I expect Molly will horrified to hear that you both put yourselves in the path of danger again, but Alastor isn’t wrong,” said Mr Weasley, smiling uncertainly at Harry and Hermione as he put his hand on Ron’s shoulder, “That was quite impressive, all things considered... Anyway, come along Ron - let’s give these two a moment to say goodbye to Sirius.” 

Sirius beamed at Harry and Hermione proudly as Mr Weasley stepped out of the tent with Ron. But as he regarded them both cannily, Sirius could see that they were still feeling unnerved.

“Well done you two!” he said quietly. “A pair of dangerous individuals are in custody right now...”

“Will they be alright?” Hermione interjected, her features full of anxiety, an image of a wizard in bloody robes still fresh in her mind. “Mr Moody didn’t really say.”

“Yes!” replied Sirius, raising his eyebrows when he spied worry in Harry’s expression as well. “St Mungo’s Healers will have them both fixed up in no time. Please... don’t beat yourselves up or be too concerned for the two who attacked you both - you only did what was necessary to defend yourselves, and I care much more about your safety than I do about theirs.” 

“Yes... it _might_ have been safer for you to remain in the woods, but you both showed your true mettle by stepping up to fight evil. I couldn’t be prouder of you both...”

**~o0o~**

The Knight Bus was noisy and full, packed like an enormous purple tin of sardines. Harry had never seen so many people on the bus, all of them returning to their homes from the World Cup. But the Weasleys somehow still managed to squeeze on board with Harry and Hermione. There wasn’t enough room for everyone to stay together though; Harry eventually found a spot on the top deck of the triple-decker bus where he and Hermione could fit.

Harry was glad for that, as he didn’t think he could tell her what he was feeling in front of the others. There was only one seat left though, and Harry offered it to Hermione, prepared to stand for as long as he had to. 

“Don’t be silly Harry,” said Hermione. “There’s plenty of room for both of us. I can sit on your lap...”

“Er...” Harry gulped and glanced nervously around at the throng of wizards and witches on the upper deck.

“It’s alright Harry,” Hermione murmured. “Nobody will think anything of it as it’s so crowded.”

“Yeah... I suppose you’re right,” Harry replied, brightening as a fluttery feeling in his middle loosened the knot of anxiety in his stomach. 

It suddenly occurred to Harry that this was an opportunity for a bit of a cuddle which would go unremarked on - not to mention that it might make it a bit easier to say what he had to say. Fortunately the seat was a poofy cushioned armchair, as all of them were on the bus tonight due to the needs of the moment. 

Hermione settled in Harry’s lap, an arm around his shoulders after he’d sat himself down. Moments later the bus lurched into motion and rumbled off into the darkness. Holding on to Hermione tightly as the Knight Bus hurtled through the countryside, every shudder and tremor seemed much more intense to Harry than it had on previous occasions. Harry let out a little groan of embarrassment when he began to inadvertently respond to the sensations.

“Are you comfortable enough Harry?” asked Hermione with concern as she adjusted herself in his lap, peering at his flustered red features.

“Er... I am if you are,” said Harry in a squeaky voice, his face blazing. Trying her hardest not to giggle and embarrass Harry even further, Hermione leaned in a little. 

“I’m _**very**_ comfy,” Hermione whispered earnestly in Harry’s ear. 

Harry felt the fluttering sensation again and his nervousness began to ebb, though he had a sudden strong urge to kiss Hermione. Instead, he smiled shyly and let out a happy little sigh as he settled in for the ride. After a while, Harry finally felt relaxed enough to tell Hermione what he hadn’t had a chance to yet.

“I’m sorry Hermione!” 

“Whatever for Harry? I told you I was perfectly comfortable.”

“It’s not that...” Harry swallowed, and continued quietly, “I mean about earlier tonight... Ron was right! I was completely mental... I don’t know what I was thinking... running back to the campsite to fight grown-up wizards when I don’t really know how! ...” 

“I... I was just so _**angry**_ at Malfoy - I _**really**_ wanted to hurt him - but all he was doing was flapping his jaw, and... and I knew I couldn’t really attack him just for being a mouthy creep. And when I saw what his father and the other Dark Wizards were doing to those poor people, I... I figured I could go after them - fight them instead...”

“Oh Harry,” Hermione peered at Harry, her eyelashes glistening wetly. “You don’t have to apologise for that...”

“I _**do**_ Hermione,” said Harry forcefully, blinking back his own threatening tears. “I could’ve got you _**killed**_... I should’ve just stayed in the woods with you and Ron. If I lost you - if something happened to you, I... I don’t think I could bear it Hermione - I couldn’t live with myself... not without you...”

Throwing caution to the wind, suddenly not caring that the Knight Bus was jam-packed with passengers - most of whom were dozing anyway as it was nearly 4 am - Hermione crushed her lips against Harry’s. Startled into speechlessness, Harry let it happen and found himself adrift, lost in Hermione’s passion. As her lips parted wetly from his, Harry gasped breathlessly and peered at her with wide bewildered eyes. 

“That’s why I love you Harry,” said Hermione. “Because you’re so brave, and kind, and selfless - you always care more about others, and put yourself at risk to try and do the right thing - to save everyone. Don’t you _**ever**_ apologise for that... ”

“But I was stupid - reckless - I put _**you**_ at risk...” 

“I followed you of my own accord Harry - because I want the same things that you do... _**I**_ want to save people too Harry! We can’t always stop the people we love from being hurt, but as long as we fight _**together**_... that’s all that really matters.”

Harry bit his lip and stopped talking, seeing the determination and fire in Hermione’s eyes. He felt the truth of it burning deep within. He felt torn, as he was more certain than ever that Voldemort was back. Harry never wanted anything bad to happen to Hermione - he never wanted to put her in danger. But he knew that he felt better with her by his side than without her, just as he knew she would always be there for him... even if it meant putting herself in harm’s way. 

It would be so much easier not to love Hermione - not to _**need**_ Hermione - and not to have to worry about getting her killed. But he thought back to the conversation that they had had with Dumbledore after they had killed the Basilisk together; he thought back to the moment in the woods a short while ago when Draco Malfoy had as good as threatened Hermione’s life again. 

Hermione would be no safer if Harry wasn’t with her. Hermione was right; being together was what counted - they were stronger together than apart. 

“Together...” Harry whispered. Unable to fight his urge any longer, he drew Hermione closer and kissed her, his own face wet with tears. 

As they kissed, Hermione could still sense the guilt inside Harry. He may have overcome it for the time being, but she knew that it would always be a struggle for him. But Hermione also knew that no matter what happened, she was never going to let it keep them apart.

**~o0o~**

Clinging tightly to the railing, Ginny carefully climbed up the spiral stairs to the top level of the Knight Bus as it careened wildly along its way. After the stop in Newport, several seats had opened up downstairs and she had gone to see if Harry and Hermione would like to come back down and rejoin the Weasleys.

She spied them at the front of the bus, apparently deep in some intense conversation. The top deck was as jammed as the rest of the bus, but there was an empty seat behind them which must have cleared out in Newport as well. Most of the other passengers were asleep. Ginny gripped the armrests of the chairs as she made her way to the front, but a sudden lurch sent her tumbling into the empty cushioned armchair two seats behind Harry and Hermione. 

They hadn’t spotted her, and when Ginny overheard their conversation, she was very glad that they hadn’t. Ginny had lifted her flaming red head just in time to hear Harry say, “...I could’ve got you _**killed**_...” and then continue on to tell Hermione that he couldn’t bear to live without her.

Ginny blushed as deeply red as her own hair when she witnessed the intensity of their first kiss. She’d never seen them kiss in public before. Ginny slid down in her seat, heart pounding as she hid behind the passenger snoring in front of her when Hermione finished snogging Harry. Ginny’s eyes widened and she did her best to control her breathing when she heard Hermione reassuring Harry, and telling him that was why she loved him - telling him how kind and brave he was.

The pain and anxiety in Harry’s voice when he’d responded, and the conviction in Hermione’s when she told him that fighting together was what really mattered tore at Ginny’s heart. When Harry tearily returned Hermione’s kiss, Ginny found herself crying. Ginny wiped her tears away on her sleeve, glad now that she had finally listened to her mum’s advice, and given up waiting hopefully for Harry to start looking around at other girls. It was obvious that Harry was too attached to Hermione, and she to him. 

Ginny knew that she would always like Harry, but she just wanted him to be happy. And Hermione had never been anything but nice to Ginny. The last thing Ginny wanted to do was spoil their happiness. Ginny smiled to herself through the tears which kept leaking, hoping that one day she could find what Harry and Hermione had together with someone of her own. 

Maybe Neville - he was really sweet and kindhearted; she had really enjoyed hanging out with Neville and Luna at the World Cup. Or Dean - he was funny and bold. Unbidden, a cheery image of Luna’s gleeful face as she giggled at Ginny’s silly teasing remark about Neville being their shared “date” for the World Cup popped into her mind, and she got a little fluttery feeling in her tummy. 

Uncertain what that meant, Ginny put her thoughts aside and decided to leave Harry and Hermione to themselves until the Knight Bus reached Ottery St Catchpole. When Hermione leaned in for a third kiss as Harry’s fingers twirled some of her beautiful tawny ringlets, Ginny took the opportunity to creep back down the aisle the way she had come.

**~o0o~**

The Knight Bus arrived in Ottery St Catchpole as the first pink rays of dawn crept across the sky. Hermione felt someone gently shaking her. She yawned sleepily and blinked, seeing Ginny’s beaming face come into focus. Hermione reddened when she realised that she was still in Harry’s lap with their arms wrapped around each other. As Hermione stirred, Harry roused awake; he groaned when he saw Ginny hovering over them. Crookshanks peeked out from under the poofy armchair.

“It’s alright,” said Ginny, grinning. “All the others are still downstairs. We’re here now...” 

Everyone was exhausted and Harry was feeling very stiff and sore as he and Hermione trudged along the graveled lane to the Burrow in the early morning mist, following the Weasleys as Crookshanks trotted beside them. But as the price of cuddling Hermione for a few hours, Harry wouldn’t have traded that soreness for anything else in the world. 

Mrs Weasley barreled across the yard in her slippers waving a newspaper when she saw them approaching. To Harry’s surprise, she hurtled towards the Twins and flung herself on them sobbing, dropping the newspaper and the note which had been sent to her with Hedwig on the ground.

“Ouch Mum - you’re strangling us,” muttered Fred.

“Oh thank goodness you’re all alive!” wailed Mrs Weasley. “And to think that I shouted at you before you left...”

“They had a row about the Weasleys’ Wizards Wheezes that Fred and George have been making,” whispered Ron with a grin when he saw Harry and Hermione’s puzzled expressions.

Once inside, Mr Weasley wearily plonked himself in a chair and poured himself and his wife a healthy splash of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey into the cups of tea which Harry and Hermione had kindly made for them as he peered at the hot-off-the-presses early-bird edition of the Daily Prophet.

 **“TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP!”** blazed across the top of the front page.

“Of course!” Mr Weasley sighed heavily, sharing a dark look with Mrs Weasley and Bill. “National disgrace - Ministry blunders - lax security - only two culprits apprehended - full investigation called for...” 

“Rumours of bodies recovered...?” groaned Mr Weasley, “Well, that bit’s a load of rubbish! The only ‘bodies’ recovered were the two hooligans that... er... were caught... very much alive...” Mr Weasley’s eyes flickered towards Harry and Hermione uncertainly. He really wasn’t sure if Molly should know about their role...

“How come it doesn’t say anything about Harry and Hermione fighting them and knocking them out?” asked Ron, looking bewildered. Bill and Mr Weasley both winced and palmed their faces.

 **“WHAT?”** bellowed Mrs Weasley, her eyes bulging as she gaped in horror at Harry and Hermione, who both cringed. 

_**“You faced Death Eaters? You poor dears! You could have been killed...”**_ she shrieked, pouncing on Harry and Hermione like a mother tiger on a mission to carry her cubs to safety. 

“We’re fine Mrs Weasley! Really!” squeaked Hermione, seeing Harry’s crestfallen face. 

“Blimey! Members of the Wizengamot are calling for Fudge’s head...” said Bill loudly, distracting his mother from smothering Harry and Hermione.

“And why not?” said Percy superciliously, “Fudge and Madam Bones should have had full Aurors in charge, instead of DMLE Patrol to provide security... and probably Dementors as well. Mr Crouch says Scrimgeour should have been running operations - and according to Mr Crouch, the Senior Undersecretary agrees...”

“Do us a favour Perce, and shut up,” snapped Bill. “There’s good reasons that Crouch and his sort aren’t in charge of the DMLE anymore...”

“Boys, please...” said Mr Weasley. “Percy, we should probably both head to the Ministry and get to work...”

“But Arthur, you're still on holiday...” Mrs Weasley began to protest.

“I’m sorry dear, but this is a huge disaster for the Ministry, and they’ll be needing all hands on deck!” 

“I suppose you’re right,” sighed Mrs Weasley. “Just try not to be late home. None of you have had much sleep!”

Mrs Weasley began making breakfast for everyone, and refused to accept any help from Harry or Hermione, saying that they both needed to rest after their terrible ordeal. Ron was rather pleased, as his mother seemed to think that he and Ginny, and Fred and George should be let off the hook as well. 

While Bill and Charlie helped their mother with breakfast, Ginny went off to have a shower, and Fred and George made their way to their room. Ron was about to help Harry carry his trunk upstairs to Ron’s room, when his mother turned around from the bacon pan after conferring quietly with Bill. 

“Oh, Harry dear,” said Mrs Weasley, “Bill says he’ll share Charlie’s room for the moment while they’re both still on holiday, and that you’re welcome to his old room if you’d rather.”

“Er... really?” gasped Harry.

“Absolutely!” said Bill. “Wait here a moment Ron, I’ll take Harry and his trunk.” 

Ron scratched his head in bewilderment and peered at Hermione questioningly. Hermione simply shrugged, her brows furrowed; she was as much at a loss as Ron was, as she was fairly certain that she herself would be sharing Ginny’s room for the next few days. 

“Well, this is it Harry!” Bill grinned when he and Harry reached his old room. “It’s not much, but when I was chatting with your godfather, Mad Eye, and Dad before we finished packing up to come home, Sirius pulled me aside and asked about the sleeping arrangements at the Burrow...” 

“He told me that you’d been emancipated, and for _**some**_ reason he seemed most insistent that you have your own private room to sleep in, if at all possible...” Bill raised his eyebrows and smirked knowingly.

“Er...” Harry turned pink and rubbed his face, wondering what on earth Sirius had been telling Bill. “Th...thanks Bill!” Harry stammered, feeling an odd mixture of joy and trepidation. “I... er... I really appreciate this loads.”

“Now, I know Mum is well aware of your status as a legal adult, but I’m not certain that it has entirely sunk in... So fair warning Harry, if you have any _late night visitors_ perchance, they should probably still exercise caution - and be aware that Mum is usually up by 6 am!” Bill concluded with a wink.

**~o0o~**

Harry peered at Hermione’s wind up alarm clock, then grinned at Hedwig and Crookshanks who were both perched together on top of Bill’s oak wardrobe as Hermione nestled under his arm sighing contentedly. He couldn’t believe his luck.

It had been a very long, weird day. And despite being worried about the return of Voldemort and Wormtail to Britain, the mayhem at the World Cup in the wee hours of the morning, and the possibility that Cornelius Fudge’s days as Minister might be numbered, Harry didn’t feel half as dreadful as he could have. It was hard to believe that he was actually in the Burrow cuddling and kissing Hermione in perfect privacy. 

After breakfast, Ron had wanted to play a bit of casual quidditch with his brothers and Harry, eager to show Harry the moves that he’d been practicing on his Cleansweep 8 all summer, but Mrs Weasley had thankfully insisted that everyone take naps first. 

Harry had felt much better after a few more hours sleep, and following lunch he’d filled Ron in about his scar hurting again and his nightmare with a bit of help from Hermione. Then Harry had spent the rest of the afternoon flying around with Ron, and Fred and George, and Bill and Charlie. Showing off on his broom, Ron had been as happy as Harry had ever seen him, which Harry had found very pleasing. And after dinner, Harry had spent some time playing games with Ron, Ginny, and Hermione, before getting ready for bed. 

Then just a short while ago, Hermione had cautiously crept into his room, quietly giggling about Ginny’s participation in a conspiracy of silence with Bill. They had shared a few kisses, and now Harry lay there, simply enjoying the warmth of Hermione’s embrace, her minty aroma, and the rhythm of her gentle breathing as she snuggled beside him, curled under his arm.

As Harry began to drift, he felt an exhilarating rush of wind. He was soaring again under the stars on his Firebolt with an enchanting luminous beauty clasping her bare arms around him. This time there were no spectators and no snitch, the only thing golden being Hermione’s billowing hair and sparkling eyes, which always seemed to shine so in moments such as this.


	17. Moody Blues: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of Dec 2, 2016, the more explicit version of this chapter is now available in _Moments in Love: The Steamy Version_ (chapter 6).

Ron scowled, wondering if it was his imagination, or was Hermione hanging all over Harry even more than she ever had before? Hermione seemed to be sitting even closer to Harry at mealtimes, if possible. And they seemed to have their arms around one another more often than he could recall, even when she wasn’t crying about something.

Ron had always thought that she was just one of those sorts of girls who was huggy-kissy - _**ick**_ \- and it had simply been another annoying Hermione Granger thing to him - like her bossy know-it-allness. Ron had been infuriated when she’d been all over Harry at Christmas. Harry was supposed to be _**his**_ best friend, not Hermione’s. 

It had been more than apparent that they’d grown even closer since the summer following the end of Second Year. They always seemed to take each other’s sides in arguments against Ron - though admittedly, Scabbers had ended up being a creepy murderous wizard and the “Grim” had been Harry’s godfather. But there was something else which was aggravating about it now which Ron couldn’t quite put his finger on. The way Harry’s arm had been around Hermione’s slender waist at the World Cup when she was wearing that clingy dress - Draco Malfoy’s taunts in the woods.

Ridiculous! As if Ron would actually like a bossy know-it-all with bushy hair and big front teeth. It’s not like she was a Veela.

Though, he had to admit, Hermione’s cleverness had come in handy - when she had deigned to climb off her high horse to help him catch up in time for final exams in the classes which they shared before the end of Third Year. Harry had offered to help Ron with his homework as he usually did, but Hermione had insisted that Harry had enough to be getting on with and that she would have more time to spare to help Ron as she was much faster at reading and writing.

And somehow, Hermione had always seemed easier to talk to than other girls - when she wasn’t being such a bloody annoying bossy know-it-all! And then that dress - Hermione had looked completely different... 

Bloody Hell! What was wrong with him? Had Malfoy been right? All that Ron was sure of, was that he _**wasn’t**_ sure what annoyed him more now: the fact that Harry seemed to like Hermione more than he liked Ron, or the fact that Hermione seemed to like Harry more than she liked Ron. 

And even worse, Ron wasn’t even sure why, except that he felt sort of hungry every time he thought of Hermione in that dress... and angry when he thought of Harry’s arm being around her waist.

**~o0o~**

Harry heaved his and Hermione’s trunks onto the luggage rack in their compartment on the Hogwarts Express, oblivious to the expression on Ron’s face. The rainy weather seemed somehow fitting to Harry’s gloomy mood. He had a strange sense of foreboding which he supposed was due in part to the fact that Amos Diggory’s head had popped up in the Weasleys’ fireplace that morning.

Mr Diggory was Cedric Diggory’s father, and a Ministry employee who worked for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And Harry had taken a dislike to the man when he had sensed that Mr Diggory harboured some sort of ill-will towards him, and when Mr Diggory had treated Winky the House-Elf so poorly. But that wasn’t what had stirred Harry’s ominous feelings. 

Harry was concerned about Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody - the ex-Auror whom Harry and Hermione had both met at the World Cup; he had a very strong suspicion that Mad Eye would be taking the open Defence Against the Dark Arts position this year at Hogwarts. Mr Diggory had brought a message early that morning for Mr Weasley that the ex-Auror had got in a spot of trouble with the Ministry which only Mr Weasley could sort out. According to Mr Diggory, Mad Eye Moody had attracted the attention of muggle police when he’d caused a commotion over some sort of false alarm regarding a non-existent intruder at his house.

“I dunno Hermione...” Harry had muttered after Mr Diggory’s head had departed the Weasleys’ fireplace with a piece of toast in his mouth. “Mr Diggory thinks Moody was just being paranoid, but I don’t think I believe that. Doesn’t it seem a bit coincidental t’you that this would happen just after the Death Eater attack at the World Cup and just before Moody’s due to leave for Hogwarts? What if...”

“...someone really _**did**_ try to attack him?” Hermione had continued, her eyes widening as her breath had caught. “I think you’re right Harry - If Mr Moody’s a friend of Dumbledore’s, and fought with him against Voldemort the last time, then the Headmaster very likely hired him to take the Defence of Dark Arts position this year to help keep an eye on you because...”

“...he believes that my dream is real - that Voldemort’s back and plotting again to kill me. Yeah, exactly!” Harry had gone on with a nod. “Maybe Voldemort found out about Moody somehow and sent someone to try and stop him from going to Hogwarts.”

“Harry... what if it’s something _**worse**_ than that?” Hermione had gasped, a horrible thought suddenly occurring to her.

“What d’you mean Hermione? What could be worse than trying to kill Moody?” 

“Harry, what if Voldemort tried to Imperius Mr Moody to kill _**you**_ at Hogwarts?”

“Blimey Hermione! You’re right...” Harry had frowned thoughtfully for a moment. “But somehow I think Mr Moody would be hard to Imperius. If that book on curses we found in Number Twelve’s library is right, strong-willed people have a chance of throwing off the Imperius Curse. And Mad Eye seemed like a pretty tough-minded bloke. Maybe...” 

Another horrible thought had niggled at the back of Harry’s mind, and Hermione had given voice to it.

“...Maybe Voldemort sent someone to _**replace**_ him Harry ...” Hermione had gasped, “...with _**polyjuice**_ potion. Oh Harry, we’ve _**got**_ to have Dumbledore check Mr Moody thoroughly when we get to school - before he can do anything to hurt you!” 

As his thoughts returned to the present, Harry took Crookshanks’ basket from Hermione and stowed it next to Hedwig’s cage and Hermione’s trunk on the luggage rack above their seats, he caught an odd expression on Ron’s face which put thoughts about Mr Moody out of his mind temporarily. Harry wondered if Ron was still upset about the second hand dress robes which his mother had bought for him in Diagon Alley.

Harry thought it was a crying shame how quickly Ron’s good mood had evaporated. Ron had seemed very happy the last few days of the summer holidays - showing off the quidditch moves that he’d been practicing from the book which Harry had given him as a Christmas Present, on the broom which Sirius had given him to make up for breaking his leg. Ron was very intent on making the Gryffindor quidditch team this year.

Ron had even bitten his tongue and stayed out of the furious argument that Hermione had had with Percy Weasley about Winky when Percy had insisted that a high ranking Ministry Official like Mr Crouch deserved _“unswerving obedience from his servants.”_ Hermione’s enraged retort that Winky was a _**slave**_ , not a servant, had been cut off when Mrs Weasley had brought Ron his “new” dress robes to pack yesterday. 

The row between Ron and his mum had been epic when he’d seen the vintage maroon robes with lacy frills at the collar and cuffs. Hermione had hidden behind _The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 4_ \- the 4th Year Charms book from which Harry and Hermione had both learned the Summoning Charm at the beginning of Third Year - trembling when Ron had thundered up to his room and slammed his door, bellowing about how everything he owned was rubbish. 

The whistle blew and the Hogwarts Express lurched into motion with a hiss of steam as its wheels screeched, distracting Harry briefly from ruminating on Ron’s moodiness. Harry caught Hermione in his arms when she staggered, and they both quickly sat down. The heavy rain pelted at the windows as the train departed from King’s Cross. 

Harry glanced at Ron again and considered telling him what he and Hermione had surmised about Moody before leaving the Weasleys’ house earlier that morning, when they were rudely interrupted and heckled by Draco Malfoy and his thuggish cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. He was getting used to this little ritual exchange with Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express at the beginning of every school-year.

Ron’s mood went from bad to worse after Malfoy tormented Ron about the maroon dress robes - which Ron had thrown over his owl’s cage to shut Pigwidgeon up. And it didn’t end there. Malfoy seemed to have some inside knowledge regarding the upcoming event at Hogwarts precipitating the necessity for dress robes.

“...So what about it Weasel-boy? You planning on entering then? It’s your chance to show Potter up and get the girl... there’s gold involved too you know?”

“What are you on about Malfoy?” snapped Ron, his face reddening.

“What? You don’t know? Your father and brother work at the Ministry and you don’t even _**know?**_ I suppose they’re too low level...” Malfoy chortled gleefully. “They’re probably not important enough to be told that sort of thing...” he continued as Crabbe and Goyle sniggered sycophantically.

“Clear off Malfoy...” Harry growled warningly, unwilling to admit that he didn’t know something that Malfoy did. Unfortunately, Malfoy seemed to know exactly which card to play to really get Ron’s goat and he barreled on, talking loudly over Harry.

“I expect _**Potter**_ will enter though - he never misses a chance to show-off! I’m surprised Potter didn’t tell _**you**_ though, Weasleby - considering that he’s such good chums with the Minister after all....” 

“...Though I suppose Scarhead’s worked out what a worthless peasant you are and decided he’d rather hog all the glory to himself!” Malfoy concluded, smirking malevolently as he beckoned Crabbe and Goyle to depart.

“Bloody git!” fumed Ron, his face purple with rage. “I wish he really had been sent to Durmstrang.” Ron slammed the compartment door so hard that all the glass shattered, and he shot Harry a dark look.

“Reparo,” muttered Hermione. 

Harry was taken aback and speechless, momentarily uncertain who Ron’s look of fury was directed at. Hermione must have had an inkling though, because she jumped in as soon as the shards of glass had become whole windowpanes and returned to their proper places.

“Ron,” she said quickly, her voice full of concern, “You _**know**_ Malfoy was full of rubbish don’t you? _**Obviously**_ some sort of event must be happening at Hogwarts this year, but Harry doesn’t know any more about it than you do.”

“Er... yeah... sure,” said Ron uncertainly, not meeting Hermione’s eyes. “Yeah... I mean you would’ve told me... right Harry?”

“Of _**course**_ I would’ve Ron!” said Harry. “Malfoy’s just a liar!”

Harry was extremely relieved when Ginny and Luna found their compartment and joined them. When the witch with the lunch trolley showed up, Harry purchased a pile of meat pasties and cauldron cakes, and drinks for everyone, hoping some food would cheer Ron up. Ron did lighten up somewhat, but his moodiness seemed very persistent. 

When Seamus, Dean, and Neville ambled by after lunch had been demolished, and poked their heads in to say hello, Ron followed them back to their compartment. Luna and Ginny glanced at Harry and Hermione, then peered at each other knowingly.

“Thanks for lunch Harry,” beamed Luna. “It was lovely.”

“Yeah... thanks Harry,” said Ginny, smiling. “We’ll see you both later Hermione. You may as well make the best of the peace and quiet the rest of the day,” she finished pointedly. 

Hermione pursed her lips into a funny little half-smile; Harry turned slightly pink and grinned. As soon as Ginny and Luna had gone, Hermione drew the curtains across the windows to the narrow corridor and locked the door.

“Just for now,” said Hermione as she snuggled under Harry’s arm. 

“No arguments here,” Harry let out a huge sigh of relief as the residual tension drained away, leaning in to meet Hermione’s lips with his own as he gently stroked Hermione’s cheek. 

They spent the rest of the afternoon cuddling, occasionally sharing humid kisses, and eventually dozed off peacefully in each other’s arms, feeling safe in the knowledge that Hermione’s windup alarm clock was set to wake them an hour before they reached Hogwarts. Crookshanks purred on their laps and Hedwig hooted softly as the rain grew heavier and the train trundled ever northward.

Ron left it until the very last minute to return to their compartment as the Hogwarts Express rounded the last bend. He seemed to be in a much better mood. For his part, Harry was feeling much happier as well, though he was still anxious about what would happen when Mr Moody reached Hogwarts.

**~o0o~**

After the Sorting, everyone dug into the feast. Harry kept peering up at the Staff Table at the empty seat which was surely Mr Moody’s, barely touching his dinner.

“WazzamatterHarry?” mumbled Ron cheerily through a huge mouthful of steak and kidney pie and mashed potato as Parvati and Lavender eyed him with horror. 

“Er...” Harry wasn’t sure exactly what to say, as he still hadn’t had a chance to reveal his and Hermione’s suspicions to Ron, then he decided to just make a bit of a joke out of it. “...Just hoping the new Defence teacher isn’t another one of Vol... er... You-Know-Who’s minions out to kill me this year.”

Ron nearly snorted his mashed potato out of his nose in laughter. Hermione picked at her own food for a bit, before turning to Harry looking troubled. But Hermione’s lack of appetite appeared to be due to a different reason altogether.

“Harry, Sirius said that that he’d sent his house-elf Kreacher to Hogwarts, and Winky said that Dobby works here too. Do you think that house elves made all of this food?”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t really thought about it before. But the idea that his dinner had been made by slaves began to make the few bits of roast beef and mashed potatoes - which he’d only just managed to get down - churn in his stomach.

“Er... I don’t know Hermione... I... I suppose perhaps they do though!”

“They do indeed,” proffered Nearly Headless Nick, who had been eavesdropping silently behind them and peering longingly at the feast. “Hogwarts has well over a hundred house-elves you know.”

“But... but Dumbledore _pays_ them right?” said Hermione, “Like Dobby? And surely they get sick leave and pensions and... and paid holidays?”

Nick chortled at the hilarious notion of house-elves getting holidays.

“Of course not! And they’d be very offended if anyone offered,” the ghost responded, guffawing with great amusement.

Ron began to snigger loudly, accidentally spraying Harry with bits of Yorkshire Pudding. Hermione’s face turned livid, and Ron quieted to a grin. But Fred chuckled, and spoke up.

“They _**like**_ it Hermione...”

“...they live to serve...” continued George.

“You _**KNEW?**_ ” gasped Hermione, quivering in outrage.

Fred and George looked at each other uncomfortably, realising suddenly that they had just stepped into a mine-field, not to mention that they were on the verge of inadvertently exposing one of the secrets of their successful parties.

“Well... yeah! But...” Fred started to say before quickly shutting up again.

Harry could see steam beginning to come out of Hermione’s ears, and he put his hand on hers.

“Hermione, why don’t we look into it later. I’m not very hungry anymore either, but let’s not spoil everyone else’s dinner, alright.”

“Maybe it _**should**_ be spoiled...” she muttered angrily, glaring at all of the Weasley brothers, _**“slave labour.”**_

Neither she nor Harry ate another bite. Ron tried to tempt them both with the delicious looking desserts, chortling wickedly, but gave up trying when Harry glowered at him.

“Give it a rest Ron...” Harry growled when Ron waved a delicious smelling apple crumble under his nose.

“Suit yourself then, more for me,” Ron smirked.

After the feast, everything else was put out of their minds. Dumbledore had made his usual speech, but this year he had a bit more to add. Ron’s face fell when the Headmaster announced that the school’s Quidditch season had been canceled.

“But I’ve been practicing all summer to get on the team,” Ron moaned angrily. 

Fred and George looked equally appalled. Harry peered at Hermione and raised his eyebrows, knowing that this must have something to do with whatever Malfoy had been on about. But the furious murmurs filling the Great Hall morphed into noisy excitement and cheers when Dumbledore pronounced that the Triwizard tournament would be occurring this year for the first time since 1792, having been reinstated by the Ministry’s departments of International Magical Cooperation, and Magical Games and Sports. 

_“D...d...death toll?”_ Hermione sputtered when Dumbledore got around to explaining why it had been canceled centuries ago, glancing at Harry with alarm and squeezing his hand under the table. 

Harry grimaced and rubbed his forehead. Most of Hogwarts seemed unfazed though, and Fred and George were positively thrilled... until Dumbledore proclaimed that the rules had been changed to prevent students under 17 from participating. 

“Still, I reckon we could work out how to get past whoever the impartial judge is,” said Fred.

“Perhaps a couple drops of Aging Potion?” George proposed.

“Yeah... that’d be brilliant,” Ron murmured, a distant look in his eyes. “A thousand galleons...”

Ron’s daydream was interrupted by a flash of lightning from the enchanted ceiling and a loud of peal of thunder. The buzz of excitement faded into gasps of shock and surprise at the intimidating and thoroughly drenched figure who had just limped into the Great Hall with heavy thumping footsteps. 

Harry’s heart began to thud a bit harder and faster, and Hermione clutched his hand a bit tighter. Harry swallowed nervously, but took some comfort in the fact that Dumbledore had promised to check Alastor Moody thoroughly for Imperius Curses and Polyjuice Potion. 

Several girls and First Years squeaked with fright as the carved out features of the ex-Auror’s heavily scarred face stood out clearly in stark relief with every flicker of lightning. Moody lurched and clomped his way to the Staff-Table, dripping all over the marble floor. Harry frowned when Dumbledore introduced him to the school as if nothing were amiss.

“I expect Dumbledore doesn’t want to tip him off just yet, until the students are safely out of the way, and until he’s sure that there’s no way Moody can escape - just in case, Harry,” Hermione whispered.

“Oh, yeah... I suppose that makes sense,” murmured Harry.

Harry couldn’t think of anything else all the way back to the Gryffindor Common Room. Everyone was talking about the Triwizard tournament, but Harry didn’t hear a word that anyone else but Hermione said. She hugged him as long as she felt safe to in the Common Room without raising anyone’s eyebrows before saying goodnight.

The aching emptiness in Harry’s gut as he changed into his pyjamas and clambered into bed had nothing to do with lack of food, and everything to do with the lack of his Hermione to cuddle. Harry rubbed at his twinging scar again, steeling himself for a wretched night of tossing and turning.

“Earth to Harry...”

“Oh... er... Sorry Ron! What were you saying?”

“A Thousand Galleons Harry!” said Ron, yawning sleepily, “I think I might enter - if Fred and George work out how to do it... You’re going to give it a go, aren’t you?”

“Er... honestly Ron, I’m really not that interested in competing...”

“Yeah...right!” Ron sniggered, “Sure you’re not...”

“No, really,” Harry muttered. “I don’t know enough spells for one thing. I don’t need the money, and I’ve already got more fame than I care for. I’d just like a nice peaceful year at school for once...”

“Whatever you say Harry...”

**~o0o~**

Harry felt as dismal and grey as the clouds floating across the Enchanted Ceiling of the Great Hall the following morning. Hermione peered at him sympathetically as they dug into breakfast.

“Did you have nightmares again Harry?” she asked quietly. Harry reluctantly nodded, hating to seem needy and pathetic. 

“Moody’s not up at the Staff Table though,” said Harry pensively. “I wonder if that means anything...”

“I see you’re both eating again,” said Ron with a grin. “Is the Hunger Strike for House Elves over then?”

Hermione gave Ron a withering glare and Harry rolled his eyes, but neither one of them was in the mood to take the bait. At the end of breakfast, Ron departed with Seamus, Dean, and Neville for Divination. Harry and Hermione both got up, ready to leave for Arithmancy when Professor McGonagall approached them, bearing a grave countenance.

“Potter, Granger, the Headmaster would like a word with you both in his office,” McGonagall’s features softened slightly. “I have already informed Professor Vector that you shan’t be in class today. Not to worry though... she assured me that she would not be assigning any homework today.”

“Oh no!” said Hermione, sounding disappointed.

“What’s this about Professor? Does this have anything t’do with...?” began Harry.

“Not here Mr Potter!” McGonagall interjected. “It’s best that Dumbledore explains everything in private. Though... I suppose it would be remiss of me not to say at least how very proud and grateful I am to have you both as my students. Now run along... don’t keep the Headmaster waiting.”

It was with utmost trepidation and anticipation that Harry and Hermione made their way through the castle to Dumbledore’s office. 

“Cockroach Cluster,” said Harry to the gargoyle statue guarding the Headmaster’s office. 

The gargoyle leapt aside; Harry and Hermione stepped onto the foot of the stone spiral staircase which carried them up like an escalator to the entrance of the office. His heart pounding in his ears now, Harry took the brass door knocker in his hand and knocked three times on the glossy oak door. Harry and Hermione both gasped in shock when it opened to reveal two unexpected visitors already in Dumbledore’s office.

“Ah... welcome Harry, Miss Granger! Please, do not be alarmed,” said Dumbledore calmly. “This is the _**real**_ Alastor Moody... and you are both well acquainted with Cornelius Fudge of course.”

“Hello Harry, Miss Granger!” Fudge smiled wanly at them both; he had the air of defeat about him. 

“Potter, Granger... Good to see you both again!” growled Moody, who looked more than a bit exhausted and out of sorts. “Can’t thank you two enough, really!”

Dumbledore conjured two poofy chintz armchairs for Harry and Hermione, and they both took a seat next to each other. Hermione reached out and took Harry’s hand, biting her lip.

“Well, perhaps the good news first,” began the Headmaster, his eyes twinkling. “Though it is no doubt quite apparent as Alastor is now with us, and none the worse for wear...”

“Except for a bit o’ wounded pride perhaps,” the scarred ex-Auror grumbled.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore continued, looking slightly abashed himself. “And it is all thanks to Harry’s apparent prescience and the ingenuity of you both. Last night, based upon your cogent analysis of the situation, after the feast professors Flitwick, McGonagall, Snape, and myself confronted the imposter - for indeed he was polyjuiced - and apprehended him with little struggle, having caught him unawares. Alastor was released from confinement in the bottom of his own trunk...”

“Who was the imposter?” Harry interjected, unable to help himself.

“Ah... There is quite a tale to tell regarding the identity of the imposter, but to begin with, I must say that I find myself humbled by you both. I daresay that the imposter may have gone on for quite some time before discovery, as I had not considered the possibility that Voldemort could have learned of Alastor’s appointment here at Hogwarts and sent an agent to capture and impersonate him.”

“And as it turns out - as unthinkable as it was - the imposter was none other than Bartemius Crouch’s son - Barty Crouch Junior...”

“You’re _**joking!**_ ” gasped Harry. 

“The son of the head of International Magical Cooperation?” squeaked Hermione.

“The very same - yes!” Dumbledore nodded. “And believe me, his story is even more remarkable than you can imagine - as it was believed by all that he had died in Azkaban. And as incredible as his own personal tale is - given the elder Crouch’s history - the story of how Barty Crouch Junior came to be discovered in the home of his father and recruited by Voldemort is even more convoluted - and his plan to kidnap you stretches the very boundaries of credulity...”

**~o0o~**

Having been given the rest of the first day back at Hogwarts to themselves, relieved of their classes by Dumbledore, Harry and Hermione found themselves sitting on boulders by the edge of the Black Lake, still processing the shocking information revealed in the Headmaster’s office as fat raindrops began to fall again.

“I know I should be happy Hermione, but it’s a bloody shame that Crouch Jr couldn’t reveal where Voldemort and Wormtail are hiding right now,” said Harry bitterly as he picked up a pebble and threw it in the lake with a plunk, not caring as the rain began to splatter his glasses and pepper his robes with wet spots. “...I suppose Voldemort must’ve obliviated him - or maybe used some sort of secret-keeping spell - to keep his location secret until it was the right time for Crouch Jr to kidnap me to minimise the risk of being caught.” 

“I still can’t believe that the Wizengamot passed a motion of no-confidence and sacked the Minister this morning,” Hermione fumed. “What happened at the World Cup wasn’t his fault at all! And there’s absolutely _**nothing**_ in the _Daily Prophet_ this morning about Crouch Jr’s capture. It’s almost like the _**new**_ Minister is trying to cover things up... but _**why?**_ ”

Harry picked up a bigger rock and hurled it into the water with a splash.

“I dunno Hermione - maybe Minister Umbridge is trying to protect Crouch Senior?”

“Perhaps so...” Hermione nodded, brushing a wet lock of hair from her face. “That almost makes sense. I remember Percy saying that Crouch Senior and Minister Umbridge - when she was still the Senior Undersecretary - saw eye to eye regarding Cornelius Fudge being incompetent... but still, there’s something missing...”

“Yeah - tell me about it!” Harry muttered darkly, rubbing at his painful scar. “Dumbledore and Moody don’t seem to like her very much... maybe she’s got connections to Voldemort somehow, but they can’t prove it. All I’m sure of Hermione, is that things aren’t over yet...” 

“Voldemort’s going to try something else to get to me which will put everyone in danger. I just know it - we need to learn some _**proper**_ fighting spells. I don’t want to just rely on Moody to protect us - he can’t be around both of us 24/7.”

“I... I agree Harry. I think we should be able to find some good spells in the Fifth and Sixth Year Charms books...” 

Hermione sneezed. Harry turned around and saw her shivering, rivulets of water running down her cheeks and dripping from her sopping hair. He suddenly realised that he was as wet as she was, and that it was pouring again, but she hadn’t said a word. Harry swallowed guiltily. He felt extremely agitated, and had no desire to be inside the castle around hundreds of other students, but he knew it would do neither of them any good to catch their death of colds.

“Er... Sorry Hermione! I suppose we’d better get back and...” 

But before Harry could say another word of apology, Hermione wrapped herself around him, kissing him deeply as the rain grew heavier. She slipped her arms inside his robes and pressed herself against him as tightly as possible. Harry felt a surge of heat fill him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. 

The limbs of the willows and birches began swaying as the wind picked up, and curtains of rain were sweeping across the surface of lake by the time they both fell apart gasping for breath, but neither of them felt the cold and damp as they trudged up the muddy hillside back to the castle with grins on their dripping faces. 

Everyone was still in classes when they got back, as it wasn’t even lunchtime yet, and they hung up their robes to dry by the fire in the Common Room before heading off to their respective dormitories. Back in her own dorm, Hermione breathlessly stripped off her wet things and found clean, dry clothes in her trunk as Crookshanks purred at her. Hermione bit her lip as she peered at her fresh uniform, considering her options. 

She had kissed Harry outside in the rain as passionately as she could, knowing that it would distract him from his darkening mood. Hermione had felt her success as she pressed up against him in the downpour, stirring herself in the process. Decision made and still unclothed, Hermione yanked her crimson curtains all the way around her four-poster bed, her heart racing. Sensing his human’s need for a moment of privacy, Crookshanks jumped off her bed and curled up by the fireplace instead.

Harry smiled wryly and turned a bit pink when Hermione finally came back downstairs to the Gryffindor Common Room looking relaxed. Hermione grinned and blushed to see Harry appearing much calmer himself, sitting there in clean dry clothes; she snuggled up beside him on the sofa nearest to the crackling fire in the hearth. Harry put his arm around Hermione and kissed her forehead.

“Thanks Hermione... I feel loads better now. So what say we head to the library and start looking up fighting spells... and the history of house-elf slavery?”

“That’s an excellent idea... but I think that can wait till after lunch Harry,” Hermione said softly, fluttering her eyelashes as she leaned in for a proper kiss.

**~o0o~**

Harry and Hermione gave up looking for information on house-elf slavery after a while, unable to find anything about it in any of the history books - not even a single word in _Hogwarts, a History_. They spent the rest of the afternoon reading up on stunning and shielding charms, as well as a variety of concussive and incendiary explosive spells.

“Where’ve _**you**_ two been all day?” groused Ron, eyeing Harry and Hermione suspiciously when he found them both in the common room studying after classes. “I didn’t see you in Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures...”

Harry grinned at Ron and began to quietly fill him in about Professor Moody with Hermione’s help. It was nearly dinnertime by the time they finished telling Ron everything.

“Blimey! No wonder Dumbledore gave you the day off! ...” Ron gaped at Harry. “Another bloody nutter trying to kill you...”

“Yeah... anyway we both skipped lunch, so I’m famished now,” said Harry.

“That miserable old bat Trelawney gave us a load of extra homework too,” Ron griped moodily as they queued in the entrance hall behind the horde of students heading for dinner. 

“Maybe you should lay off the Uranus jokes when Trelawney does Astrology,” Neville muttered, frowning at Ron. 

Sure enough, Harry spotted Lavender Brown in the crowd shooting Ron dirty looks again. Parvati turned around to see what Lavender was looking at and rolled her eyes. Harry heard someone shouting behind him.

“Potter, hey Potter!”

Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Ron turned to see Malfoy chortling gleefully as Crabbe and Goyle stood beside him sniggering. Malfoy held up the _Daily Prophet_ for all to see the headline.

**FUDGE SACKED  
SENIOR UNDERSECRETARY SWORN IN AS NEW MINISTER**

“How does it feel to be friends with a _**loser**_ Potter?” sneered Malfoy. “Of course MY father is good friends with the _**NEW**_ Minister. I told you that changes were coming...”

Harry peered at the black and white picture of the squat, toad-like woman on the front of the wizarding newspaper and shook his head. Draco Malfoy was slightly taken aback to see a smirk creeping to Harry’s lips.

“Is that the best your daddy can do Malfoy? He must be really getting desperate since your mummy stopped putting out for him!”

Harry felt a surge of satisfaction as Malfoy’s pallid features flushed angrily.

“I warned you to watch your mouth Potter. How _**dare**_ you insult my family?” snarled Malfoy.

“Hark who’s talking. Maybe you should keep your own big fat mouth shut then!” said Harry, turning his back towards Malfoy. 

A white-hot spell sizzled, singing Harry’s cheek as it barely missed him and exploded a bust near the entrance of the Great Hall, scattering shrieking students as burning shards rained down upon them. Harry whirled around, reaching for his wand. But before he could retaliate, Malfoy shriveled up and turned into a lizard. 

Crabbe and Goyle turned and ran for it when they saw the mangled wizard with the large spinning blue eye bearing down on them.

“That’s quite enough outta you, sonny boy!” Moody growled as he scooped up the lizard with his bare hand. 

_**“Professor Moody!”**_ gasped McGonagall as she fought her way through the crowd of frightened pupils. “Is that a student?”

“Too right you are,” said Moody. “Looked like Malfoy’s boy...”

“We _**never**_ use transfigurations as punishments,” Professor McGonagall began, “Point losses and detentions....”

“...Are bloody useless for teachin’ cowards a lesson!” Moody snapped. “That could be Potter or some other student lyin’ in pieces on the floor instead of a statue.”

Professor McGonagall paled when she saw the damage and glanced around at the faces of the students, many of whom looked terrified. 

“Point taken!” she muttered, her nostrils flaring as her eyes narrowed at the lizard in Moody’s clutches.

**~o0o~**

The next few days passed with much less stress for Harry and Hermione, but Malfoy shot Harry venomous looks all through Potions. Not only had Malfoy been sentenced to sit detention disemboweling a barrel full of horned toads by hand, he had also been suspended from broom flying privileges for the rest of the term, and he had been restricted to wand usage in classes only.

Harry found that Arithmancy was becoming slightly less of a struggle, finally having achieved barely passing marks on all of his homework now; though it was clear to him that he’d still be lucky to get even one Exceeds Expectations on a piece of homework or a test. And Harry was very pleased that he continued to excel in Ancient Runes. Hermione had beamed at him proudly when his parchment on warding against dangerous magical creatures had earned him the highest marks in class once again. 

“Of course, I couldn’t have done it without the best translator in class by my side,” said Harry, grinning at his girlfriend. 

Care of Magical Creatures was a bit less enjoyable than he’d hoped though. Hagrid had some rather ugly looking little creatures which looked like a cross between a crab and a scorpion without shells. Apparently they were just hatchlings, but that didn’t stop them from being rather painful to work with.

The males had stingers, and the females had prickly suckers, and they would occasionally blast off, emitting hot sparks - hence their name: Blast Ended Skrewts. But the lesson wasn’t entirely bad. Several females managed to latch themselves onto Malfoy’s face and he had to be sent up to the hospital wing after Hagrid removed them.

Most of the class, even Malfoy’s fellow Slytherins, had a good laugh when they saw Draco’s face emblazoned with blistering hickeys. Hermione couldn’t help smirking either. The creatures were too small to have done any real harm - and she felt that he quite deserved it for trying to attack Harry the other day. 

Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Moody on Thursday proved to be intense and disturbing. Moody demonstrated the three “Unforgivable Curses” in class. Harry and Hermione felt well prepared, having read up about them already in the book about curses which they had discovered in Number Twelve’s library. But seeing the spells performed on a hapless spider was another thing altogether. 

Many people giggled when the spider was forced to do tricks under the Imperius Curse, until Moody made it nearly drown itself. Hermione grew more anxious with each demonstration. The horrified expression on Neville’s face when the Cruciatus Curse had been demonstrated was gut-wrenching enough, but seeing Harry stare almost blankly when Moody had killed the spider with the Avada Kedavra Curse was even worse somehow. 

There was barely any indication that Harry felt anything at all until Moody had pointed out that Harry was the only person known to have survived the Killing Curse. Harry’s nostrils flared, and he turned slightly pink. Tears sprang to Hermione’s eyes, sure that Harry must be thinking about his parents, and she had to bite her lip hard to keep herself from losing it completely. 

“That was a bloody brilliant lesson!” said Ron, grinning as he followed Harry and Hermione to the Great Hall after class, “He really knows his stuff, Moody does! The way that spider snuffed it when Moody did the Avada Kedavra...”

Hermione spun around furiously and nearly launched herself at Ron. Harry clutched her around the waist, afraid that she might actually hit Ron.

 **“What is _WRONG_ with you?”** she shouted at Ron, hot tears scalding her cheeks.

“It’s alright Hermione...” Harry muttered, his own face reddening as other students turned around to see what was going on. “Ron didn’t mean anything by it.”

Ron gulped, looking half-ashamed and half-angry at Hermione’s sudden outburst. His eyes darted to Harry’s arm around her waist, then he shrugged and stalked away in the opposite direction. 

“He’s such an insensitive prat!” Hermione sobbed as Harry led her into an empty classroom. He held Hermione and stroked her hair as she let it all out. 

“I’m s...sorry Harry! I _**try ******_to be nice to him because he’s your friend, I do! B...but I just c...can’t _ **stand**_ Ron sometimes! He’s alright too... sometimes... I suppose. I thought things were better again between us all after he got an owl and a new broom. And I know he just says things without thinking, but he’s just been so obnoxious about _**everything**_ lately...”

“Don’t apologise Hermione,” sighed Harry, giving her a gentle kiss. “Ron _**is**_ a bit thick! There’s an alright bloke in there somewhere though - he’ll grow up sometime...” Harry trailed off, wondering if it was true, uncertain of his own breaking point. 

As the weeks wore on, Ron seemed in a reasonably good mood, and appeared to have forgotten all about Hermione shouting at him. Though truth be told, as Harry and Hermione had been so busy studying to keep up with their classes, he had been hanging out with Seamus and Dean more again. And even when they weren’t studying, Harry and Hermione always seemed busy with other things which either seemed too much like homework, or which Ron thought were completely ridiculous. 

They had found little information in the library about house-elves beyond the fact that house-elf slavery went back centuries, but they discovered one sunny Friday afternoon that Luna’s father was apparently a treasure trove of information on the subject.

“Not many people know that wizards enslaved house-elves after a horrible war,” Luna proffered as they strolled along the shore of the lake. “It’s not in most history books. I only know because Daddy did a lot of research for an article about the cruelty of wizards towards other magical creatures once.”

Hermione’s ears perked up. “Luna, can I contact your father? I want to find out more about it and do something. It’s not fair how house-elves are treated.”

“Absolutely Hermione!” Luna said, her silvery-grey eyes growing bigger, thrilled to be asked. “Maybe we should start an organisation to help them...”

“Harry and I’ve already been thinking about that,” Hermione interjected excitedly. “We can call it the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare...”

Harry chortled and shook his head. “Hermione, that would be a terrible acronym: S.P.E.W. I think we should try and work on that...”

Hermione frowned pensively for a moment as Luna giggled.

“You’re right Harry,” said Hermione, turning a bit pink and giggling herself. “That wouldn’t really be very conducive to eliciting sympathy for house-elves would it!?” 

“Anyway, we should probably talk to Dobby first,” Harry added. “If other house-elves are more like Winky, we’ll have to rethink how to go about this...”

Harry waited until Luna went off to send a letter to her father, asking for some of his archived articles about house-elves, then he pulled a small package wrapped in sparkling gold paper out of his robes and handed it to Hermione.

“Happy Birthday Hermione!” 

Delighted that Harry had remembered her fifteenth birthday, Hermione carefully unwrapped the parcel; she unclasped the emerald velvet covered box inside and gasped at the elegant pearl necklace within. Hermione had never been one for wearing jewellery, as it hadn’t been something that her parents had ever indulged in. Jewellery had never before caught her fascination beyond the intellectual aspects of how precious gems and such were formed. But this was different.

Hermione’s heart began to race; her whole body tingled. This was the first piece of jewellery ever given to her by someone she loved, and the opalescent sheen of the white pearls gleaming in the afternoon sun caught her eye.

“Oh Harry... it’s _**gorgeous!**_ ” said Hermione, as she fluttered her glistening eyelashes and bit her lip to stop herself from crying. 

Harry let out a huge sigh of relief. He’d never seen Hermione wearing jewellery, but he had taken the risk nonetheless.

“I thought it would match your evening gown and dress robes,” Harry said softly.

“Thank you Harry! I’ll always treasure it!” Hermione responded breathily. 

Hermione carefully stowed the little green box in her robes and put her arms around Harry’s neck, drawing him in for a kiss. Their lips met tenderly and Harry’s hands encircled Hermione’s slender waist. The kiss deepened, growing more heated as they embraced under the willow tree by the edge of the shimmering blue lake, the afternoon sun catching the golden highlights of Hermione’s hair.


	18. Moody Blues: Part 2

The New Minister pondered her next course of action as she regarded the figure shackled to the stone chair. After being ordered to keep the wizard’s capture a secret for reasons of Ministry security, Chief Auror Scrimgeour had released Crouch Jr from the custody of the Auror office to the Unspeakable Office. 

The younger Crouch had been detained for several weeks in the secret detention wing of the Department of Mysteries and questioned first under Veritaserum, then under the Cruciatus Curse, and yet again under Minister Dolores Umbridge’s personal ministrations. 

Crouch Jr’s head lolled to the side, his eyes void of life. Dolores’s own special techniques of questioning had drained him, and he had died slowly of exsanguination. Unfortunate, but no loss Minister Umbridge decided. Crouch Jr may actually have had the information that she needed at some point, but if so, his mind had been wiped of all knowledge of Voldemort’s hiding place.

If Voldemort had truly returned to Britain, he would no doubt eventually try to get his former followers back. But as it so happened, with Warlock Malfoy’s support in the Wizengamot, those who had supported Voldemort before and had avoided Azkaban had all backed the ousting of Cornelius Fudge and flocked to Dolores’s side... and the New Minister wasn’t certain that she wanted to give them back to Voldemort. 

While the “Dark Lord’s” goals of restoring an openly Pureblood Order to wizarding Britain were certainly laudable, his methods - which had surely been a necessary evil while the Ministry had been in the hands of the Reformers and the Weak - were unruly and chaotic. Indeed, Voldemort’s inability to reign in his temper tantrums had led those of his supporters who had remained at large to regard him as a loose cannon, and all too pleased to consider him dead and gone. 

The New Minister knew that if she could exploit those fears, then Order and Security could be restored to wizarding Britain from within the system, through a proper chain of Authority - _**Her**_ Authority! But Dolores needed more time to solidify her support and demonstrate her commitment to the Restoration of the Pureblood Order. 

Dolores decided that Lucius didn’t need to know of Voldemort’s presence in Britain for the time-being - she would reveal the information only when the time was right or when it could be contained no longer. And it would be best if the public at large did not know either. If Dumbledore tried to make any noise, she could use the lack of evidence to discredit him in the Wizengamot. 

Many of the Warlocks and Witches of the Wizengamot who had been persuaded of Fudge’s incompetence were simply incensed over the debacle at the World Cup. They were weak when it came to defending against the steady decline of their ancient wizarding heritage due to the upsurge of impurity in wizarding blood, having succumbed to the ideas of the Reformists - and the Cult of Potter. They were not prepared yet to remove Dumbledore as Chief Warlock; eroding his support would clearly require further work.

Minister Umbridge considered what to do about Crouch Sr. It would be so easy to sack him and have him arrested for surreptitiously procuring his son’s release from Azkaban, but she already had a rapport with the elder Crouch, and having this over his head would guarantee his unwavering loyalty. As one of the key organisers, he would make an exceptional scapegoat should her plans for the Triwizard tournament be successful. 

She nodded at the Unspeakable tasked to assist her with the interrogation, and he tossed the corpse of the younger Crouch through the Veil.

**~o0o~**

Hedwig looked exhausted after her long journey to Bournemouth and back when she arrived at dinner. Hermione stroked her feathers and gave her a Yorkshire Pudding.

“Thank you Hedwig,” she said, taking the parcel and the envelopes from the snowy owl.

Ron looked up from his plate with a mouthful of shepherd’s pie and gawked as he watched Hedwig affectionately nibble Hermione’s finger before flying off to the owlery for a nap. 

“Wazzupwithowl?” Ron mumbled.

“Must you _**always**_ talk with your mouth full?” snapped Hermione. “It’s disgusting!”

“Er... sorry!” said Ron after hastily swallowing. “I was just wondering when Hedwig became your owl?” he asked with a little chuckle. Harry raised his eyebrows and gave Ron a look.

“For your information, Harry shares Hedwig with me because he’s kind like that,” Hermione retorted coldly. “And Hedwig was just returning from my mum’s with a birthday present.” 

“Oh!” Ron’s ears reddened and he looked away, returning his attention to his dinner plate.

Hermione returned her own gaze to the parcel and the envelopes which Hedwig had brought her and gasped. Harry peered at the envelope and glanced at Hermione’s stricken features.

“Are you alright Hermione?” he asked quietly with concern.

“I... I’m not sure Harry,” she replied. “I... I think I’m going to go now...”

“D’you want me to come with you?”

“Y...yes please! If you don’t mind,” she peered at Harry gratefully as he pushed his half eaten plate of dinner away. 

Ron stared after them as they departed. Lavender, who had been sitting on the other side of Hermione, whispered in Parvati’s ear. Parvati nodded and they both stood up and left the table as well.

“What’s that all about?” Neville asked Ron.

“No idea,” said Ron with a shrug.

Sitting together on the sofa by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, Harry put his arm around Hermione and gently rubbed her back. Heart pounding as her breath quickened, Hermione set the parcel and the envelope from her mother on the table. She peered at the other envelope in her hand, afraid to open it. Harry gave Hermione a kiss on the cheek, and they both turned their heads when they heard the entrance to the Gryffindor tower open again.

“Do you mind if we join you?” asked Parvati, looking concerned.

“It’s just... I saw you’d got something from your father,” said Lavender awkwardly, turning a bit pink. “I’m sorry... I know you’ve got Harry, but... but...”

“We just wanted to see that you’re alright,” Parvati finished for Lavender. “We’ll leave if you just want to be with Harry...”

“No! That’s alright - please stay!” said Hermione with a tearful smile. “Thank you! You’re the only others besides Harry and Luna that I’ve ever talked to about... about...” Hermione couldn’t quite bring herself to say it.

Parvati and Lavender both gave Hermione a hug and sat on the other side of her as Harry smiled gratefully at them. Hermione looked at the envelope a moment longer. It had clearly been posted to her mother first, instead of being sent directly to Hogwarts, and she’d sent it on with Hedwig. Hermione wasn’t certain what that meant, as her father knew very well that wizards monitored the muggle post for letters sent by muggle parents to their children at Hogwarts.

Feeling braver with the extra support, Hermione finally opened the envelope. There was a letter with the birthday card contained inside. Harry, Lavender and Parvati all leaned in to read it with her as she held it in her trembling hands.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Happy Birthday!_

_I know that we haven’t spoken in quite some time, and I don’t know what your mother told you about me after you left. It’s true, I was very cross, and for that I am sorry. I was perhaps a bit more forceful than I should have been. I didn’t mean to frighten you, and I didn’t mean to hit your mother. It was a momentary lapse of judgment and I promise it will never happen again._

_I don’t like you being involved with magic and being at that school, and I’d rather not hear about it. But if you insist on continuing with that lifestyle, I suppose I can learn to live with it as you are still my daughter. I care for you very much and I miss you._

_I am still quite concerned however, about your friendship with the Potter boy. Even with what little I know - or care to know - of your world, I am given to understand that he is very violent and dangerous to be around. From what I have gathered, he killed a man at a very young age and is also a target of those who would seek vengeance._

_I am willing to put certain things behind us so that we can all be together as a family again, but the one thing I must insist upon is that you forget about Potter altogether, and stay as far away from him as possible. Please promise me that you will, and please come home at the end of school term._

_Please tell your mother that I miss her dearly also. She is still cross with me for hitting her, even though it was only the one time. I have begged her to come home, but she refuses. Perhaps you can put in a good word for me, so that we can all be a proper family again._

_Love from,  
Daddy_

Tears streaked Hermione’s burning cheeks as a stew of emotions boiled within her. Her lower lip trembled and bile rose in her throat. Hermione felt Harry freeze beside her and glanced at his ashen, guilt-ridden features; he was speechless. Then she turned and peered at the horrified expressions on Lavender’s and Parvati’s faces.

“That’s utter rubbish!” Lavender snapped vehemently, “Harry’s the nicest boy there is!”

“Lavender’s right Hermione!” said Parvati angrily. “Don’t listen to your father - he doesn’t know _**anything**_ about Harry! And it’s no _**wonder**_ your mum won’t go back to him. He doesn’t even know how to apologise properly...”

“That’s true,” Lavender hotly interjected. “If he was _**really**_ sorry about hitting your mum, he wouldn’t have tried to minimise what he did - twice! And he barely apologised to you at all for scaring you...”

“...and _**not at all**_ for smashing up your things!” Parvati continued. “And he only _‘ **supposes** he can learn to live with’_ your magic as long as you don’t mention it? It’s _**obvious**_ that he still can’t admit how horrible he was to you and your mum... how horrible he’s still being...”

“But he’s right,” said Harry hoarsely, finally finding his voice. “I _**am**_ violent and dangerous - I almost got Hermione killed at the World Cup because I ran off to fight Death Eaters! As long as I’m around...” 

**“NO!”** Hermione shouted, turning to face Harry, fury and determination blazing in her eyes. “That’s **NOT TRUE** Harry! You were **BRAVE** and you put **YOURSELF** in danger to protect others, like when you saved me from the Troll. I followed you by my own choice... remember?” 

“And... and I’ll _**ALWAYS**_ be a target anyway, as long as there are wizards who hate Muggleborns around - not just Voldemort and the Malfoys - but the other ones in the Ministry and the Wizengamot who never got sent to Azkaban! One day we’ll put an end to Voldemort... You and me, _**together**_ , with our friends and Dumbledore... but we’ll _**STILL**_ have to deal with the ones that pretend they’re above it all when they’re not wearing masks! ...” 

“Lavender and Parvati are right! ... You’re kind and brave and loving... and my father doesn’t know _**ANYTHING!**_ ” Hermione concluded with a snarl as scalding tears dripped onto the sofa. 

She savagely crumpled the letter her father had sent into a ball and hurled it into the orange flames crackling in the hearth. She reached for the birthday card as well to chuck it in after the other, but Harry touched her hand gently, silent tears streaming down his own cheeks.

“Not the card Hermione!” said Harry quietly. “No matter what else he is - how horrid he’s being - he still loves you Hermione. Just like I do! On some level... he just wants to protect you. He just doesn’t know how... ”

Hermione’s features softened as she melted in Harry’s iridescent green gaze, glittering in the flickering firelight. She flung herself on Harry and kissed him deeply as Lavender and Parvati watched, their own hearts aching for their friends. Harry felt a warm, luminous glow filling him, thawing the last remnants of ice in his veins.

After a few minutes their lips wetly parted and they both turned pink, remembering that Lavender and Parvati were still with them. Harry and Hermione grinned at their friends, and soon they were all laughing. Feeling much better, Hermione opened the card and the parcel from her mother; she started giggling nervously when she saw it was a vintage edition of _Sense and Sensibility_. 

“I think Mum is trying to tell me something!” Hermione bit her lip, looking amused and embarrassed, then gave Harry another kiss. “It’s a muggle romance novel. She knows I haven’t read many romances...” she explained, “I expect she had an idea what Dad was writing to me.” 

Harry suddenly found himself blushing furiously in the middle of a group hug as the girls all giggled about the book. And that was how Ron and Neville found them all when they were the first to arrive in the Common Room after the end of dinner. An odd expression crossed Ron's features when he saw Harry surrounded by girls.

**~o0o~**

The weeks following Hermione’s birthday passed quickly, and oddly enough, despite the letter from her father, Harry and Hermione both felt much better about things. Hermione told him that she felt some sort of “closure,” and the occasional surges of guilt which had dogged Harry since the World Cup had lessened considerably as he took what Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati said to heart.

Harry had also felt much better after chatting with Sirius and Lupin about things several times with the mirror. They had both been profuse in their praises of Harry and Hermione for exposing the imposter and saving Professor Moody, and were glad that he was keeping his electric-blue eye on things. Sirius had also been a bit apologetic about things in the Wizengamot.

“Unfortunately, there just weren’t enough votes to carry things for Fudge...” he had muttered. “Which doesn’t bode well for Remus, as the new Minister is known to harbour strong prejudices against werewolves. She’s the one who pushed through the anti-werewolf legislation at the end of your Third Year at Hogwarts...”

And there were plenty of other things to keep life interesting. Professor Moody had continued discussing curses, and put everyone under the Imperius Curse. When Harry’s turn had come up, Moody had tried to make Harry jump onto his desk. Harry had ended up bonking his knees on the side of the desk when he resisted the urge to jump.

“Brilliant Potter! Look at that you lot...” Moody had crowed, “Potter fought it and nearly beat it! They’ll have a jolly hard time controlling him! Let’s try that again Potter... Now watch his eyes... that’s where you’ll see it...”

Moody had put Harry through his paces until Harry could throw off the Imperius Curse completely. 

“Blimey Harry, that was amazing! How’d’you do that?” said Ron, before grumbling about the excessive amounts of homework Moody had given everyone else to read up on resisting the Imperius Curse. “...Moody sounds bloody paranoid though... like Dark Wizards are about to attack us all any minute!” Ron concluded.

“Well he’s **right,** isn’t he!” Hermione snapped as Harry rolled his eyes at Ron. “Or have you forgotten about the World Cup already, and the fact that Voldemort and Wormtail are still after Harry?”

Which didn’t stop Ron and many other fourth years from griping about the heavier load of homework in all of their classes. When Dean Thomas complained during Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall had told the class that OWL’s were drawing nearer.

“If by nearer you mean ‘the end of next year’...” Seamus had muttered under his breath. Professor McGonagall had overheard, and pointed out that Hermione and Harry had been the only ones to successfully transfigure their hedgehogs into pincushions.

Binns was droning on about Goblin rebellions, and Snape had everyone researching antidotes. Flitwick had given everyone three extra books to read to prepare for their upcoming lessons on Summoning Charms. He had been rather surprised at first when Hermione had informed him that she and Harry had already learned how to summon things at the beginning of Third Year during their free time, until he remembered how well they’d done on their exams. In the end, Flitwick had them both perform a demonstration for the class.

Before they knew it the end of October drew near, and with it the Triwizard Tournament.

**~o0o~**

After classes let out on the day before Halloween, the students of Hogwarts waited expectantly for the arrival of the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. As everyone looked up at the puffy pink clouds in the late afternoon sky, they gawked in amazement. A massive blue and gold carriage as big as a manor house swept through the sky pulled by a team of flying palomino horses the size of small elephants. It swooped down and lit delicately upon the lawn.

An enormous but rather striking woman in a powder blue cloak stepped out of the carriage and she bent over for Dumbledore to welcome her with a peck on each cheek as his eyes twinkled merrily.

“Eet ees vairy good to see you again my dear Dumbly,” the woman greeted warmly.

“Thank you Madame Maxime, Welcome to Hogwarts!” said Dumbledore, chuckling at her endearment.

She was followed out of the carriage by a number of students, boys and girls, who peered around the Hogwarts grounds with an air of condescension. Madame Maxime looked embarrassed and clapped her hands once to get their attention.

“Manners, please,” she snapped, “We are guests here.”

Most of the Beauxbatons had the decency to look chastened at her admonishment. But a few still appeared disdainful of their new surroundings. Some Ravenclaws introduced themselves, and gradually the Beauxbatons began mingling with the Hogwarts students.

Everyone’s attention was caught by the burbling sound of rushing water and peered at the Black Lake. A whirlpool seemed to be forming in the middle, then a tidal surge rippled across the lake as first a mast appeared, followed by the rest of a sailing vessel which reminded Harry very much of a pirate ship.

Water cascaded off the deck and streamed over the sides of the ship as it rocked. When the ship had finally stabilised and the rush of water had reduced to a drip, people emerged on deck and filled several smaller boats which were lowered to the surface of the lake. After the smaller boats reached the shore, a sly looking wizard with long silver hair, wearing a burgundy cloak, stepped forth and grasped Dumbledore’s hand firmly.

“Ah, Dumbledore, my dear fellow, delighted to see you again,” the wizard said in an unctuous, sibilant voice.

“Likewise Karkaroff...”

Both men smiled at each other, but Harry noticed the smiles didn’t reach their eyes, and Hermione bristled slightly beside him.

“Madame Maxime, it is my pleasure!” offered Karkaroff as he kissed her hand.

“Charmed...” she replied stiffly, looking anything but. Though she did her very best to put on a gracious manner.

As the sun dropped behind the mountains, the guests from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were invited into the castle and made their way towards the Great Hall for dinner. The tables had all been enlarged, but most of the Beauxbatons gravitated to the Ravenclaw table, and most of the Durmstrang students sat with the Slytherins.

As several Beauxbatons girls passed by the Gryffindor table, all of the boys’ heads snapped... except for the one with a messy black moptop and green eyes. Ron stared slack-jawed at the elegant blue-eyed beauty with platinum hair who was dawdling near their table, glancing at the Gryffindors. There was a fleck of drool in the corner of Ron’s mouth. Dean, Seamus, and the Twins looked equally ridiculous. Even Neville and the Creevey brothers were hooked.

Only Harry didn’t seem entranced, though he had to admit that the girl was very pretty. Harry couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculous expression on Ron’s face, catching the platinum blonde Beauxbatons' attention. Hermione narrowed her eyes at the French girl when she saw her glance at Harry. The French beauty shook her head and smirked; some of the other Beauxbatons girls tugged her arm and pulled her away to sit with the Ravenclaws.

“Come _ON_ Fleur, you don’t want to seet wiz zees troglodytes do you?”

Ron was still in a daze until someone else caught his eye. Ron gasped, and his eyes widened; he appeared to be even more excited than he had been to see the French girl. Lavender squealed, apparently equally enthralled by the new arrival, as Parvati giggled at her.

“Harry - look! It’s Viktor Krum! I didn’t know he was still in school...” Ron managed to croak. 

Ron eagerly tried to get the Youngest-Professional-Quidditch-Player-in-History's attention, but Viktor Krum paid little heed as he miserably joined his friends at the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy looked insufferably smug.

Many more dinner selections became available on the golden platters when the Feast began. Hermione’s eyes lit up in delight at the French dishes. Harry was thoroughly impressed with the Bratwurst, Sauerkraut, and German Potato Salad. But he made sure to leave room to try some of the other dishes.

“Harry, you have to try this...” Hermione said when Harry had finished his first plateful of dinner.

She put some Coq au Vin and Gougères on his plate. He tried the cheesy pastries first and his eyes widened in amazement at the rich flavour. When he tasted the Coq au Vin, Harry’s face looked blissful.

“This is fantastic Hermione. It’s as delicious as Shepherd’s Pie...”

Hermione rolled her eyes at the absurd comparison, but she flushed happily nonetheless. After the splendid Feast was finished, and the golden plates were cleared away, Professor Dumbledore introduced two wizards to everyone - both of whom Harry and Hermione were already acquainted with. 

Harry thought Bartemius Crouch Sr appeared rather ill, and unsteady on his feet, though that was hardly unexpected as he was no doubt under a lot of scrutiny at the Ministry for his role in his son’s illegal release from Azkaban. And Ludo Bagman looked as cheerful and shifty as ever. 

Two Aurors carried in an ancient looking wooden chest encrusted with jewels. The hinges creaked when the chest was opened; a roughly hewn wooden Goblet was removed and set upon a podium in the centre of the Great Hall. Ludo Bagman explained the rules for entering the Triwizard Tournament as the Goblet filled itself with blue-white flames.

That evening a number of Hogwarts students tried to put their names in the Goblet, but most couldn’t get past the age barrier. Draco tried, having attempted some sort of charm which he thought might get him through, but he only ended up shrieking in pain and had to be sent to the hospital wing, his hair completely frizzed and smoking.

Several older Slytherins and Ravenclaws put their names in, followed by Cedric Diggory. He successfully dropped a slip of parchment with his name into the blue flames, to the applause of the Hufflepuffs. 

Gryffindors cheered when Angelina Johnson successfully dropped her name into the Goblet. Harry and Hermione both burst out laughing when the Weasley Twins tried to get past the line after taking some aging potions. The twins had both been violently ejected by the age-line and sprouted some excellent long white beards which put Dumbledore’s to shame. Ron glumly looked at the vial of aging potion in the palm of his hand and quietly slipped it back into his pocket.

**~o0o~**

When Harry woke, he wondered why he felt moody and depressed. Then he remembered it was Halloween. Today was the anniversary of the day Voldemort had killed his parents, and without fail, something dreadful always seemed to occur on Halloween at Hogwarts.

It was 5 am - far too early to be awake - but Harry didn’t think he could go back to sleep. Some bile rose with his anger as he lay in bed, wishing that he had Hermione to cuddle. He glanced at Ron, who was snoring loudly, and sighed. Harry dressed and pulled a blanket off his bed, heading downstairs to lie on the sofa by the Common Room fire. It was more peaceful in the quiet of the Common Room and Harry dozed off again. 

Harry felt soft lips pressed against his and gentle arms enfolding him. With a grin, Harry woke and cradled the head full of tumbling tawny brown ringlets in his hands as the kiss deepened. 

“Good Morning Harry,” said Hermione with a little smile. “We’ve only got a few minutes before someone else is bound to come downstairs, so we should make the best of it.” 

They stole another kiss together and Harry was feeling a bit cheerier when it was time for breakfast, but Hermione could see that he was still quite tense.

The anticipation in the castle was high, as everyone was eager to discover who would be chosen as champions for their schools. Hermione buttered another croissant and dipped it into the yolk of her fried egg. As she took a bite, she noticed Padma Patil and Luna directly across the Hall, talking animatedly to the French girl who had caught the attention of the Gryffindor table the previous evening. Hermione smiled, deciding that maybe the French girl was alright after all. 

Nobody could focus in classes that day, and the teachers all gave up trying. Except for Snape, who deducted 5 points apiece from Ron and Seamus for gossiping in class. As soon as classes had finished, Harry wished he could just get away from everyone. He was feeling trapped and all of the excitement had his nerves on edge.

Harry picked at his dinner, his stomach tied in knots. Feeling badly for Harry’s high levels of anxiety, Hermione couldn’t eat either. Harry looked over at Fred and George, who were still taking bets on who would be chosen to be champion after dinner. Harry really didn’t care; he had an ominous feeling that the other shoe was about to drop.

“Want to place a bet Harry?” asked Fred.

Harry shook his head. “Thanks Fred! No, I don’t really care who the champion from Hogwarts is, as long as it’s not a Slytherin.”

“Hear, hear...Well said, Harry...” said George.

“We think it’s probably going to be Cedric Diggory anyway,” Fred whispered, rolling his eyes. 

After dinner, the candlelight diminished and the blue flames in the Goblet cast eerie flickering shadows across the Great Hall. The Headmaster stepped forward and announced that the choosing of the Champions would commence. 

One could have heard a pin drop in the Great Hall as everyone held their breaths in anticipation. Professor Dumbledore snapped his fingers and a parchment flew out of the flames. He caught it deftly, and his sonorous voice resounded through the Hall.

“The champion from Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum.”

There was a swell of applause from the Slytherin table and some of Viktor Krum’s fans around the Hall. Krum glowered as he was directed to a small door at the end of the Hall. The Goblet flared again and Dumbledore caught the next slip of parchment.

“For Beauxbatons, the champion will be Miss Fleur Delacour.”

From the Ravenclaw table there were a few claps, and a few sobs. Hermione was shocked that the Beauxbatons wouldn’t all be happy for Fleur. Another slip flew out of the Goblet. Dumbledore smiled. It was nice for Hufflepuff to have a chance at a bit of Glory for a change.

“And for Hogwarts - the champion is none other than Cedric Diggory.”

The Hufflepuff table uttered a collective gasp, before bursting into delighted cheers. They really hadn’t expected it. Most of Gryffindor table joined in the cheering, even Angelina, but Ron grumbled and Seamus just looked stunned.

“Come on, pay up you two,” Fred sniggered. 

“You should’ve known better than to bet against us,” said George.

To the shock of everyone in the Great Hall, the blue flames flared once more and another parchment shot out of the Goblet. Dumbledore sighed and snatched it from the air. He had almost been expecting this, but had hoped that his fears had been mistaken.

“Harry Potter...” the aged Headmaster said quietly.

The Hall went silent. Harry squirmed in his seat and groaned, feeling all eyes upon him. This was all wrong, but somehow he had known this was going to happen. As a feeling of doom settled over him, Harry shared a dark look with Hermione who gently squeezed his hand.

“No!” he responded.

“Yes Harry! I am afraid so. Please, if you will...” Dumbledore pointed towards the door of the antechamber at the end of the Hall.

“It’s alright Harry,” said Hermione. “I’ll still be here when you get back!”

Harry steeled himself and did as he was told. A murmur of outrage filled the Hall as he got up and made his way through it. Many people glared at him, and Ron gave him a most peculiar look. Harry did his best to ignore everyone and just kept moving.

When he had passed through the door and shut it behind him, he found himself facing the other three champions.

“Vot are you doing here?” asked Krum, peering at Harry in bewilderment.

“Do zey need us back in ze Hall?” asked Fleur. Cedric looked confused. 

Harry swallowed, glancing nervously at each of the three Champions standing near the fireplace. They all seemed so much taller suddenly. Harry fidgeted, not sure how to explain. He took a deep breath to steady himself and had a go at it, hoping they would understand.

“Er... my name came out of the Goblet too. But...”

“Surely you jest...” Fleur interjected, tittering dismissively as if it were a silly prank. It was the little boy she had seen at the Gryffindor table who was obviously still too young to be affected by her charms. Krum’s face darkened but he said nothing.

 _ **“What?”**_ gasped Cedric, “You’re a Champion too?” Cedric Diggory’s perplexed expression turned into a scowl. “...Being the Boy-Who-Lived and scoring two Quidditch trophies in a row not good enough for you eh?” he snapped. “I _**thought**_ you were alright Potter! I suppose you just couldn’t stand that I won that game last year, even though I offered a rematch...”

“It’s not like that!” Harry shouted abruptly, his face reddening. “I didn’t even want to be a Champion - not really anyway. I don’t even know enough spells yet! I didn’t put my name in the Goblet...”

“You really expect me to believe that Potter?” snarled Diggory. “Looks like my father was right about you after all. You’re just a little glory-hound, aren’t you?”

Krum continued to glower at Harry, nodding in agreement with Cedric; Fleur’s disbelieving features turned to puzzlement and her crystal blue eyes flicked up to Harry’s scar.

“Blimey Diggory!” Harry retorted hotly. “I only just started fourth year! How d’you reckon I got past Dumbledore’s age-line and fooled the Goblet then? Don’t be a bloody prat! I’m telling you, I didn’t...”

“Wait...” said Fleur, interrupting, her curiosity getting the better of her when she realised how wrong her first impression had been. “You are ‘Arry Potter?”

“Er...” said Harry, blinking in puzzlement at Fleur’s sudden change in demeanor. He had expected her to start getting cross too. “Yeah... But that doesn’t mean anything...” he added quickly. “ _ **Honestly**_ \- I don’t know why my name came out of the Goblet...”

Krum snorted, and Diggory shook his head angrily. Furious voices and heavy stomps could be heard outside the door, growing louder. Moments later the Headmasters burst into the room with several professors and a few others: Ludo Bagman, who appeared oddly pleased about the turn of events, Crouch Sr, looking very pale and not well at all, and the two Aurors who had been guarding the Goblet.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Harry anxiously burst out, hoping beyond all hope that the Headmaster would believe him, “I swear, I didn’t...” 

“Explain yourself Dumbledore. What is the meaning of this?” Karkaroff snarled, cutting Harry off and waving his hand at Harry. “Hogwarts cannot have two Champions!”

“But I didn’t...” Harry tried again.

“Oui, please! How can this be Albus?” Madame Maxime queried with a hurt look on her face, completely ignoring Harry. “I cannot believe zat you would betray our friendship so...”

“I do not know how this is possible. But I can assure you that Harry did NOT willingly enter his name,” Dumbledore responded firmly but politely. 

“Professor Dumbledore is right!” said Harry, taking the opportunity to get a word in edgewise. “I didn’t put my name in the Goblet. I don’t know how to get past the age line and I don’t even want to be in this bloody tournament anyway...”

“You are a liar!” sneered Karkaroff. “No doubt you had an older student put your name in for you...”

“Impossible!” Moody growled. “Steps were taken to prevent that!”

“If I may suggest, Karkaroff,” Snape interjected, raising his eyebrows as he stared into Harry’s eyes, his own dark eyes glittering, “perhaps a dose of Veritaserum would reveal the truth.” 

“Thank you Severus,” said Dumbledore. “A very sensible suggestion indeed. Harry, would you be willing...?”

“I’ll do it...” said Harry quickly, “I’ll take some Veritaserum to prove I didn’t enter!”

“Thank you Harry!” Dumbledore turned towards Professor Snape, “Severus, if you would be so kind?” Dumbledore asked. Snape peered at Harry with an almost sad expression, and began to move towards the door.

“That won’t be necessary!” conceded Karkaroff. He turned his anger on Bagman and Crouch; Bagman smirked and shiftily looked away. “So, Crouch, what are you going to do about this?”

Crouch stiffened, his moustache bristling. He coughed uncomfortably. “I can do nothing. Once the Goblet has rendered its decision, it is final, and it shall not reignite until the next tournament.” 

“Which Durmstrang will most certainly not be participating in!” snapped Karkaroff. “And I am of half a mind to withdraw from this tournament if Durmstrang is not allowed equal representation...” 

“That’s quite impossible my dear fellow,” Bagman interrupted almost cheerfully, his eyes darting towards Harry. “The magic of the Goblet represents a binding magical contract. The magical penalty for withdrawing is the same as for any other form of Unbreakable Vow.”

“But they’re just children! How could you...?” Professor McGonagall gasped in shock

Crouch stared inscrutably as Ludo Bagman shrugged. Professor Dumbledore took off his half-moon spectacles and massaged his temples.

**~o0o~**

Hermione flung her arms around Harry the moment he exited the anteroom into the Great Hall, which was empty now except for the other departing Champions and the adult wizards. A bad feeling gnawed at Harry’s gut as he wondered where Ron was.

“Are you alright Harry?” Hermione tearfully asked. 

“Thanks for believing me Hermione...”

“Of _**course**_ I believe you Harry!” Hermione squeezed Harry a bit tighter and kissed him on the cheek. “What happened in there?”

“I’ve _**got**_ to compete,” Harry sighed. “According to Bagman, the decision of the Goblet is binding... like an Unbreakable Vow.”

“Wh...what?” Hermione’s face fell in horror. “Y...you mean....”

“Yeah...” Harry muttered darkly as they made their way to the marble staircase. “I’m as good as dead if I withdraw.”

“Harry, someone’s _**obviously**_ trying to get you killed. But if Mr Crouch’s son has been sent back to Azkaban...” Hermione began.

“...then it has to be someone else,” continued Harry. “I know Hermione, but who? Surely _**everyone’s**_ being checked for polyjuice potion now.”

“It has to be someone already in the Ministry,” Hermione’s brows furrowed, “someone with a grudge against you. Someone with a lot of political power or connected to someone who’s powerful... Harry, What if this whole tournament was just conceived of as a way to get at you? What if someone put Crouch Sr and Bagman up to it?”

“Blimey Hermione!” Harry’s eyes widened in shock as he considered the possibility. “You’re beginning to sound like Professor Moody. D’you really think someone other than Voldy would go through all that trouble just to do me in?” 

“I know it seems far-fetched - but yes, Harry!” Hermione nodded reluctantly. “If someone in the Ministry hates you as much as Voldemort does, they wouldn’t want to expose themselves. They’d want to make it look like an accident, or something that you’d brought on yourself... It could even be the new Minister if she’s...”

“...a friend of Lucius Malfoy! Bloody hell Hermione, you’re absolutely right! Maybe she really is connected to Voldemort somehow!”

Harry swallowed nervously as a shiver ran up his spine. They were both silent as they made their way to Gryffindor Tower. Harry’s quiet rumination was shattered as a dozen hands yanked him into the noisy Common Room. Many Gryffindors were shouting and cheering, clapping him on the back and forcing butterbeers into his hands as he tried to pull away from them and get back to Hermione.

“Bloody Brilliant Harry!” shouted Fred.

“How’d’you do it?” said George, grinning.

“I didn’t put my name in,” Harry groaned. “I swear I didn’t. I don’t even want to be in the bloody tournament and I wouldn’t even know how...”

The twins’ eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Oh! Well we believe you, don’t we Fred?” George peered at his brother.

“Of course we do. Harry’s never steered us wrong...” Fred replied. “...and if it weren’t for him and Hermione, our little sister would still be possessed by You-Know-Who...”

“...or worse!” said George.

“Regardless Harry, we still support you...” Fred continued cheerfully.

“We believe you too Harry,” said Parvati quietly as Lavender and Neville nodded in agreement. 

“Hermione told us what you both suspect,” murmured Lavender, looking scared for Harry.

But other than Fred and George, and Parvati, Lavender, Neville, and Ginny, the rest of Gryffindor all seemed to dismiss Harry’s and Hermione’s protestations that he hadn’t purposefully entered. And though most of Gryffindor was quite pleased that one of their own was a Champion, there were more than a few older Gryffindors who glowered at Harry with remarkably Slytherin expressions. Harry could have sworn he even heard a burly fifth year student named Mclaggen mutter something like “attention-seeking prat.”

“I’m over this!” Harry muttered to Hermione, in no mood to celebrate, “I’m off to bed then...”

Hermione peered after Harry worriedly as he finally managed to break free and make his way to the dormitory. She began to head up to her own dorm, then sat back down, sighing heavily and wondering where her sudden premonition had come from. It was usually Harry who got those sorts of feelings.

**~o0o~**

Harry knew something was up the moment he saw Ron lying on his bed staring at him with a sickly grimace. Hoping he was wrong, Harry approached his own bed, his breath quickening involuntarily.

“So, Congratulations Harry!” said Ron in a strained sort of voice.

“Really Ron?” muttered Harry, nostrils flaring as he felt a surge of anger.

“Well... yeah! I mean... you’re a Champion right?”

“I didn’t put my name in the Goblet Ron...”

“Oh... right! Just like you didn’t know that the Triwizard Tournament was going to happen - even though you’re best friends with the Minister...”

“You mean the ex-Minister...”

“Whatever! You know Harry, I just thought you might want to tell your best friend... give me a shot at it too...”

“Of _**course**_ I would’ve, but just listen to me Ron! I didn’t enter...”

 **“DON'T GIVE ME THAT RUBBISH!”** Ron suddenly bellowed. **“I reckon Malfoy was right about you! ... I suppose it takes another pampered prince to know one! _You just want it ALL don’t you! It’s not enough that you’re already bloody rich and famous and get all the girls... You have to bloody RUB IT IN, DON’T YOU? ... Prove that you're better than everyone else ... I’m not stupid you know!_ ...”**

“Well you’re doing a bloody good impression of it Ron,” Harry snapped. 

Harry couldn’t believe this was happening... except that he could. Harry thought back to all of the odd looks Ron had given him that he’d ignored, or chalked up to something else, and all of the offhand comments for which he’d given Ron the benefit of the doubt, and he suddenly realised that this had been a long time coming. 

“Oh yeah?” snarled Ron. “You should probably get some sleep Harry! You’ll want to get your beauty rest for your photo-calls tomorrow...”

Harry had thought that Ron would be one of the few who would believe him... except that deep down inside, Harry now knew that he had been afraid that Ron wouldn’t. Ron was supposed to be one of his best friends - his first real friend... A ball of fury burned in the pit of Harry’s stomach that he couldn’t quite put words to; all he knew was that he’d finally reached a sort of tipping point, and that he couldn’t bear to look at Ron anymore.

Harry turned on his heel and stormed back out of the Fourth Year dorm, looking for the friends that he knew still believed in him.

**~o0o~**

Hermione’s face fell when she saw Harry reappearing in the Common Room. It wasn’t unexpected, but she’d rather hoped that she had been wrong. The thunderous expression on Harry’s visage told her everything she needed to know.

“It’s Ron isn’t it?” she asked unnecessarily. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Harry muttered, nodding curtly as he rubbed at his burning scar. The walls seemed to be closing in on him; his nerves were all on fire. Everyone’s faces seemed to loom at him when they turned to congratulate him again, and the sound of cheer set his teeth on edge.

“But where will we go Harry? We’ve only got an extra hour before curfew tonight.”

“I don’t know... I don’t care! I’ve got my invisibility cloak if we need it. I... I just know that I’m going to explode if I stick around here, Hermione!”

Hermione could almost feel the agitation rolling off Harry in waves, and knew that he couldn’t hold it together much longer. They slipped out of the portrait hole together and made their way through the corridors, trying to avoid the main passageways as Harry looked for somewhere to hide from everyone. 

Finding themselves trapped in the corridor with the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, small groups of students milling at either end, Harry paced back and forth several times trying to think of a good place to hide as Hermione looked on anxiously. Hermione’s breath caught and her eyes boggled at the wall where a door had just magically appeared. 

“Harry,” she squeaked, “Look...”

“What the...? Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know Harry.”

Harry peered at Hermione, his eyebrows raised as his heart began to thud rapidly. 

“Er... shall we then?” he asked. Hermione nodded.

In great trepidation, Harry tentatively opened the door and led the way. They both gasped in awe at the sight they beheld: a cavernous room larger than a cathedral, full of all manner of items from the mundane to the strange: empty bottles of sherry, ancient broken pieces of furniture, fanged frisbees, statues, self-slinging slingshots, half-covered paintings, oddly shaped skeletons, heaping mountains of books, rusting swords - far too many things to catalogue in a month of Sundays, many of them caked with thick layers of dust. 

The hair on the back of Harry’s neck stood on end as he felt a sharp searing pain in his forehead and his stomach clenched. He gasped and clutched at his scar, staggering.

“Harry!” squealed Hermione as a terrible thought gripped her. “Wh...what’s wrong? Is this a trap of some sort? _**He’s**_ not here is he?” 

“No... I don’t think so Hermione. I... I think there’s a Horcrux somewhere in this room,” said Harry, gritting his teeth and bracing himself against the pain.

“Seriously?” Hermione breath quickened, “Can you tell where it is Harry?” she asked, her heart pounding in her ears.

“I... I think so Hermione. The pain will get worse as I get near it.”

Harry led Hermione up and down, and all around, through aisles of centuries’ worth of detritus. Finally he stopped and stared at a crumbling stone bust with a tarnished dusty tiara perched on its head.

“The tiara Hermione,” Harry whispered, “The tiara is the Horcrux.” 

With shaking hands, Hermione lifted the Tiara from the bust and carefully stowed it in her robes.

“We’d better get this to Dumbledore immediately Hermione.” Harry didn’t know why he was still whispering. It just seemed like the thing to do.

“Of course Harry...”

In short order, they managed to find their way out of the room. Harry and Hermione raced through the castle, making their way to the gargoyle which guarded Dumbledore’s office.

“Cockroach Cluster,” Harry wheezed breathlessly. The stone gargoyle jumped aside, and the two young wizards ran up the spiral staircase, not waiting for it to carry them up to the top. Harry grabbed the brass knocker and banged loudly on the door.

“Ah! Harry, Miss Granger,” said Dumbledore with a twinkle when the door opened. “This is a surprise at this time of night, but not unwelcome or entirely unexpected. No doubt you both have many questions regarding the Goblet choosing Harry as a second Hogwarts Champion - indeed I was just discussing the matter with Alastor...”

Hermione glanced at the disfigured ex-Auror as Harry slumped on her shoulder, sweat dripping from his pale face, his chest heaving.

“I’m sorry Professor, but this is urgent,” Hermione interrupted as Harry gasped, still trying to catch his breath.

“Nothing to do with the Triwizard Tournament sir...” Harry managed to groan, his scar throbbing painfully. “I... I think you’ll need the Sword of Gryffindor for this!” said Harry as Hermione reached into her robes and held out the stained tiara in her trembling hand.

Mad Eye’s glass eye stopped spinning and came to a dead halt as his jaw dropped. Professor Dumbledore shot up from his seat, pulled off his spectacles, wiped them on his robes, and put them back on again. His eyes bulged with shock. He wiped his spectacles and replaced them again, just to be absolutely certain.

“Merlin’s saggy balls!” sputtered Mad Eye, “Is... is that what I think it is Albus?”

“Why yes Alastor! I believe so - The Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw. And if I’m not mistaken, our two young heroes have just discovered yet another of Tom Riddle’s Horcruxes.” The Headmaster lifted the Sword of Gryffindor from its perch on the wall of his office.

“My apologies Harry, but I daresay that you appear to have had more than enough stress to deal with today. I believe it would be best if I handled this one...”

“Go for it!” Harry muttered, gasping with relief. He just wanted the pain to stop. “This one’s all yours...” 

“Stand back everyone,” warned Dumbledore. “This will likely be a bit... violent.”

Dumbledore placed the Diadem in the centre of the floor and swung the Sword. It struck the Horcrux with a burst of sparks and a ghastly shriek echoed as it had before. A turbulent gale ripped through Dumbledore’s office as a swirling tornado of black smoke billowed from the diadem. After a few minutes the howling tempest finally came to an end, and an oozing black venom bled from the shattered crown.

Harry was barely standing and his knees wobbled. Before she could stop herself, Hermione kissed him deeply and tearfully. She pulled back blushing after several moments had passed, remembering that the Headmaster and the ex-Auror were watching.

As before, Dumbledore opened his desk and pulled out a bottle of Ogden’s Finest Firewhiskey and poured everyone a shot with his own shaking hands. Harry wondered again that it didn’t seem to burn his throat as much as Seamus’s flask of Firewhiskey at the World Cup. Between Hermione’s kiss, and the effects of the liquor, the searing pain in his scar began to subside rapidly. 

“Well colour me impressed Potter! Thanks to you, we’re well on our way into turning Voldemort into Full-Dead!” Mad-Eye said approvingly.

“I...I don’t think I could have managed it without Hermione really. Those bloody horcruxes are a pain - literally. But it’s not so bad when Hermione’s with me.”

Moody gazed astutely at the young witch, as if sizing her up. Hermione cringed, withering a bit under the scrutiny of Mad Eye’s discerning eyeball.

“Hmmm... Granger, indeed! Remus and Sirius did say that she's the Brightest Witch they’ve ever met besides your mother, Potter. And I saw how ready you both were to fight those scum at the World Cup... Anyway, Dumbledore and I have been having a good chat about who mighta put your name in the Goblet, and how to keep you alive Potter. Can’t say we know who’s behind it for certain - but we have our suspicions...” 

“I’ll be trainin’ you up a bit so you can compete fair and square with the older students and make it through in one piece - Triwizard ‘rules’ be damned - and I’d say Granger might as well join us seein’ as you’re both practically married already... We’ll have you two whipped into shape and ready to make Death Eaters eat death in no time...”

Dumbledore coughed and palmed his face; Mad Eye snorted.

“...but we’ll focus on gettin’ you through this tournament first, Potter. Mark my words though, there’s going to be no more foolishness about mollycoddling criminals when you’re in a fight for your lives. _**Right Albus?**_ ” Moody grimaced as his eye spun to the back of his head.

“Quite...” Dumbledore replied in a small voice.

“Right! I’ll give you two a trainin’ schedule sometime tomorrow, then we’ll get cracking. The First Task is November 24th. That doesn’t give us much time. There’ll be Aurors stationed here at Hogwarts to secure the tournament from here on out, so we’ll need somewhere to train where whoever is on the Ministry payroll can’t spy on us... we’re still workin’ on that!”

Harry and Hermione departed from Dumbledore’s office, both of them blushing furiously and unable to meet each other’s eyes as Moody’s offhand comment about marriage echoed in their skulls. Curfew was nearly upon them, but Harry had no desire to return to the dormitory and be near Ron - especially while he still felt so out of sorts from dealing with the Horcrux. Harry slipped his Invisibility Cloak over himself and Hermione, and they made their way to the Astronomy Tower.

Harry finally began to settle as he cuddled Hermione under starry skies, sharing increasingly steamy kisses. The stone walls of the battlements blocked the worst of the cold wind, and the heat of their passionate embrace did the rest. Pressed closely together, hands roaming, caressing fingers trailing across each other’s curves, Harry’s humid lips tenderly traced a path to Hermione’s neck as she quivered and gasped at the electrifying tingles coursing through her...


	19. The Worst of Times?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Lemony version of the chapter, look for _Moments in Love: the Steamy Version_ in my Works.

The days and weeks following Harry’s choosing by the Goblet of Fire as Hogwarts’ second Champion were among the worst he had ever faced at Hogwarts. It was almost like Second Year and being the “Heir of Slytherin” all over again. 

In some ways the new situation was even worse. It appeared that he had lost one of the friends that he’d counted on the most since he had come to Hogwarts - the first friend that he had ever had.

Ron had chosen to disbelieve him in a fit of jealous rage. Harry knew there was no point trying to argue with Ron; he had tried to reason with Ron last night, but their friendship appeared to be damaged beyond repair. Ron had made it absolutely clear what he really thought of Harry. 

Harry was still shocked that Ron had taken Malfoy’s taunts seriously and used them against him. He was miserable and angry about it in fact. Harry furiously decided that he was glad that he didn’t have to put up with Ron’s rubbish anymore. If Ron was going to be a stupid prat about things, fine! 

But in some ways, things were much better than Second Year. At least Harry had the support of the few other friends who stood with him. There was still Neville. Ginny and the Twins, and Parvati and Lavender all seemed to believe him too. And most importantly, Harry had the support of his best friend - his _**girlfriend**_ \- Hermione. And that made all the difference in the world.

**~o0o~**

When Harry woke early on Sunday morning after the choosing, stiff, sore, and slightly chilled, he was surprised to find himself still on the cobbled terrace at the top of the Astronomy Tower. He supposed he would have been a lot colder if it weren’t for the fact that he and Hermione were still huddled together under their robes, arms still wrapped around one another.

Harry felt a surge of warmth as he held Hermione a bit tighter and kissed her bushy head. Hermione stirred, blinking as the fuchsia rays of dawn peeked from behind the mountains. Eyes met, and they both blushed as deeply as the sky, their breath clouding in the frigid air.

“Er...” Harry began awkwardly, his breath caught when he remembered where his hands had roamed before he had stopped them from going too far. Hermione giggled shyly, remembering where her own hands had been, and pressed her lips to his, wishing that Harry had gone a bit further.

“Good Morning Harry!” she said when their lips separated. “Shall we get some breakfast then?” 

“Er... Yeah!” Harry croaked, letting out a sigh of relief as he gave Hermione a lopsided grin.

Groaning from the aches of sleeping on cold cobblestone, Harry and Hermione got up and returned to Gryffindor Tower to shower and put on clean clothes before heading to the Great Hall. When Harry spotted Ron’s empty bed, he was glad that Ron hadn’t slept-in as he usually did on Sunday mornings. Harry felt a surge of bitterness as he dressed, realising that he had no desire to see Ron in the Great Hall either - or anyone else for that matter - knowing that all eyes would be on him, most of them unfriendly. 

“Wait here!” said Hermione knowingly when they reached the entrance of the Hall. Moments later she returned with a stack of toast and a pile of bacon wrapped in a napkin. “Shall we go for a walk then?”

“Yeah... Thanks Hermione,” said Harry gratefully. “I’ve still got a few knots and kinks to work out anyway.”

“Me too,” Hermione admitted, biting her lip and blushing again as they exited the castle. 

“Sorry about that Hermione! After you made me feel a bit better, I... er... I _**meant**_ to go back when I thought Ron would be asleep.”

“No, it’s alright Harry! I dozed off too...” 

When they reached the birches at the edge of the Black Lake, the pair kept moving, munching toast and bacon as they eyed the Durmstrang ship gently rocking in the chilly breeze. It was peaceful by the lake; the ripples on the surface of the water glimmered in the morning sunlight poking through the gaps in the clouds as the ducks played by the shore.

Harry tensed up when he heard footsteps rustling behind them, and turned around uncertainly.

“It’s okay - it’s just me,” said Luna, her big silvery-grey eyes full of concern. “I saw Hermione come into the Hall and leave again. I thought she might be getting you breakfast... I’m sorry about what happened Harry!”

“You believe me then - that I didn’t enter?” Harry peered at Luna hopefully as Hermione smiled.

“Of course I do Harry!” Luna said earnestly, “I saw how scared you looked when your name came out of the Goblet. And I know you’re not a cheater.”

“Thanks Luna!” Harry relaxed a bit and sighed. “You’re probably the only one outside of Gryffindor that doesn’t hate me right now - and even a few of them do...”

“I know! I saw your friend Ron,” said Luna sympathetically. “He looks really jealous,” she continued bluntly, “It’s not just me outside of Gryffindor though. Parvati told Padma what happened, and she believes you too. But I think Cho’s rather gone off you - I saw her chatting up Cedric at breakfast!”

Hermione couldn’t help feeling a surge of satisfaction at that last bit of information, followed immediately by a flush of guilt; Harry needed all the support he could get. For his part, Harry felt quite relieved at the news, as Hermione always seemed to get a bit cross whenever Cho batted her eyelashes at him. Harry supposed he’d even be rather happy for Cedric Diggory if Diggory wasn’t being such a bloody git at the moment.

Luna walked with Harry and Hermione by the lakeshore while they finished their toast and bacon. Feeling full and a bit more cheered, Harry tore up his last piece of toast and scattered it for the happy ducks.

Afterwards, Harry took Hermione’s advice and called Sirius on his mirror. Harry told him about everything: about his name coming out of the Goblet, about finding another horcrux, - even about Ron not believing him. Sirius seemed troubled when Harry brought up his and Hermione’s suspicions that someone in the Ministry might be behind things - someone connected to Malfoy perhaps. Sirius shared a dark look with Lupin before turning back to Harry.

“Unfortunately, that seems quite likely!” Sirius muttered. “I spoke briefly with Moody and Dumbledore last night about the situation, and they both seem to be leaning to the same conclusion. I’m glad Moody’s talked Dumbledore into letting him train you up a bit.”

“Yeah, _**that**_ part is brilliant!” said Harry excitedly. “He’s going to train Hermione too - we just need to find somewhere in Hogwarts to practice where we can’t be spied on.”

“Hmm... indeed!” Sirius responded. “Remus and I will give that some thought too. We both know Hogwarts like the backs of our hands...”

“Though, that room of hidden things is certainly a new one on us,” added Lupin as he peered over Sirius’s shoulder with his eyebrows raised. “Even Dumbledore seems quite surprised.” 

“I was also wondering...” Sirius looked distracted by a stray thought for a moment, not finishing his sentence. “Right... well, anyway, if we come up with something I’ll contact Mad Eye straight away. Don’t hesitate to call either of us again if you want to chat about anything Harry!”

Following the mirror-call, Harry and Hermione just tried to stay out of everybody’s way, but it proved nearly as hard to avoid everyone as it had the night before. Hermione was stalwart and brought Harry platefuls of lunch and dinner as well, but finding places to hang out where nobody else could glare and make rude comments about him grew more difficult throughout the day.

“You’re going to have to face everyone sooner or later,” Hermione sighed as they sat in the boathouse together eating dinner.

“Yeah... I know!” Harry grumbled after swallowing a piece of steak and kidney pie. “I think I could deal with it a bit better if I didn’t have to share a dorm with a prat who thinks I’m as bad as Malfoy.”

“Are you serious? Ron actually said that?” Hermione looked shocked.

“More or less!” Harry muttered darkly. “Said he reckoned Malfoy was right about me and called me a pampered prince!”

“Ron thinks you knew all about the tournament from the start and didn’t tell him, doesn’t he?” said Hermione, remembering Ron’s attitude after the incident with Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express.

Harry nodded glumly and stabbed viciously at another piece of pie with his fork, wishing he had something to wash it down with. He was extremely grateful that Hermione had brought him dinner, but she only had two hands. A cracking sound echoed in the boathouse; Harry nearly choked on the piece of pie and Hermione shrieked.

“D...Dobby?” gasped Harry, his eyes nearly popping out of his head when he spotted the house-elf, who had appeared out of thin air, holding two bottles in his little hands and wearing an extremely odd assortment of clothes. “Is that really you?”

“It _**is**_ Dobby sir, it is!” squeaked the ecstatic house-elf. 

“Wh...what are you doing here? ...in the boathouse, I mean! Hermione and I have been meaning to look for you, but we weren’t really sure where to start.”

“Dobby is looking after Harry Potter sir - but Dobby is staying out of sight like a good house-elf now that Dobby is being paid properly by the Headmaster sir... Then Dobby sees Harry Potter is not sleeping in his bed last night, and Winky tells Dobby that Harry Potter is not showing up for meals...”

“But then Dobby sees Harry Potter’s Miss Granger is taking two plates of food at dinner, and Dobby follows. Dobby is bringing Harry Potter and his Hermione drinks sir. Harry Potter and his girlfriend is being thirsty... it is not good being dehydrated sir!”

Despite himself, Harry burst out laughing as Dobby passed him and Hermione a bottle each of butterbeer.

“Thanks Dobby!” Harry chortled. “That _**was**_ perfect timing, I was dying of thirst!”

“Is Winky here too then, Dobby?” asked Hermione. “Is she alright?”

Dobby’s face fell.

“Winky is being a very sad house-elf, miss. Winky is not liking freedom - she is not wanting to be paid - though Headmaster offers - and is not liking her clothes. Other house-elfs is being ashamed of Dobby and Winky miss - they is thinking that we is bad house-elfs. Winky is drinking too much and pining away for her master - Winky is believing that she is a disgraced house-elf.”

“That’s dreadful! Poor Winky,” said Hermione. 

“Isn’t there anything we can do to help Winky?” asked Harry.

“No sir! Winky is not being happy without her master. There is nothing to be doing that is helping Winky.”

Harry shared a dejected look with Hermione.

“It’s alright Harry,” said Hermione resignedly. “I know we’ll have to think of some other way to help house-elves. Anyway, it’s more important that we focus on getting you safely through the tournament right now.”

“Yeah... I suppose so!” Harry sighed and turned back to Dobby. “Thanks for the drinks Dobby. I’m glad you came to see me. You can visit me or Hermione any time you like - alright? We don’t care about that house-elves staying out of sight rubbish. You’re our _**friend**_... and besides, you’re a Free Elf! ”

“Thank you Harry Potter sir!” Dobby squealed happily. “And if Harry Potter or Hermione Granger is needing Dobby, all you has to do is call Dobby’s name sir! Is there anything else that Harry Potter or Miss Granger is needing now?”

A sudden thought struck Harry and Hermione at the same time and they glanced at each other.

“Er... I don’t suppose you know a good place at Hogwarts to train for the Triwizard tournament where the Ministry’s security people can’t spy on us do you?” Harry asked Dobby hopefully.

“But Harry Potter already knows sir!” Dobby replied, his round eyes growing bigger with surprise. “Every house-elf hears that Harry Potter is finding the Room of Requirement last night! We calls it the Come and Go Room sir...” 

**~o0o~**

Buoyed by Dobby’s explanation of the Room of Requirement’s workings - and a nice cuddle with Hermione in the boathouse following dinner - Harry braced himself for the return to his dormitory. Sure enough, the moment Harry walked into the room, Ron scowled at him and violently yanked his crimson velvet hangings closed around his bed.

“I tried to tell him again that you didn’t enter,” Neville said, giving Harry a sympathetic look. Harry nodded gratefully.

Seamus and Dean both avoided Harry’s gaze. Harry furiously pulled his own bed-curtains closed, knowing that Ron had been filling their heads with rubbish. He tried to force his anxiety about the tournament and his anger at Ron out of his mind with the memory of the last kiss that he’d shared with Hermione in the boathouse. Fortunately that seemed to work and Harry was soon asleep.

**~o0o~**

Harry knew better than to expect things to improve when classes resumed on Monday, but he had by and large resigned himself to it. The Hufflepuffs he understood being upset with him, as Cedric was their Champion, and the Slytherins didn’t need an excuse to hate Harry.

He felt a bit better knowing that at least two Ravenclaws were on his side. Harry glanced at their table during breakfast and noticed Fleur talking to Padma and Luna. Fleur caught his eye and gave him a sympathetic smile. Harry turned a bit pink and quickly refocused his attention on his scrambled eggs and bangers, not wanting to give Hermione a reason to be cross. 

Harry braced himself for Herbology with the Hufflepuffs that morning. It was bad enough that he had to face the sour expressions of Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Ron was repotting Bouncing Bulbs at the same tray as him and Hermione as well.

Ron sniggered along with Ernie and Justin’s chortles when Harry’s Bouncing Bulb slipped from his grasp and whacked him on the forehead. Hermione shot Ron a look of outrage and he snorted at her with a disdainful smirk, muttering something about “Famous Potter’s girlfriend” under his breath.

Ron’s nasty smirk turned into a scowl when Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott took a break from repotting their bulbs with Neville, and sharply elbowed their way past Ernie and Justin, ostensibly on their way to get more potting soil.

“Neville told us what happened Harry!” Susan said with a pointed look at the two Hufflepuff boys who were both groaning and holding their ribs. 

“And _**we**_ believe you didn’t do it on purpose Harry,” Hannah added, glowering at Justin and Ernie. “It’s not like these two thickheads have ever been right about you before!”

“Good luck Harry!” said Susan. 

“Er... th...thanks!” Harry stammered in astonishment as Hermione beamed gratefully at Susan and Hannah. Ron’s ears turned crimson as he grabbed his pot and went to look for another tray to work at. 

Harry was so pleased at having found unexpected support in the House of Hufflepuff, that he almost didn’t even care that his and Hermione’s next class was Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins. Ron sauntered off with Seamus and Dean, making a point of ignoring Harry, staying as far away from him and Hermione as possible - which Harry found to be a great improvement over his close proximity during Herbology.

Draco Malfoy swaggered up to the clearing at the edge of the woods near Hagrid’s hut with his goon-squad, his typical sneer plastered firmly on his pasty features. 

“Gather round lads, it’s the Famous Champion,” Malfoy pontificated to his little entourage. “Better get your autographs now before he snuffs it in the First Task. I’m betting he doesn’t last 10 minutes before he’s killed... What do you reckon Potter?” he concluded. Crabbe and Goyle chortled sycophantically.

“I think you’d better hope the First Task is worse than the Basilisk I killed in Second Year Malfoy...” Harry retorted with an air of nonchalance that he didn’t really feel. “You remember it don’t you? The one your daddy set loose on the school?”

“You shouldn’t tell lies, Potter!” spat Malfoy, flushing angrily as the students who were close enough to hear the exchange gasped at Harry’s response. 

Harry felt a surge of satisfaction at having siphoned off some of his own fury into Malfoy. But he didn’t need to see the anxious look on Hermione’s face to know that he’d been a bit reckless with his words; he couldn’t prove that Lucius Malfoy had been behind it after all. Harry felt a bit guilty for upsetting Hermione, but he was damned if he was going to let a cowardly little creep with homicidal tendencies like Malfoy get one up on him. At least he’d shut Malfoy up.

“Sorry Hermione,” Harry said quietly as Malfoy and his gang stalked away. “I suppose I...”

“It’s alright Harry,” Hermione interjected with a sad smile as she took his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Under the circumstances, it’s too much to expect you to bottle up _**all**_ of your feelings with everything you’ve had to put up with.”

That evening after classes, Professor Moody caught up with Harry and Hermione as they left Gryffindor Tower and made their way to dinner. Moody’s eye spun around wildly, making sure that nobody else was in earshot.

“Ah, there you are, you two. Good! I’ve got workout schedules and lessons planned out,” Moody growled. “You’ll both need lots of practice to get you into fighting shape.”

“And we’ve found a place where we can take the lessons and practice the spells,” Harry began excitedly while Hermione looked over the schedules. “Dobby the house-elf told us how that secret room we found works. It’s not just a place for hiding things. It’s magic - it can be whatever sort of room we want it to be... it’s perfect.”

Hermione’s face fell when she saw that they’d have to spend at least an hour every day on physical exercises, as well as four training sessions a week - each an hour and a half long, including hand to hand combat lessons. That meant less time for the library.

“I thought this was all going to be about learning spells,” she remarked sadly. Moody grunted.

“Toughening up your body and developing speed and stamina is just as important in a fight Granger. The wizard who lasts longer and dodges faster is the one who lives... And sometimes there’s just no substitution for well placed kick or punch. There’s nothin’ better than muggle fighting techniques for throwing wizards off their game.”

Hermione's features brightened when she realised how sensible Moody’s plan was. 

“Anyway, there’s still going to be plenty of spellwork Granger,” continued the grizzled ex-Auror, “You’ll both need to get some advanced charms books and bone up on stunning and shielding spells, and a bit more as I add ‘em in...”

“Oh!” said Hermione, her eyes widening. “We’ve been reading up on those since school-term began.... and some of the other spells like Bombarda and Confringo. Harry and I were planning on teaching ourselves once we’d found a good place to practice them anyway.”

“Excellent! I knew you two were a couple o’ eager beavers!” said Moody, nodding with approval. “We’ll be able to start on practical techniques that much quicker then. Meet me in my office after classes tomorrow - you can show me the magical room then...”

“And just one more thing Potter... I spoke to Sirius, and Dumbledore is on board. You’ll be movin’ into your new quarters after dinner tonight...”

“Wait, _**what?**_ ” Harry gasped; Hermione’s jaw dropped incredulously. “What do you mean, _**new quarters?**_ ”

“I mean Private Chambers Potter!” Moody replied with an ugly grin, his electric-blue eye glancing at Hermione before returning to Harry. 

“But _**why?**_ ” Harry frowned at Moody in perplex, his skyrocketing anxiety warning him that certain others might see this as more proof that the Famous Harry Potter always got preferential treatment. 

“It’s for your safety Potter!” said Moody gruffly. “From what Sirius tells me, gettin’ into Gryffindor Tower isn’t too hard if you’ve got the passcodes. And nearly every kid in that Tower is a potential security breach as far as I’m concerned... except for maybe one I could mention!” Moody’s eyeball darted towards Hermione briefly again, then refocused its piercing gaze on Harry.

“H...Harry, m...maybe Professor Moody is right...” Hermione nervously stammered, seeing the look on Harry’s face.

“But I don’t want to be treated differently,” Harry muttered angrily through gritted teeth. “People already think I get special treatment as it is...”

“Sorry Potter!” Moody snapped. “But that’s part o’ the price of bein’ a highly valued Target! You gotta learn to live with it! It was hard enough convincin’ Dumbledore and the deal’s done! I’ll show you to your private chambers after dinner... and the less people you allow to access it, the better! Only the most trustworthy! But don’t worry - it’s near enough to Gryffindor Tower for your closest friends to find you...”

**~o0o~**

Neville glanced at Harry, his face pink with embarrassment as he helped Harry lug his trunk down the stairs from the Gryffindor Third Year’s dorm, through the portrait-hole, and down the passage towards the spare teacher’s quarters which had been assigned to Harry.

“I dunno Harry,” Neville moaned after Harry told him why he was moving. “I mean... thanks for trusting me, but _**I’m**_ the one that nearly got you killed last year when everyone thought your godfather was really a mass-murderer!” 

Harry thought of the foul looks that Ron had given him just now as he’d packed his trunk, which seemed to verify the notion that the move would only confirm Ron’s worst suspicions about Harry. And then Harry considered all of the ugly looks and remarks that Ron had been giving him ever since his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. Harry angrily decided that he wasn’t going to miss those at all. 

Dean and Seamus had still been relatively civil towards Harry, but he could sense a certain level of ambivalence in them - torn between being pleased that a Gryffindor was one of the Champions and their loyalty to Ron.

“I know,” Harry reluctantly agreed. “But you didn’t do it on purpose Neville. And that’s not the sort of mistake you’d make twice. And besides, you’re a good friend - you’re the only guy in our year who really believes in me...”

Neville’s smile was a bit teary when he said goodbye and left Harry to finish settling in by himself as curfew drew nearer. Harry sighed and looked around his new surroundings. The private chambers were about the size of an average flat. It had a sitting room with a settee near the fire already crackling in the hearth, a small kitchen with a dining table in the middle of it, a little study, a single large bedroom with its own fireplace, and a gleaming spotless bathroom with a large marble tub and gold spigots.

Harry’s trepidation at having his own quarters began to ebb as a peaceful sort of feeling came over him while he cleaned his teeth and put on his pyjamas. He crawled into the four-poster bed and pulled up the covers. When his head hit his pillow, Harry suddenly realised that there was only one thing missing. 

A smile crept to Harry’s lips and the soreness of his scar receded as the potential benefits of having his own private rooms finally began to sink in.

**~o0o~**

Harry opened the door to the Room of Requirement after asking it for a place to learn how to fight in. Moody’s roaming eye took in everything approvingly.

The room reminded Harry a bit of the dojos and kwoons in the karate and kung fu films he’d seen when Sirius and Lupin had taken him and Hermione to a martial arts film festival during the summer. It even had wooden dummies, but they were far more detailed and had proper movable limbs.

One wall was mirrored, another lined with all sorts of muggle weapons; Harry supposed the room had just copied what he had seen in the martial arts films. Another wall was lined with shelves full of books - which Hermione was already eagerly perusing - and the centre of the floor was covered with a thickly padded mat.

“Bloody brilliant Potter!” exclaimed Professor Moody. “I can’t say that I have the right skill set to teach you how to use most of those weapons, but I could certainly train you with some of those blades at some point. Though you shouldn’t really need ‘em most of the time with the right spells at your fingertips - mostly just every now and then to throw off a wizard who’s expectin’ a spell when you’re in close quarters.”

“Right then, you two - fall in!” Mad Eye barked. Harry and Hermione nervously lined up at attention and Moody began.

“Now, this’ll be a fair bit different from Defence Against the Dark Arts - the focus of the class here at Hogwarts is mostly defending yourself from dark magical creatures with only a very cursory look at the spells necessary for defending against dark wizards’ curses. We’re not allowed to teach you how to actually fight back good and proper.” 

Moody muttered something about the “bloody school board” under his breath, then continued.

“In these sessions I’ll be teachin’ you both how to duel properly, and how to use combat techniques when you’re in a fight for your lives with multiple opponents - which means you’ll be learning how to do some dangerous curses yourselves. But keep payin’ attention in class, because you’ll need to know the spells to fight magical creatures for the tournament, Potter.”

“A lot o’ these lessons will be about strategy and tactics - I’ll be showing you how and when to use those spells to their greatest effect in actual practice - and I’ll also be teachin’ you some more advanced and alternative spells which the seventeen year old Champions will already know...”

Mad Eye lectured for half an hour before setting Harry and Hermione to running around the gym and performing calisthenics for another hour. He worked them like a drill sergeant and they miserably collapsed in a sweaty heap when they were finished.

“Right! I suppose that’s enough for now then,” Moody chuckled. “I want you both to be practicin’ the calisthenics on your own for an hour after classes every day. I’ll start teaching you spells and combat techniques when we meet again on Thursday, same time, and we’ll take things from there!”

Mad Eye stomped out of the Room of Requirement and left the aching young wizards moaning on the floor.

“Blimey, that was harder than I thought it would be,” Harry muttered, wiping his dripping face on his shirt.

“I’ll say,” groaned Hermione as she rolled onto her front and began to shakily push herself up. “Everything hurts...”

“Hang on then...” said Harry as he gently brushed aside the saturated ringlets plastered to Hermione’s wet cheeks with the back of his fingers. She bit her lip and nodded. 

Hermione’s pulse began to race again as Harry started to knead her shoulders. She flattened herself against the cushy mat once more and let out a little sigh of relief as his fingers pressed into the sore spots of her neck, shoulders, and upper back.

“Thank you Harry,” she murmured, feeling some of the tenseness in her muscles melting away. Harry dug his knuckle into a particularly tight knot on Hermione’s shoulder blade and she let out a small moan.

“Are you alright Hermione?” Harry paused, afraid that he’d hurt her.

“Yes!” Hermione gasped. “That feels lovely - perfect... please, don’t stop!” 

Harry grinned and continued the massage, his hands reaching the small of her back, pleased to feel Hermione relaxing under his ministrations. 

“ _Ooooh_...” Hermione moaned again and trembled as a shiver of elation flooded her senses. “ _ **That’s**_ the spot! Where did you learn how to do that Harry?”

“Er... I dunno really. I just know it feels good when I press the bits that I can reach on myself after quidditch.”

“Maybe... I could return the favour?”

“Not enough time really,” said Harry. “It’s almost time for dinner and we really should clean up and change first.”

Hermione’s breath quickened, resolve firming as Harry’s touch sent another shudder of delight through her.

“What if... if Dobby brought us dinner in your chambers?” she asked hopefully. “I haven’t even seen them yet anyway!” 

Harry swallowed nervously, suddenly not sure if he should say yes even though he wanted to, uncertain where this was leading. But the fact that Hermione had suggested asking Dobby to bring them dinner seemed significant somehow. Hermione sat up and peered at him expectantly.

“Yeah... alright Hermione!” said Harry in a slightly hoarse voice, leaning in to kiss her. “I... I’d really like that!”

**~o0o~**

Harry sighed when he looked at the clock and saw the time. It was nearly curfew and Hermione would have to go back to Gryffindor Tower. The massage that Hermione had given him had felt great, and he wished that he could just cuddle her and fall asleep in her arms. It was a lot cozier in his new bed by a warm fire than on the cold cobbled terrace at the top of the Astronomy Tower in early November.

Hermione beamed radiantly and pulled her wind-up alarm clock out of her book-bag, setting it on Harry’s bedside table. Harry looked at her in bewilderment and anxiety. A bushy ginger tail twitched, catching Harry’s eye; Crookshanks appeared to be grinning at Harry too.

“Wait... are you sure about this Hermione? I don’t want you to get into trouble. What if you’re missed and a Gryffindor prefect catches you? Or one of the Triwizard security officials? We were just lucky not to get caught the night we fell asleep at the Astronomy Tower.”

“I’m absolutely certain Harry!” said Hermione firmly with a golden gleam in her eyes. “I’ve worked it all out. That’s _**really**_ why I suggested we change into our nightclothes, not just for comfort’s sake...”

“I spoke to Lavender and Parvati when I went back for my things, and they’ll cover for me - and the other girls in my dorm don’t really care one way or another. All I need - if you’ll let me - is to borrow your invisibility cloak when I leave early in the mornings.” 

“Er... Wow!... _**Brilliant**_ Hermione! You really _**have**_ worked it all out!” Harry grinned back at Hermione, his trepidation evaporating. “Yeah... of course you can use the invisibility cloak!”

Feeling overcome with giddiness, Harry swept Hermione into a steamy kiss, his fingers tangled in her mess of golden curls. Hermione wriggled joyfully as she coiled her arms around Harry. She pressed herself against him, lit up with the flames of desire. Caresses began to travel, and Harry’s hands found themselves wrapped around Hermione’s hips. 

After a moment of eternity, their lips wetly separated and both of them gasped for air, wanting more.

The large orange ball of fur jumped off the bed and slipped out of the room to give his humans some privacy. Crookshanks made his way to the heavy oak door guarding the entrance to Harry’s chambers and was pleased to see a cat-flap magically appear, eager for his nightly prowl with Hedwig.

Harry was suddenly aware that this time there was no recourse, no outlet unless he or Hermione took the settee in the living room. Harry swallowed anxiously, suddenly realising how close Hermione was to him, her scent intoxicating. Her expression of arousal inflaming him.

“Er... Hermione... maybe I should... er... you know... get up...”

“You... you don’t have to Harry,” Hermione murmured, finally overcoming her own nervousness. “Couldn’t we... just sort of enjoy ourselves together. We don’t have to... you know... I’m not sure I’m ready for _**that**_ just yet, but... but...”

“You mean...” Harry gulped again as Hermione’s meaning became all too clear. She nodded and smiled shyly, eyelashes fluttering.

“We don’t even have to take everything off. We could just sort of... help each other?” Hermione squeaked hopefully.

“Er... alright then!” Harry gulped a third time, his eyes widening. A thrill shot through him with a surge of excitement. 

A storm of passion took them both and they lost themselves to one another, allowing themselves to venture further and explore each other more than they ever had before. 

In that blissful moment, Harry didn’t care that he was facing some of his worst of times at Hogwarts since Second Year. Harry’s last thought before he faded into oblivion was that Hermione loved him... and that was all that mattered.


	20. The Scarlet Claw

Neville was still struggling badly with Summoning Charms, and he was the only one to be assigned extra homework. Harry and Hermione did their best to coach him. But even after Hermione had corrected his pronunciation for the umpteenth time and he’d finally got it, Neville was still having problems and he was nearly in tears.

“I’ll never get this!” Neville moaned. “Maybe I really am a Squib!”

“Don’t be silly Neville,” said Hermione kindly. “Of course you’re not. You’ll get it eventually... you just need more confidence!” But the look she gave Harry suggested that she was at a loss. Neville appeared to be doing everything correctly now as far as Hermione could tell.

Harry’s brows furrowed pensively.

“Maybe... maybe something is wrong with your wand Neville,” Harry suggested. “Ron’s wand didn’t work very well in Second Year when it was broken!”

“I don’t think so,” Neville muttered, casting his eyes down. “Gran’s right... I’ll never be as good as my father. I don’t deserve his wand...”

Hermione clapped her hand to her mouth in horror; Harry’s face darkened, then his brows furrowed in thought again. Neville’s eyes widened when he realised what he had just let slip.

“Oh... no,” Neville said quickly, “she never quite says it like... like that. But... but I know she thinks it...” 

“Wait,” Harry interjected, “that’s your _**dad’s**_ wand?”

“Er... yeah! Why?” asked Neville, puzzled by the question.

“Well... er... don’t take this the wrong way, but it might just not be meant for you Neville...” Harry replied.

“What do you mean Harry?” Hermione asked.

“The wand might just be incompatible with Neville, Mr Ollivander told me that the wand chooses the wizard.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense Harry!” Hermione peered at Harry, perplexed. “How can a wand choose anything? They would have to be sentient.” 

“I dunno,” Harry admitted. “All I know for certain is what Mr Ollivander told me. I just assumed that he meant that wands have to be compatible in some way with their owners to be the most effective. We had to go through dozens of wands before he thought of the... er... the right wand for me. Didn’t you have to?”

“Not really,” Hermione replied. “I think we only tried about three or four, and I... I just really liked this wand...”

“Because the _**wand**_ ‘liked’ _**you**_ ,” said Harry, raising his eyebrows. “Look... I don’t really know how it works - I mean, Charlie’s old wand seemed to work well enough for Ron before he broke it in Second Year, but I expect Ron’s new wand works even better for him. Some wands just might not work properly at all for the wrong owner.” 

“You... you really think so Harry?” said Neville, looking hopeful for the first time.

“Yeah... I do!” Harry responded. “I reckon Mr Ollivander ought to know. I think you should try and get a new wand Neville!”

“Gran’ll never go for it though,” Neville said glumly. “She’ll just think I have to try harder...”

“Why don’t you just order one yourself? Mr Ollivander doesn’t mind making trips to Hogwarts - he did for Ron.” Harry gave Neville an encouraging look.

“Er... I... I suppose I could. I do have some allowance money...” Neville said uncertainly, glancing at Hermione.

Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully as she quietly considered things. She had to concede that what Harry had told them only made sense, given Mr Ollivander’s expertise in the matter of wands. Finally Hermione passed Neville her own wand, hoping that it would be more effective.

“Try summoning the blackboard duster, Neville,” she said.

Neville gulped and nodded. Concentrating with all his might, Neville muttered the incantation, enunciating clearly, “Accio.”

Neville was shocked when the duster leapt from the ledge of the blackboard and flopped on the floor several feet away from him. Harry grinned at him.

“That’s excellent Neville!” Hermione squeaked happily. “Just imagine what you could do with your own wand. Harry, you’re _**brilliant!**_ ” 

Hermione was so excited that she grabbed Harry and kissed him heatedly while Neville goggled and turned beet red. Hermione let go of Harry and blushed. Fortunately, the three of them were the only ones left in Professor Flitwick’s classroom. 

“Thanks Harry!” said Neville, looking much more cheerful as they departed for lunch. “I’ll see you guys in a bit... I’m going to send a letter to Ollivander’s right now!”

Harry still seemed to be about as popular as the Blast Ended Skrewts with most of the school, so he and Hermione ate lunch under a willow by the lake with Luna. After lunch, he and Hermione headed to the dungeons for Potions. Hermione bristled as they drew nearer to the Slytherins waiting outside of the classroom. 

Harry looked closer to see what had upset Hermione. He snorted and rolled his eyes. The Slytherins were all wearing badges which bore the message **Support Cedric Diggory - the REAL Hogwarts Champion** in glowing red letters.

“Like them Potter?” chortled Draco Malfoy. “That’s not all they do, look!”

Malfoy pressed the badge and it flashed bright green, changing to **POTTER STINKS**. The Slytherins roared with laughter. 

“Oh, that’s hilarious - _**really**_ witty!” Hermione snapped sarcastically. 

Ron was standing with Seamus and Dean by the wall. He started to snigger, but caught himself when Seamus and Dean raised their eyebrows at him. Ron shut-up; as much as he despised Harry at the moment, Ron didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea and think that he was on Malfoy’s side.

Malfoy looked like he was about to say something else, but thought better of it when he saw Professor Snape approaching. Snape regarded the scene coldly, narrowing his eyes when he saw the flashing badges. 

“Potter - you are excused from today’s lesson - you are wanted by Bagman and Crouch in classroom fifteen for the wand weighing and the _Daily Prophet’s_ Triwizard Champion photo shoot,” said the Potions Master. 

Harry groaned and turned pink, rubbing at his itching scar. He had known it was coming, but more publicity was the last thing in the world he wanted. Hermione shot daggers with her eyes at Ron and Malfoy, who had both snorted loudly and derisively at the mere mention of Harry’s photo-call. 

“You may as well take Granger with you,” Snape added, much to Harry and Hermione’s surprise. As they turned to leave the dungeon, they were both even more stunned to hear Snape addressing the Slytherins in the passageway. 

“Remove those badges at once,” the Potions Master snapped. “I will not tolerate distractions in my classroom.”

**~o0o~**

“Aha, there he is! The Fourth Champion - splendid!” Bagman beamed when he spotted Harry entering classroom fifteen with Hermione.

Harry felt his chest tighten when Viktor Krum and Cedric Diggory both scowled at him, and he glanced at the others in the room. Hermione squeezed his hand comfortingly. Fleur gave them both a smile.

Crouch was there as well of course, with one of the Aurors currently stationed at the castle as security for the tournament. A buxom witch with heavy makeup and brassy hair done up in stiff curls regarded Harry shrewdly through her bejeweled spectacles. Harry presumed that the wizard accompanying her was the photographer, as he was setting up a camera on a tripod. 

The brassy looking witch approached Harry slinkily, batting her eyelashes at him. Unable to help herself, a barely audible little hiss escaped Hermione’s lips and she scooted closer to Harry. 

“Well, well, the Youngest Champion,” the witch said with a breathy voice, “I’m Rita Skeeter, reporter for the _Daily Prophet_. I don’t suppose you’d mind giving us an interview for the _Daily Prophet’s_ readers, would you deary?”

Harry could feel Hermione bristling next to him, and he knew the reporter was trouble. The flash of a camera bulb went off.

“I suppose,” Harry responded stiffly. The woman glanced over at the broom closet, but seeing Hermione firmly attached to Harry’s arm, she thought better of it. Rita Skeeter’s eyes narrowed, and she sat down at a nearby desk instead.

“Lovely!” she said with a toothy grin which reminded Harry of a crocodile, “Well then, let’s get right to it shall we?” 

Skeeter pulled a notebook from her handbag and set it on the desk, her long thickly painted fingernails giving Hermione the impression of scarlet talons. A long green feather-quill emerged from the handbag and darted across the notepad, scribbling by itself.

“So Harry...”

“Mr Potter! You can call me Mr Potter. Only my friends call me Harry.”

Skeeter’s eyes narrowed even more, and her smile stiffened.

“Of course, my apologies _**Mr**_ Potter... So, how did you decide to enter the tournament, given your tender age?”

“I didn’t,” Harry replied firmly. “Someone else entered my name without my approval. But I don’t know who did it.”

Rita looked incredulous. “Come now Ha... _**Mr**_ Potter. Everyone loves a rebel. You can tell us the truth.”

“I just did,” said Harry, his blood beginning to boil. 

“And Harry’s not a liar!” snapped Hermione.

The quill darted across the page, but Harry ignored it. Rita shifted uncomfortably and decided to try another tack.

“So Mr Potter, how do you think your parents would feel about their twelve year old son participating in such a dangerous tournament? Proud? Worried? Angry?”

It was Harry’s turn to look disbelieving. He wondered if she had a dreadful research department. Or was the reporter just trying to get a rise out of him? Judging by the way Hermione’s grip tightened on his arm, he thought that perhaps it was the latter.

“I’m fourteen...” said Harry through gritted teeth.

“...And this interview is over!” interjected a very welcome, calming voice. Harry and Hermione both looked up with all too obvious relief to see Professor Dumbledore, who had just arrived with Mr Ollivander. 

“Dumbledore, how simply delightful it is to see you again,” Rita simpered, fluttering her long dark eyelashes at the headmaster.

“As enchanting as ever to see you, Ms Skeeter!” said Dumbledore warmly, his clear blue eyes twinkling, “I must say, I was thoroughly entertained by your description of me in your last article. How did you put it again? ... Ah yes, ‘obsolete dingbat’ I believe.” 

“In any case,” Dumbledore continued, giving Harry a wink, “it is time for the wand-weighing. You shall have plenty of time afterwards for photos and contriving scandalous narratives, Ms Skeeter.”

Ollivander seemed to be quite eager to examine the Champions’ wands, beginning with Fleur’s. 

“Oh my,” said the wandmaker, his bushy white eyebrows rising, “Dear me... the core appears to be...”

“An ‘air from ze ‘ead of a Veela, Oui...” Fleur began proudly. She halted suddenly, remembering her father’s warning. Fleur’s eyes darted anxiously towards Rita Skeeter and the reporter’s leering photographer. 

After Mr Ollivander concluded his examination of Fleur’s wand, he moved on to Cedric’s, and then Viktor Krum’s. Ollivander’s pale eyes lit up when Harry pulled his gleaming wand from his holster. 

“Aaaah, yes! How well I remember... Mr Potter.” 

Harry remembered all too well himself. He glanced nervously at Dumbledore and Hermione, the only two people in the world besides himself and the wandmaker who knew that his wand shared a core in common with Voldemort’s - a phoenix feather from Fawkes’ tail. Fortunately, Ollivander seemed to know better than to reveal that juicy tidbit of information to the public at large. 

But the thrilled wandmaker spent the most time examining Harry’s wand, noting the care that Harry had given to it, and remarking on the exceptional quality of the holster, which had apparently been crafted by an old colleague. Harry was very pleased to meet with Ollivander’s approval. Harry’s wand was his most important possession, and he had paid as much attention to its upkeep as he had to his Nimbus 2000 and his Firebolt.

“Splendid Mr Potter!” Ollivander exclaimed with a rapturous expression after shooting a fountain of wine from the tip. “Still in perfect condition.”

Harry let out a sigh of relief and grinned, suddenly remembering something else important.

“Mr Ollivander... er... my friend Neville - Neville Longbottom - he needs a new wand. He sent you a letter by owl earlier today, but I was wondering...”

“Say no more my dear boy!” Ollivander interjected, beaming at Harry. “I give all of my clients excellent service of course, but I am more than happy to go the extra mile for any friend of yours Mr Potter. Your friend Mr Longbottom shall have a new wand before the day is out!”

**~o0o~**

It had been two days since their first training session with Professor Moody, and the second session was just as hard and painful as the first, if not worse, despite spending half the time practicing spells. On top of the aches and pains from the rigorous calisthenics, Moody had insisted that they practice stunning each other.

“You need to know what to expect,” he growled. “The more experience you have bein’ stunned, the easier it gets to deal with the effects.”

Moody berated Harry more than once for holding back and being too soft on Hermione. Finally Mad Eye decided that they’d had enough for their first full lesson. He grimaced at the two students who lay groaning on the mat and pulled several vials of potion from a pocket in his robes.

“Down the hatch both o’ you!” Professor Moody grunted. “Pain potions, one each for now, and one each at bedtime - I got ‘em from Pomfrey. Be sure to take ‘em or she’ll have my hide! And trainin’s only gonna get harder before it gets easier when I start teachin’ you muggle hand to hand fighting.”

Mad Eye gave Harry and Hermione one last look as they swigged their first vial, then lurched out of the Room of Requirement with a snort, muttering something about “compromising the training programme” under his breath. 

Despite still being in a lot of pain as the potions started to kick in, Hermione giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Harry groaned as he got back to his feet.

“Professor Moody! I think he’s taking it easy on us...”

“Bloody Hell! Are you joking?” Harry asked as he helped Hermione stagger to her own feet. “He tried to make me stun you to oblivion...”

“And vice versa...” Hermione agreed. “But he’d be working us twice as hard, and I doubt we’d be getting any pain potions otherwise. I expect he had to adjust his training plans a bit to get Dumbledore to agree to training you and me at all, Harry. We’re younger and probably smaller than what he’s used to dealing with - normally Moody would be training Hogwarts graduates.”

Harry’s eyebrows popped up. He hadn’t considered that angle. Harry felt a sudden surge of gratitude towards Dumbledore as the pain potion really began to kick in - both for allowing Mad-Eye Moody to train him, and for keeping the battle-hardened ex-Auror from going overboard.

As much as Harry would have liked Hermione to stay in his private rooms with him every night, he knew that even with Hermione’s plans it would still be a bit risky, and they had both agreed that just a few nights a week would be best. But tonight seemed a good night for a nice cuddle, so they shuffled back to Gryffindor Tower to pick up Hermione’s things.

It wasn’t too bad in the Gryffindor common room, as most of the Gryffindors were happy enough that one of their own was a Champion, even if they did think that Harry had somehow rigged the Goblet to get himself in. And the few who _were_ cross with Harry, or jealous, knew better than to say anything out loud in front of the rest. It especially felt good to see the friends who believed in him, and Neville was positively ecstatic when Harry and Hermione appeared. 

“Thanks for telling Ollivander about me, Harry!” Neville squeaked. “My new wand is smashing! I can summon anything right to my hand now.” 

Ron looked up from his game of Exploding Snap with Seamus and Dean, scowling. An odd thought occurred to Ron when he overheard Neville thanking Harry for helping him get a new wand. But as soon as Harry caught his eye, the thought evaporated from Ron’s mind. Scowl firmly back in place, Ron returned his attention to the game. 

For a moment, Harry thought he had seen something different in Ron when he had glanced Ron’s direction - he thought he’d seen a flicker of the Ron he knew. But it was gone so quickly that Harry wondered if it was a trick of light. Harry briefly considered having another go at trying to convince Ron, but he was so bloody knackered - and Ron’s glare looked as horrid as it had for days - that Harry shook his head and decided it wasn’t worth the effort.

The lure of Hermione’s comforting soon-to-be presence in Harry’s quarters was too strong. Harry’s attention was caught by the reappearance of Hermione with her book-bag - no doubt containing her night-things and a change of clothes for the morning - as she whispered a giggly goodnight to Parvati and Lavender.

**~o0o~**

Harry wished Hermione didn’t have to leave when he heard her alarm go off. Even with the pain potions that Professor Moody had given them, they had both felt too sore to do much more than snuggle and kiss a bit. He was grateful for how well the pain potions had worked though - expecting that they would still be feeling horrible the morning after both being on the receiving end of so many stunning spells otherwise. They had both faded early after the dinner which Dobby had been thrilled to bring them.

“That tickles Harry,” Hermione giggled when Harry brushed her tawny-brown tresses aside and kissed her neck as she stirred awake, trailing his kisses until he reached her lips. “And if you keep doing that, I won’t want to leave...” she added breathlessly.

“Hmmm... That's the general idea!” said Harry with a grin. He sighed as he watched her get ready to leave before the rest of the school awoke.

“I’ll see you at breakfast Harry,” said Hermione, giving him one last kiss before departing under his invisibility cloak. 

Harry was managing to endure most meals in the Great Hall now, as he had Hermione and a phalanx of the most loyal Gryffindors surrounding him. Neville on one side, Parvati and Lavender next to Hermione, and the Twins across the table from him, Ginny nearby. And he was more glad of that than ever when Hedwig arrived, dropping the Daily Prophet in his lap. 

When Harry spotted the picture, Harry knew that things were just about to get a whole load worse - and not just for him now. Staring at Harry from the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ was his own stony visage next to Hermione’s glaring bushy head. And Rita Skeeter’s poison quill had turned Harry’s taciturn responses and silences into a load of pathetic rubbish... not to mention making Hermione’s loyalty into something disgustingly cheap and tawdry.

 

_It would appear that young Harry’s tragic past has caught up with him at Hogwarts, and spurred him to become a dangerous risk taker who is not above bending the rules to prove himself to his dead parents and recapture his past glory._

_“I suppose I get my strength from my parents,” says young Harry. “I know they’d be very proud of me if they could see me now... Yes, sometimes at night, I still cry about them, I’m not ashamed to admit it.... I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament because they’re watching over me...”_

_And apparently young Harry has found love at Hogwarts - or has he? The twelve year old orphan is frequently seen arm in arm with muggleborn witch - and older woman - Hermione Granger: a plain woman with frizzy hair and teeth like a jackrabbit._

_One can only wonder what to make of this unlikely pairing - a famous young boy trying to live up to the mythology built around his tragic past, with a plain woman of low birth and great ambition._

_Who is really the master in this relationship? Is famous young Harry Potter finding his natural pubescent instincts fulfilled and encouraged by a womanly playmate eager to flaunt her feminine assets? Or could Granger be taking advantage of young Harry’s fame and fortune to advance her own lowly status in the wizard world?_

_What must poor Harry’s parents think as they look down from their etheric perch, having given their lives in the service of the Ministry, only to see the possibility of their massive estate and business empire falling into the clutches of a Shrewd Succubus?_

 

Harry glanced at Hermione who was as white as a ghost, hand covering her mouth and tears streaming down her cheeks. As Harry stared again at the text, the sick feeling in his stomach turned into a bubbling cauldron of rage and anxiety. He looked up at the staff table where McGonagall, Flitwick, and Pomfrey were peering at their copies of the newspaper and turning violent shades of purple which would have made Uncle Vernon proud, while Moody, Snape, and Dumbledore shared dark looks, and Hagrid peered at Harry and Hermione worriedly.

There was no question about it; things were much worse now! If anything could cement people’s opinions of Harry as a tragic, lying, attention seeking pampered prince it would be this... But Harry was getting used to that! It was the scurrilous attack on Hermione’s character which had him so enraged that he couldn’t speak. 

For the first time in his life, Harry truly wished someone else besides Voldemort and Wormtail dead, but he found it wasn’t helping very much. He imagined dropping Rita Skeeter into a pit brimming with Blast Ended Skrewts. 

Harry wondered how long it would be until other students noticed the article. He didn’t have long to wait; barely a few minutes after the last owl departed, heads turned and the whispering began. Some Slytherins erupted into laughter, not even bothering to whisper.

“I’m surprised you let your pet Mudblood eat at the table Potter! When are you going to put it on a leash?” Malfoy shouted.

“No! She’s a Succubus remember. Potter’s the one on a leash,” Pansy shrieked gleefully. 

Harry’s hand flexed, twitching towards his wand as his cheeks blazed with fury.

Ron sniggered loudly, earning himself vicious glares from Parvati, Lavender, Neville, and Ginny. Unable to look Harry in the face, Dean got up with a sick expression and departed the Hall, leaving Seamus sitting with Ron by himself. Luna and Padma, who had been approaching the Gryffindor table looking concerned, frowned at Ron and the Slytherins. They briefly conferred in whispers, then Luna headed for the Staff-table.

Fred and George glanced over at the Slytherin table, eyes narrowed, then back at Ron who was still chortling.

“George?”

“Yes Fred?”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

George smirked. “Of course I am.”

Harry gave a start when he felt a hand rest gently on his shoulder. He looked up to see Dumbledore standing behind him with Luna.

“Harry, I believe that it would be in your best interests for you and Miss Granger to take the rest of the day off from classes,” Dumbledore suggested in a kind but commanding tone. 

“Perhaps spend some time away from the other pupils,” the Headmaster continued. “There is little that I can do now that the student body has unfortunately become aware of this insipid piece of propaganda, but I shall do what I can to ameliorate the damage...” 

“Miss Lovegood has proposed that I contact her father in an effort to counter some of these sickening insinuations in the pages of the _Quibbler_ , and I believe that to be a wise course of action. In the meantime, I think a visit to Madam Pomfrey is in order,” Dumbledore concluded. 

“Th...thanks Luna, Professor Dumbledore...” Harry managed to croak as he led Hermione away from the table.

Madam Pomfrey was already waiting in the Hospital Wing with several vials of calming draughts in her hands. Hermione tearfully whispered something to Madam Pomfrey.

“If you’re absolutely certain dear!” the school nurse replied. 

Hermione nodded and went behind a curtain with Madam Pomfrey. Harry had already guessed what Hermione had asked the nurse for before she returned. Hermione couldn’t look Harry in the eye when she got back. Harry put one arm around Hermione and gently stroked her wet cheek with his other hand.

“Hermione, you have _**always**_ been the prettiest, the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen,” Harry reassured her adamantly. “It’s... it’s alright that you had Pomfrey shrink your front teeth a bit if... if that’s what you really wanted anyway - but I want you to know that you _**never**_ would’ve had to do that for _**my**_ sake! I think you were _**perfect**_ just the way you were before... and... and that you’re _**perfect**_ just the way you are now.”

“Don’t you _**dare**_ listen to that horrid Skeeter Cow! ...What does she know? ...she’s just a painted clown!” Harry vehemently continued as Hermione sobbed in his arms.

“You don’t have to change a single thing for me - I _**love**_ your hair - and I love _**YOU**_ no matter what!” Harry concluded, giving Hermione tender kisses. 

Madam Pomfrey listened to Harry’s declaration from behind her office door and dabbed at her own tears with a hanky.

**~o0o~**

The next couple of days were worse for Hermione than they had ever been at Hogwarts, but Harry was pleased that Parvati, Lavender, and Luna and Ginny did their best to comfort and hug her at every opportunity. Owls had arrived the following morning with the post, dropping dozens of letters into Hermione’s porridge. Dumbledore had arrived within moments and vanished the lot of it.

“It is undoubtedly all hate mail Miss Granger,” he sighed. “There is no point in opening any of it. The professors and I shall sort through it. If there is anything of value, I shall pass it along to you later.”

The Slytherins had stepped up their campaign of harassment, regularly quoting Skeeter’s article at both of them with great delight. Harry found himself with an itchy trigger finger, desperately wanting to hex Malfoy and his gang to oblivion. 

“Want a tissue Potter? In case you start blubbering about your parents in Transfiguration?” Malfoy chortled as Crabbe and Goyle guffawed. 

“No need Draco. I’m sure the gold-digging jackrabbit will let him wipe his nose on her skirt!” sniggered Millicent Bulstrode.

“If you ask me, the Mudblood looks more like a chipmunk,” Pansy Parkinson giggled.

“Just ignore it Harry,” said Hermione, glancing worriedly at his furious features.

But Harry couldn’t ignore it. He was used to the insults against him, but putting up with some of the nastier comments made about Hermione severely strained his temper. “Gold-digging Mudblood” was among the kinder comments directed at Harry’s girlfriend. Hermione had to grab Harry’s hand more than once to stop him from hexing Draco and Pansy when he heard the words “slag” and “whore” among their choice descriptives.

And Ron appeared more determined than ever not to speak to Harry directly at all since Rita Skeeter’s article had come out, which seemed to have confirmed Ron’s belief that Harry was really enjoying all the attention. Whatever clue that Harry had briefly seen the other night which indicated that Ron might be having second thoughts about his attitude seemed to have vanished completely. 

To make matters worse, Ron was less reticent to join in laughing at the Slytherins’ nasty comments, as many students from the other Houses were also joining in. The only ray of sunshine was that Snape had caught Malfoy chucking one of the Potter Stinks badges to a bewildered Ron during Potions and given them both detention together pickling rats brains.

“I knew you’d come around eventually Weasleby,” Malfoy sneered when Ron had chortled at one of Draco’s comments. “Here, this is for you,” said Malfoy, tossing a badge in Ron’s direction.

Ron had caught the Potter Stinks badge with a look of confusion as Snape thundered down upon the both of them.

Finally, on the third morning since the _Daily Prophet_ article had come out, Owls began dropping free _Quibblers_ on every table. 

Harry’s stomach flipped when he read the _Quibbler._ He hated getting more attention, and he especially didn't like that it had revealed that Uncle Vernon (unnamed) had received two Ministry warnings for treating him badly. But Harry could see how that might make Hermione a more sympathetic character to a wizarding audience. 

Harry decided that he could live with other people knowing that his Uncle had hit him on a fairly regular basis, if it meant that they’d be nicer to Hermione. There was also a bit about Hermione’s life at Hogwarts: how she had struggled against long odds to find friendship and worked very hard to achieve her successes. 

The _Quibbler_ article went on to counter the _Prophet’s_ article by showing Harry and Hermione both to be brave and compassionate rather than rule breaking glory seekers. It mentioned that they had become good friends when Harry had saved Hermione from a Mountain Troll. And though certain details were left out, it covered Harry and Hermione’s critical role in saving Ginny Weasley and killing the Basilisk in Second Year. 

Among the other incidents covered by Mr Lovegood’s article, Madam Bones - the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Susan’s Aunt - was quoted as praising Harry and Hermione for their courageous acts during the terror attack at the Quidditch World Cup in bringing two criminals to justice. 

Finally, Mr Lovegood had somehow managed to convince the Gringotts Goblins to reveal that the Potters’ “Massive Estate” and “Business Empire” amounted to little more than a single family dwelling, one lonely vault with a tidy sum of gold, and modest dividends from sensible investments; a small fortune befitting a comfortable upper middle class lifestyle. 

Hermione couldn’t help noting with much satisfaction that there was not a single word about crumple-horned snorkacks in the entire special edition of the _Quibbler_. But there were some extremely interesting features about the darkening mood of the Wizengamot, and an editorial upbraiding the Wizengamot for sacking Cornelius Fudge. The employment of Dementors by the Ministry was also brought into question. The _Quibbler_ had apparently taken on a decidedly hard-hitting and credible political bent.

A murmur of confusion filled the Great Hall as students argued and tried to reconcile the two utterly different narratives. Many were as adamant as ever that the _Daily Prophet_ had the right of it, and many were just bewildered - not sure what to believe - but a number of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs began to look ashamed. Cho glanced across the Hall at Harry and bit her lip in consternation. 

Harry turned beet red when Neville, Parvati, Lavender, and Ginny all peered at him tearfully. Lavender opened her mouth to say something, but Hermione shook her head warningly, knowing that Harry didn’t want to talk about that. 

Fred and George glanced at Harry, and then each other with shocked expressions on their faces, as perplexed as anyone that Harry had never mentioned being beaten by his Uncle. They looked down the table at Ron, who was oblivious and uninterested in the _Quibbler_ , having just received a mysteriously unmarked package in the post.

Ron had been so thrilled to receive a parcel - even such a small one - that he didn’t bother looking to see who it had come from. He tore it open excitedly. He wasn’t sure what it was though. It seemed a bit too small to be a belt and a bit too large to be a watch. In any case, there was no watch-fob on the leather strap. Instead, it was dotted with metal studs.

As Ron puzzled over it, the leather strap wriggled in his hands and came to life. He dropped it with a gasp of fright, but the thing flew at him from the table and wrapped itself around his neck. Ron whimpered and grabbed at it, trying vainly to unbuckle it as the buckle had vanished, leaving only a solid metal ring and an unfurling chain in its place.

The other end of the chain whizzed past Seamus’s startled face and scrambled eggs spilled from his mouth. With a rattle and a loud clink, The chain met two others in the middle of the Great Hall which appeared to be attached to Slytherins. Pansy and Draco both shrieked as the chains began to tighten, dragging them away from the Slytherin table.

Ron was pulled to his feet and he staggered across the floor moaning until he found himself nose to nose with the two Slytherins. The three of them struggled, but that wasn’t the worst of it. Seconds after meeting in the middle of the Hallway, their robes and school uniforms vanished.

Pansy, Ron, and Malfoy all turned crimson in mortification as they shivered in their underwear. Fred and George collapsed on the floor howling with laughter as they watched the three of them stumbling out of the Great Hall together. Pansy continued shrieking as Ron unavoidably kept bumping into her. 

“Can I open my eyes now?” Ginny asked.

“It’s alright Ginny. They’re gone now,” Lavender said with a big grin. 

Parvati was crying from laughing so hard, and she had nearly fallen out of her own chair. Neville smirked. Hermione couldn’t help herself. She felt terribly guilty about it, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself from giggling.

“You two are dreadful...” she finally managed to admonish the Twins, but with little indication of any actual indignation. A part of her felt that this had been a long time coming. 

“Oi, we resent that!” chortled George.

“You can’t prove a thing!” said Fred nonchalantly. 

Harry grinned and shook his head at the Twins, simply glad to no longer be the centre of attention as the Hall filled with laughter. Fred raised his eyebrows questioningly at his twin; George shrugged in response. Luna and Padma giggled and waved at Harry and Hermione from across the Hall, looking rather pleased with themselves.

Harry squeezed Hermione’s hand under the table and they finished their breakfast in peace. 


	21. Enter the Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for language.

On the nice days, Harry and Hermione had taken to exercising after classes near the Black Lake instead of the Room of Requirement. But even though it was a cold November day and it was starting to rain, it still felt too glorious to hang around inside. The sting of icy raindrops striking Harry’s cheeks made him feel alive as he jogged by the lakeshore, and Hermione breathed in the beauty of the Scottish Highlands as she ran beside him.

Harry knew that it was too much to expect that he and Hermione wouldn’t still be a target of scorn by many at Hogwarts, but for today at least - and perhaps a few days ahead - the topic on the lips of most students wouldn’t be the Boy-Who-Cheated and his Personal Succubus, but the Redhead and the Slytherins who had lost their clothes at breakfast that morning. 

And with a bit of luck, perhaps between that and the _Quibbler_ article, most people would think twice before harassing Hermione so badly anymore. Harry reckoned that he could manage to bear the brunt of the insults as long as everyone left her alone. He’d had plenty of practice at it after all. 

Harry slowed his pace when he spied someone else in workout gear ahead, jogging in the opposite direction towards them. He tensed when he recognised who it was, and glanced at Hermione before coming to a stop. The figure halted in his tracks, looking more than uncomfortable himself. For a moment all that could be heard was heavy breathing and the lapping of the water at the shore - nobody said a word.

Viktor Krum awkwardly cleared his throat and tentatively reached out his hand.

“Er... Hallo...” Krum began. 

Harry wasn’t sure what to say or do; this was the first time that they had come face to face since the wand weighing, and Krum had made his displeasure with Harry quite apparent ever since Harry’s name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. It was true that Krum had barely said a single word to Harry, but Krum’s expressions had spoken volumes. 

But even if Hermione’s presence hadn’t been there as a reminder, Harry knew it would be impolite not to respond. Harry extended his own hand stiffly and grasped Krum’s.

“Er... Hi...” said Harry, unable to keep the hint of suspicion out of his voice. Krum took a deep breath, as if to steady his nerves, before speaking haltingly in a thick accent.

“Harry Potter... I... er... I vould like to apologise for my behaviour tovards you! I haff disrespected you... and for zat, I am sorry! I hope you can accept my apology.”

Harry’s eyes nearly fell out of his head and his jaw dropped as he goggled in astonishment at Krum. Dumbstruck, Harry stood there speechlessly as the rain dripped from his hair until Hermione gently nudged him.

“Er... yeah!” Harry gasped, shaking Krum’s hand properly. “Of... of course! Apology accepted... er... but if you don’t mind...”

“You vant to know why!” Krum raised his eyebrows and nodded. “I understand - I would vant to know too... I read ze _Quibbler_ article - it makes much sense - is more true than ze _Daily Prophet_. I hear your interview with zat Skeeter person - but you say nothing that is in ze _Prophet_! ... But ze _Quibbler_ , it tells of your deeds...”

“You are good person Harry Potter,” Krum continued, “and I vos rude. I did not believe you! Now I believe!” 

“Th...thanks Krum!” Harry’s face broke into a grin. “Call me Harry! And this is Hermione...”

“Your girlfriend!” Krum reddened, and gave them both an abashed looking smile. “Please, call me Viktor! ... Er... I must also say... Harry... you are very lucky man! Before I know zat Hermione has boyfriend - I almost ask for date - but now I must look elsewhere...” 

Hermione turned crimson at Viktor Krum’s frank admission, too stunned to say anything. Harry’s grin broadened; he glanced at Hermione.

“Thanks Viktor! I _**am**_ very lucky...” said Harry. “By the way, we might know someone... if you’re interested.”

“Do you mean Lavender?” squeaked the still red-faced Hermione, cringing at the sound of her own voice. Harry nodded. 

“If she is friend of yours - then she must be nice person! I think I vould be interested to meet her,” said Viktor, looking pleased and hopeful. “But... er... I vos also wondering Harry - perhaps ve could fly together sometime - I haff heard you are very good flyer!”

“Yeah!” Harry agreed quickly, still grinning. “I’d love to fly with you sometime Viktor!”

Hermione was thrilled that Harry had made a new friend. The three of them jogged by the edge of the lake together and chatted until the wind picked up and the rain began to sweep across the surface of the lake in sheets. Viktor climbed into a little boat and waved goodbye as Harry and Hermione made their way back to the castle.

They were only partway up the hill when Harry stopped under a copse of evergreens. It was still relatively dry under the dense foliage of the trees. Hermione gave Harry a puzzled look. Her heart began to race as he put his arm around her.

“See how wrong she was?” Harry murmured, gently brushing dripping strands of tawny hair from Hermione’s wet pink cheeks and planting a little kiss on her lips, “...Rita Skeeter I mean... Viktor Krum could have nearly any girl he wanted - but it was _**you**_ who caught his fancy Hermione.” 

“He obviously sees what I see...” Harry continued, gazing into Hermione’s golden eyes, “...how beautiful you are! ... inside and out! I don’t know how I got so lucky...” 

Hermione melted in Harry’s gaze and flung her arms around him, crushing his lips passionately with her own. She tingled from the tips of her toes to the top of her head in that moment of eternity, breathless when their lips parted.

“It could _**only**_ be you Harry!” said Hermione as drips of rain finally began to seep through from the upper branches of the evergreens. “Nobody else could _**ever**_ make me feel like you do! You’re my _**best friend**_... I couldn’t _**possibly**_ love anyone more than I love you!”

Their lips met again for another long burning kiss. The heat coursed through Harry, and he felt so warmed that the icy downpour seemed to turn to steam around him when they continued up the hill to the castle. 

Harry walked Hermione back to the Gryffindor common room. He stood dripping on the red and gold carpet with a big soppy grin plastered on his face as he watched Hermione head up the stairs to her dorm. Once she was out of sight, Harry turned around to leave and make his way to his own quarters, sighing happily. Seeing that Harry was free, Dean rose from the sofa by the fire where he had been sitting and chatting with Ginny.

“Hey... Harry...”

“Hunh? Wha...?” Harry was still in such a cheerful daze, it took him a moment to realise who was talking to him. “Oh, hi Dean! What’s up?”

“I just wanted to say sorry, Harry!”

“Er... what for?” Harry asked. 

“For not being more supportive of you...”

“Oh...” Harry still felt a bit perplexed. “We’re all good Dean! _**You**_ haven’t been rude to me or Hermione...”

“Maybe not,” said Dean, looking ashamed of himself, “but I didn’t stick up for you when _**others**_ were. I just wanted you to know that I never really believed that you cheated to get into the tournament Harry.”

“Thanks Dean,” Harry grinned. “But it’s alright... really! I... I know how hard it is to say anything when a friend is being a prat. I’ve been there - I can’t really hold that against anyone.” 

“Righto then...” Relief flooded through Dean and he grinned back at Harry. “Thanks for being so understanding Harry! Er... I suppose I should let you go... you look really wet.”

**~o0o~**

As the days passed, so did the storm, and the wet grounds of Hogwarts turned to ice in the bitter chill which followed. At the first opportunity, Harry grabbed his Firebolt and spent an afternoon chasing a Golden Snitch with Viktor Krum. They both caught it several times each.

Harry wasn’t all that surprised to find that a crowd had gathered to watch them when he and Viktor finally lit upon the crispy grass of the frosty quidditch pitch, most of them clearly enthralled for a chance to ogle Viktor Krum in action.

And though the snide comments about the _Daily Prophet_ article had lessened considerably since the _Quibbler_ had come out and the very public disrobing of Ron, Pansy, and Malfoy, Harry had been correct to assume that the chilly attitude of much of the school towards him wouldn’t be banished so easily.

Many clearly still gave the _Daily Prophet’s_ version of Harry more credence than the _Quibbler’s_ \- including Ron apparently, whose scowl seemed even deeper than ever when Harry spotted his face in the crowd of Krum-watchers. Still, at least nobody was harassing Hermione anymore, and that was all that really mattered to Harry.

Hermione beamed at Harry and gave him a hug when he climbed off his broom. Luna waved at him from the stands where she was sitting with Neville and Ginny, all of them bundled up against the cold. 

“You are most excellent flyer Harry,” Viktor earnestly told Harry. “Ze British team vould be lucky to haff you as their Seeker!”

“Thanks Viktor!” said Harry with a grin, flushing slightly. “Especially for the Wronski Feint pointers...” 

“I am thinking I may regret zat someday, should you ever play against me professionally!” Viktor laughed. Viktor spied Lavender working her way towards him through the crowded pitch and his face lit up. 

“By ze vay,” he said quietly to Hermione, “thank you for introducing me to your friend. I am liking her very much!”

When Harry reentered the castle with Hermione, Professor Moody pulled Harry aside. Harry swallowed nervously, wondering if the suspicious ex-Auror was going to berate him for making friends with someone from Durmstrang. Sirius had already warned Harry to be careful about Karkaroff - the Durmstrang Headmaster. But Moody seemed to have something else on his mind.

“Potter, Granger, you two should be prepared for a late night,” Moody growled. “I’ll be by your place after midnight Potter... Dress warm and have your invisibility cloak ready!” Professor Moody turned on his wooden heel and stomped away.

“I wonder what that’s all about!” Harry muttered, peering at Hermione.

“I have no idea!” Hermione shook her head, as baffled as Harry.

**~o0o~**

Draco Malfoy spat bitterly as he watched Potter and Krum showing off together from a bluff overlooking the quidditch pitch. The betrayal of the Champion from Durmstrang was the topper on some of the worst days of Draco’s time at Hogwarts.

No broom flying privileges, and any wand use outside of class promised a risk of confiscation. Draco’s father was a member of the school’s board of governors, but the rest of them had ignored his demands for leniency after their pathetic babies had whined about being frightened by Draco’s perfectly justifiable response to an insult on his family’s honour. 

On top of that, Draco was still smarting from the embarrassment of being pranked in front of the entire school the other day, and he was puzzled by Snape’s seeming change in attitude, which appeared to have become even more pronounced since Third Year. 

Last year Draco had begun to suspect that Dumbledore had ordered Snape to lay off Potter and Granger, but Snape had never given Draco detention prior to this year. Draco knew it was Potter’s fault somehow - he always had been Dumbledore’s favourite - and Snape must have been carrying out that Muggle-lover’s orders.

About the only good which had come from pickling rat brains with Weasleby was that Draco had taken the opportunity to continue pushing the blood-traitor’s buttons. Draco could at least take some satisfaction in knowing that Weasley hated Potter and Granger almost as much as he did now.

But that satisfaction wasn’t enough to make up for his humiliation. It was bad enough that Potter and the Mudblood continued to live... as long as they did, they also continued to make a mockery of the natural order. Draco was of noble blood. They should both be groveling at Draco’s feet, not upstaging him at every turn. Draco had been infuriated that Potter had somehow managed to fool the Goblet when he couldn’t manage it himself.

Learning later from his father that it was all part of another elaborate scheme to deal with Potter once and for all had been of little consolation to Draco. He was still angry that his father hadn’t revealed that crucial little piece of information about the tournament until after Draco had zapped himself trying to enter... and Potter always seemed to survive everything somehow. 

Still, Draco was looking forward to watching the First Task. If Potter didn’t die, at least he’d probably end up horribly burned or mutilated.

“Survive this Potter!” Draco muttered to himself, stalking back to the castle.

**~o0o~**

Even though he was expecting it, Harry started when someone rapped on his heavy oak door. He glanced at Hermione and took a deep breath before answering.

“Got your cloak Potter?” Professor Moody growled. Harry nodded; he had his arm around Hermione, ready to go.

“Good!” said Moody. “Throw it over both of you - keep quiet and follow me.”

Harry and Hermione did as they were told, both nervous with anticipation as they followed through the dimly lit passages of the castle to the foyer. The Auror guarding the front door nodded at Moody, but didn’t even give them a second glance, seeing only his ex-instructor from the Auror Training Programme leaving the castle for a midnight stroll. 

The grass was frozen, crunching underfoot. But only Mad Eye’s thumping loud footsteps carried through the moonlit night. Once past Hagrid’s hut, and well into the Forbidden Forest, Harry finally dared to ask a question, being careful to keep his voice low.

“So, what’s this all about Professor Moody?”

“We’re going to have a look at what you’ll be facing in the first task Potter,” Moody replied quietly.

“Isn’t that against the rules?” Hermione’s disembodied voice asked. Mad Eye snorted.

“Poppycock! Reconnaissance is all part of the game Granger. The trick is to not get caught by anyone who matters!”

Hermione didn’t really have a response to that. She frowned and stayed close to Harry, one arm around his waist as they crept carefully through the forest together under his invisibility cloak. She jumped with a start, gasping when a nearby roar shook the trees. Harry’s pulse quickened and he gulped. 

Moody stopped suddenly, whispering, “Right then, don’t say a word... Just look where I’m pointing. Whaddya see?”

It was so dark in the shadows under the canopy of the forest, that for a moment, Harry and Hermione couldn’t see a thing, but then they made out what looked like a person crouched under some bushes. Whoever it was, their attention was fully engaged on whatever was in the clearing ahead.

“That’s Karkaroff doing his boy’s work for him... Now _**that’s**_ cheatin.’ If he’d brought Krum with him, that would be _**training**_ , like I’m doing with you two.”

Mad Eye doubled back through the forest a bit with his two pupils, and then worked around a prickly thicket and a copse of oak-trees to approach the clearing from another direction. The trees shook again from another loud rumble and a flicker of orange light briefly lit up a few near the clearing. Moody stopped and pointed again - this time at two enormous shadowed figures.

“That’s Hagrid and his lady-friend, Madame Maxime,” Mad-Eye whispered, shaking his head with a low chuckle.

“Poor sap doesn’t realise he’s being had... Oh, she likes Hagrid well enough, but she’s also playin’ him so that she can get a look at what’s out here without being taken for a cheater. But again, without her student here, she’s doing all the work instead of givin’ her girl the opportunity to learn a bit about surveilling undercover.”

They watched Hagrid and Madame Maxime walking up to a fence surrounding the clearing and heard voices. Harry suddenly realised that they were actually talking to whomever was in the forest glade. 

Professor Moody gestured for Harry and Hermione to follow once more. When the trio had finally finished traipsing around more trees and foliage to find another view of the clearing they came to a halt. Hermione had to cover her mouth to stop herself from squealing in terror. Harry gasped with shock, his heart thumping loudly in his ears. This was definitely worse than a Basilisk.

Dragons!

The tableau was chaotic. There were numerous keepers and four dragons in cages, though they could only make out one properly as the others appeared to be more or less under control. A massive sinewy scaled beast at least sixty feet long reared, angrily trying to unfurl its wings as it roared and screeched, a raging inferno escaping its wide maw. 

The dragon handlers were yelling at each other, trying to stay out of reach of the dragon’s fiery outbursts of fury. They kept shooting red bolts of lightning from their wands at the dragon to little effect.

“Stunning spells,” Mad Eye grunted with a shake of his head. “As you can see, they’re not very useful against dragons. You’d need at least a dozen wizards firing stunners all at once at a dragon that size to put ‘em out - there, you can see some more dragon handlers coming to help...”

They watched as the dragon bellowed in rage, shooting another long jet of flame and scattering the handlers. Finally, after numerous stunning spells, the dragon teetered dangerously. The ground trembled with a loud boom when at least ten tons of scaly monster collapsed and hit the forest floor.

“This is the Hungarian Horntail,” a voice which Harry recognised told the enormous shadow which he knew was Hagrid.

“Charlie Weasley...” Harry whispered. 

They listened while Charlie chatted for several minutes with Hagrid, gleaning as much information as possible about the upcoming task.

...I don’t envy the one who gets the Horntail. Vicious thing! It’s the largest, deadliest dragon breed on the planet and its back end’s as dangerous as its front, look...” Charlie was saying, pointing at the deadly looking bronze spikes jutting from the dragon’s tail.

Harry sighed, knowing instinctively that this dragon was meant for him - but then a little smile tugged at his lips when a comforting thought occurred to him. He listened with Hermione and Professor Moody for a few more minutes until they heard Charlie anxiously talking about Molly Weasley.

“...I didn’t dare tell Mum what Harry’s facing for the first task. She’s already having kittens about him being in the tournament as it is...”

“Yeah... well, don’ worry yerself Charlie,” Hagrid said reassuringly. “I’m sure Harry’ll be jus’ fine. Tha’ lad’s got a good head on his shoulders - one o’ the brightest at Hogwarts, - an’ I’ll be sure ter let him know exactly what he’s... er... facin'... ” Hagrid trailed off, glancing at Madam Maxime, suddenly aware that he had perhaps revealed a bit too much.

Charlie chuckled and shook his head, certain that the Durmstrang headmaster was hiding in the bushes somewhere, watching the arrival of the dragons as well. He felt slightly better about things, knowing that the Champions would at least have a chance to prepare themselves. 

Professor Moody quietly led Harry and Hermione away from the dragons, back towards the edge of the forest. Hermione was silent, decidedly glad that Moody had thought it worth “breaking the rules” to show Harry what he would be facing. Indeed, she was fuming at the incredible indifference towards providing the champions adequate information to prepare them for their tasks. Then Hermione remembered that someone at the Ministry had apparently instigated the entire tournament with the goal of killing Harry. 

Once they were far enough away from the clearing and Moody was certain that nobody was around, he spoke again.

“So Potter, whaddya thinkin’?”

Harry grinned. He knew Moody couldn’t see his face properly, even though Moody’s eye appeared to be looking right at him through the invisibility cloak, so he gave a little chuckle as he responded, startling his terrified girlfriend.

“I’m thinking that I’ve got a good shot at this first task Professor Moody.”

Mad Eye was astonished by Harry’s nonchalance and pulled up short.

“Really?” Moody growled, “Just like that eh! What gives Potter?”

“I agree with Professor Moody, Harry,” Hermione complained with a frightened voice, “You must be joking. You have to take this seriously!”

“Runes!” Harry replied simply with a grin.

Mad Eye raised an eyebrow, wondering if the lad was crazy. Hermione couldn’t talk. She felt like someone had just punched her in the stomach. Harry felt Hermione stiffen, and he could just make out her furious features in the moonlight.

“ _ **Harry**_...” Hermione finally sputtered, on the edge of hyperventilating, “what are you on about?” 

Hermione began trembling violently and Harry swallowed guiltily when he realised how terrified and angry she was. And it was obvious that Professor Moody thought he’d gone mad. Harry sighed and knew that he’d have to explain himself with more than a one word answer. He addressed Professor Moody as he wasn’t quite able to bring himself to meet Hermione’s eyes.

“Er... According to Professor Babbling I’m brilliant at Runes,” Harry began. “We learned fire protection runes last year. And... and a few weeks ago I... er... I even beat Hermione on our homework assignment on using Runes to ward against...”

**_“...dangerous magical creatures!”_** Hermione gasped, light suddenly dawning on her. She was crestfallen at how she’d treated Harry. “I’m so sorry Harry. I shouldn’t have got cross with you. I was just so scared... I don’t know what I’d do if... if...” Hermione couldn't bring herself to complete her sentence. 

Tears trickled down Hermione’s cheeks and Harry knew that he’d made a huge mistake. He swallowed again and wiped a tear from her cheek with one hand, stroking her hair with the other.

“No, _**I’m**_ sorry Hermione! It was _**my**_ fault! I didn’t mean to frighten you. I... I was just so excited that I already knew how to deal properly with something as magical and dangerous as a dragon that I wasn’t paying attention to your feelings. I should have been clearer from the start...” 

Harry gently kissed Hermione then stopped, having the oddest feeling again that Professor Moody’s eye could see them through the invisibility cloak. He glanced at Moody anxiously, wondering if he still thought Harry was a nutter.

“Hmmm... Runes eh?” the grizzled ex-Auror muttered skeptically. “Never heard of usin’ ‘em against dragons before. I’ll speak to Professor Babbling tomorrow and see what she has to say about it. Meanwhile, get some sleep... you’ll need it!”

But neither Harry nor Hermione fell asleep easily that night. Harry still felt terrible for upsetting Hermione when she was clearly already scared to death for him. After Hermione changed into her nightie and crawled into bed, Harry held her tightly and gave her little kisses until her trembling stopped. 

When her gentle minty breath finally slowed, Harry knew Hermione had finally drifted off, and eventually joined her in slumber.

**~o0o~**

When he’d finished his breakfast, Harry glanced at the Hufflepuff table and frowned, nearly half of the Hufflepuffs were wearing those ridiculous badges. Cedric Diggory wasn’t wearing one though. Harry supposed that was something at least. Harry sighed, knowing what he had to do.

“Are you coming Harry? We don’t want to be late for Arithmancy.”

“Just a moment Hermione. I need a word with Cedric Diggory.”

Hermione frowned and bit her lip anxiously, hoping that Harry wasn’t going to get himself in trouble. 

“Oi, Diggory...” said Harry.

Cedric waved on his friends and they reluctantly headed off to class without him. Then he turned and scowled at Harry. 

“What do you want Potter? If you think that _Quibbler_ article changed anything between you and me, you thought wrong. Everyone knows that magazine is a load of rubbish!”

Harry returned Cedric’s glare. 

“Right! And everyone knows that Rita Skeeter is the Gold-Standard of Truth!” said Harry sarcastically. “You know Diggory... I’d give you a swift kick in the arse if I thought it would do you any good. But that’s not why I want to talk to you.”

“What then?” Cedric snapped.

“Dragons!” Harry replied curtly.

“What...? What are you on about Potter?” Cedric was puzzled now. “What are you playing at?”

“The first task is Dragons. Just thought you should know, seeing as you’re the only Champion that doesn’t know yet.”

Now Cedric was really confused. Was Potter having him on? Trying to trip him up?

“Get out of it Potter! Why would you tell me?” Cedric snarled.

Which was a good question. Harry wasn’t entirely sure why he was telling Cedric. The git was still obviously too bloody thick to see that Harry was an unwilling participant. Harry really didn’t like unfairness. That was all it really came down to.

“All the other Champions know already. It’s only fair!” said Harry firmly. “Though if you were a Slytherin, I’d probably let you find out the hard way. But I don’t think Professor Sprout would appreciate that - she’s a good person... Mind you, she ought to have taken you to see them firsthand herself though. They’re in the Forest - you should go and have a look for yourself.”

Cedric shot a look at Professor Sprout, who was just leaving the Staff Table with Professor Moody, and caught her eye. She didn’t seem pleased with her Champion at all. Cedric gulped. He flushed in shame as the truth of his uncouth behaviour suddenly washed over him. Cedric glanced back at Harry and with clear eyes, finally saw that he wasn’t lying.

“Dragons? Really?” Cedric said plaintively, looking really small.

Harry’s features softened. He could see that his rival had finally made a breakthrough.

“Yeah Diggory! Really!” Harry sighed, “I just don’t want to see you get killed.”

“Th...thanks Potter. I still don’t really understand why you’re being nice to me after I’ve been such a prat. But I owe you one... and... er... I’ll tell my friends to stop wearing those stupid badges.”

“Look, as long as you’re nice to Hermione and my friends.... that’s all I really care about, alright!?” Finished, Harry turned on his heel and strode back towards Hermione.

“That was really sweet of you Harry!” said Hermione, giving Harry a quick kiss on the lips. 

Harry turned a bit pink when he spotted Fleur smiling at them. He thought Fleur looked a bit nervous, and expected it was the news about the dragons.

After classes, Harry and Hermione were surprised to find Mad Eye waiting when they got to the Room of Requirement for their daily exercises. They had thought he wasn’t meeting with them again until the following day.

“I heard what you said to the Diggory boy Potter.” Moody’s magical eye bored into Harry. “That was somethin’ else. Never seen anything quite like it... except for your mum though. She’s the only other one I’ve ever seen who could dress someone down good and proper for bein’ a berk... and give ‘em a chance at the same time. It’s good to see that you can tell the difference between a bloody pompous jackass and a Death Eater...” 

Professor Moody paused before continuing, “Anyway, I’m really here about your plans for fighting dragons...”

“Yeah, about that...” Harry began as he flushed in abashment.

“You're alright Potter,” Mad Eye said gruffly, “I spoke to Professor Babbling to find out what you were on about. And you’re right. Seems like you do stand a good chance. But overconfidence kills. You can never put all your eggs in one basket Potter.”

“You always need a backup plan - or two. I’ll show you a few things tomorrow. For now, just get crackin’ on your calisthenics, and keep practicin’ your stunning and shielding spells,” Moody concluded.

**~o0o~**

When Moody met Harry and Hermione at the Room of Requirement the following day, he had already converted it into a fake dragon-fighting arena with a large cardboard box sitting in the middle. Harry glanced around at the boulders as Moody opened the lesson by discussing the alternative options for fighting dragons.

“Right then Potter! I reckon you’ll do just fine with those Runes if you’re as good as Babbling says. But you’ll need to practice the Aguamenti Charm for water just in case your fire protection rune isn’t effective. And if you get that Shield Charm perfected in time, it’ll actually protect against dragon-fire, but it has to be a bloody powerful shield - and most wizards just have to dodge the flames.

“Now some might suggest summoning your broom for extra manoeuvrability - but remember, dragons were born to fly... It’s almost impossible to outfly a dragon unless you’re the very best. It’s a great way to get yourself killed.

“I told you the other night that it’d take at least a dozen wizards firin’ simultaneous stunners to bring down a dragon, but there are exceptions to that rule. And that exception is probably the best option for someone with good aim.

“Now, in muggle myths, the hero always goes for a weak spot, but the fact is that there are no weak spots on a dragon except for the eyes and inside the mouth - the only spots on a dragon which aren’t armoured. Aiming for a dragon’s mouth with a spell is problematic for obvious reasons.

“But if you can hit a dragon in the roof of its mouth with a stunner, it’ll drop like a sack of potatoes. Same with the eyes. If you hit a dragon in the eyes when they’re open, it’ll go down with one good shot. 

“Even if you use a Conjunctivitis Curse, you’d still need to hit a dragon directly in the eyes while they’re open... and the fact is, you’re just most likely to get it good and riled up. Which is the last thing you want to do, as a blind dragon is just as dangerous as one which can see...

“So practice your aim, and you won’t need to stun Granger for that...” At this point, Professor Moody dramatically kicked open the lid of the cardboard box. Harry and Hermione both gasped at the contents.

“There’s a few hundred Snitches in this box,” Moody said with a grin. “They’re not gold mind you - just cheap knock-off’s for kids - but they work just the same, and it’s the best way to practice aiming - though they tend to explode on impact. If you can hit a Snitch with a stunner, you can hit a dragon in the roof of the mouth or the eye.

“Timing is important. After a burst of flame, it’ll take a dragon about 10 seconds before it can shoot another burst. So wait until after the first burst, then fire a stunner before it can get the next load of fuel into its jets. Again, as small and fast as Snitches are, practicin’ with those will give you the best chance.

“If I were you Potter, I’d spend at least an hour and a half a day working on what I just told you, on top o’ your hour of calisthenics. On Saturday, you can start practicing dodging techniques and cushioning charms to prevent broken limbs if you crash into a boulder.

“Now we’ve only got limited time - barely a couple o’ weeks - so this is what we’re focusin’ on. Whatever you do, don’t try transfigurin’ anything to distract it, dragons’ll always be more interested in you. Stick with the basics, and don’t try any other fancy stuff you might see in books, and you’ll get through this Potter - and as always, stay alert - **Constant Vigilance!** ” Mad Eye concluded with a roar.

Harry’s practice in the fake dragon arena in the Room of Requirement over the next couple of weeks improved his skills immensely. He had learned how to dodge, roll, and tumble. Harry had also become relatively quick with cushioning charms - but that was the one spell he felt the least confident in. He had become quite proficient with the Aguamenti Charm though.

Harry’s aim with stunners had become extremely accurate after a week of practice. And Moody had had to order another entire stock of Snitches. Harry and Hermione had also gradually increased their strength and stamina with their exercise regimen. 

Harry studied his Runework with just as much diligence while Hermione helped him translate to find the most useful combination of symbols. He practiced painting them on his skin with the magic ink while looking in a mirror which Hermione had charmed to show him an unreversed image of himself.

The last weekend before the First Task, a blizzard blew into Scotland from the North Sea. It was the first proper snow of the season. Harry and Hermione took Sunday afternoon off from training after the storm died to play in the snow with Neville and Luna, Parvati and Lavender, the Twins, Ginny, and Dean. 

They built two snowmen and the Twins animated them with charmed Top-Hats which they had invented. Harry was surprised, because he didn’t think they’d ever seen any muggle television.

“We got the idea from some muggle boys who live in the village near us one Christmas,” Fred admitted.

They all cheered the snowmen on as they wrestled and pummeled each other into powder. Following that, they had a snowball fight: Harry, Hermione, Luna, and Neville vs the Twins, Ginny, and Dean, while Lavender and Parvati watched. The Twins goggled with awe when Harry started blasting their snowballs out of the air with stunning spells.

By the time November 23 rolled around, the day before the First Task, Harry and Hermione were both convinced he was ready. Harry had decided which runes he thought would be most effective, and Hermione had agreed that it was best to prepare them the night before.

Hermione watched as Harry took off his shirt to carefully paint the runes on his skin. Harry’s slight build was even more cut than it had been when he’d been playing Quidditch. Hermione flushed and started to feel a bit warm at the rare but pleasurable sight of shirtless Harry. 

Hermione wanted Harry to go to sleep early so that he would be well rested, but Harry was too nervous. So they cuddled and shared kisses together by the crackling fire in his sitting-room with hot cups of cocoa until at last they drifted off.

**~o0o~**

Harry had tried to eat some breakfast, but found that despite his confidence in his abilities, his stomach still churned with anxiety. What if he’d made a mistake? Perhaps he should have tried a different set of runic symbols. What if the dragon attacked and he couldn’t dodge or get a shield charm up in time?

Harry was grateful that everyone had just kept quiet and left him to his thoughts that morning. He had given his Firebolt to Lavender and Parvati - just in case - and asked them to hold on to it for him in the stands nearby, where they would be sitting with Luna, Ginny, the Twins, Neville, and Dean. Harry didn’t really expect to need his broom. He hoped he wouldn’t.

Hermione curled her arm around Harry as Professor McGonagall led them through the snow to the tent where the Champions were to wait while each of them had their turn in the dragon arena. McGonagall regarded her anxious charges, looking very pale herself. 

“Professor...?” Hermione began, her lower lip quivering.

“Yes Miss Granger, you may enter with Potter,” McGonagall interjected in a slightly shrill voice, giving them both a sympathetic smile. “If Bagman or Crouch have a problem with that, they can bloody well just hang!” Professor McGonagall seemed to be straining to hold back tears. 

“Good luck Harry!” she concluded hoarsely.

When Harry entered the tent with Hermione, all eyes turned to them. Viktor Krum appeared even grumpier than usual, but he managed a sickly grin when he spotted Harry and Hermione. Viktor kicked himself for not thinking of asking Lavender to join him in the tent too. Cedric gave Harry a nod, and tried to smile, but he looked like he was about to be ill too. Fleur smiled at them both as well, but her usual radiance was muted by fear.

After what seemed like an interminable length of time, Bagman and Crouch finally arrived. Ludo was holding a purple velvet sack in his hand, looking far too cheerful for Hermione’s taste. Harry was right; there was definitely something off about him, but there was really very little she could do about it. As for Crouch, he looked as pale and shaky as the Champions himself.

Bagman held open the sack and urged the champions to each take the first item they touched. He fussed with the velvet bag as it wriggled. Fleur reached in dejectedly and pulled out an animated replica of a Welsh Green dragon, the smaller, much less dangerous cousin of the Welsh Red.

Krum scowled and thrust his hand in as Bagman tried to stop the simulacrum dragons from squirming. The Durmstrang Champion pulled out a Chinese Fireball. Having done a lot of research over the last couple of weeks, Hermione and Harry both knew that Chinese dragons, while extremely dangerous if provoked, generally held humans in great regard and were highly sentient.

Bagman held the sack much more firmly when Cedric extended his shaking hand into it and retrieved a Swedish Short-snout. They were definitely ill-tempered and dangerous creatures, but not particularly large or agile.

Finally, with a sigh of resignation, Harry reached into the bag and pulled out the one which he’d seen in the clearing with Hermione and Mad Eye: the Hungarian Horntail, the largest and deadliest of all dragons. None could compare to its size and viciousness. It was at least double the length of the Chinese Fireball, which was the second longest dragon on the planet.

Hermione’s blood began to boil, but she tried to keep her temper for Harry’s sake. Bagman caught the look in her eye and glanced away.

“Heheh!” the shifty-looking Ministry employee chuckled. “Well now that you’re all sorted, I can reveal your task. Nothing too risky mind you - you don't have to try and kill the beasts. All you have to do is grab the Golden Egg from the Dragon’s Nest...”

Hermione gasped in horror. 

“You want them to steal an egg from _**nesting female dragons?**_ ” she shrieked. “ _ **‘Nothing too risky?’**_ Are you bloody mad...?”

Ludo Bagman withered at the onslaught and backed up a few steps. He chuckled nervously again, and shared a look with Crouch.

“Well... er... the egg contains a clue as to the nature of the Second Task. That’s it then. Good luck all!” said Bagman. Ludo patted Crouch’s shoulder, and they hurriedly departed the tent before Hermione could really lay into them.

“It’s alright Hermione... I’ve got this,” Harry said quietly, much more calmly than he felt.

“I know Harry. I have utmost confidence in you!” Hermione responded firmly, cheeks still flushed. “I just hope everyone else makes it through.”

Harry had been nervous, but Hermione’s statement hit him hard. He had no real idea of the other champion’s strengths and weaknesses. He could only hope that their greater age and experience with magic would see them through this. Harry didn’t want to see anyone else get killed just because someone was trying to kill him.

“Hermione, maybe... perhaps you should go and keep an eye on things. I’ll be alright by myself while I wait my turn. You’ve got your mirror right?”

“Y...yes,” Hermione responded, already knowing what Harry was going to say. She bit her lip hard to stop herself from crying 

“Good!” said Harry quietly. “I’ve got mine too. If it looks like things are going badly - for anyone - call me and I’ll be right there and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Alright then... I love you Harry!” Hermione whispered. “Good Luck!” They kissed briefly, and Hermione tearfully exited the tent.

The clock ticked, and one by one, the champions met their beasts in turn. Harry could hear the dragons roaring and the crowd screaming, gasping, and cheering, as first Cedric, then Fleur, followed by Krum, entered the arena.

Nearly an hour and a half passed before Harry was called. He took several deep breaths to steel himself and departed the tent. The gate to the arena was only a few metres away and he strode resolutely towards it through the slush, ignoring the smug looks and smirks on most of the dragon keepers' faces. Harry knew that they were thinking he'd have to be rescued from being burnt to a crisp.

As Harry emerged from behind the boulders near the gate, the crowd went silent. Everyone watched with bated breath, keen to see how the Youngest Champion would handle the worst dragon of the lot.

Harry’s breath quickened, clouding in the biting air. The black dragon eyed him warily and hissed, steam rising from her curled lips. 

The dragon’s long sinewy body undulated and rippled as she hunched, protectively spreading her enormous scaly bat-like wings over her clutch of eggs. Harry nervously looked at her fangs. Horns protruded from the dragon’s head, and the ridges of her heavily armoured body bristled with long sharp spikes, from the end of her snout to the tip of her tail. 

Harry stood rooted to his spot and cleared his mind. Slowly, without making any sudden movements, Harry slipped off his cloak. Then, just as cautiously, he removed his blazer and his shirt while the audience collectively drew a gasp of shock. They couldn’t fathom why anyone would remove their clothing in this freezing weather.

Goosebumps rose on Harry’s bare, rune-covered torso. He stretched out his tattooed arms, open handed, so that the dragon could see that he was unarmed. And carefully, continuing to move as slowly as possible, Harry bowed to show his respect.

The dragon blinked twice, visibly relaxing. She bowed her own horned head towards Harry, and lifted a wing invitingly. Only the sound of Harry’s footsteps crunching on the frosty gravel could be heard as he steadily walked towards her. He cautiously raised his hand and pointed at the golden egg in her nest.

The dragon looked where Harry was pointing, then turned her amber slitted gaze back to Harry. She nodded, wisps of steam emerging from her flaring nostrils. With her snout she carefully nudged the foreign object out of her nest, away from her own eggs. The golden egg tumbled with an echoing clatter over the boulders and rolled to a stop at Harry’s feet. Harry bowed again in gratitude, and picked up the egg, allowing a smile to creep to his face as he gathered his clothes and exited the arena.

The entire audience was stunned, not sure what had just happened. It didn’t make any sense. Where were the flames and violence? Where was the running and the screaming?

They had expected action and a bloodbath - certainly not this.

Harry walked past the stony-faced dragon keepers and approached the tent. Only a red-headed dragon keeper who looked a bit like a younger Arthur Weasley showed any emotion. Charlie flashed a thumbs up and whispered, “Good Show Harry,” as Harry strode by grinning. 

“Thanks Charlie,” said Harry. Charlie pointed him towards the first-aid tent where the other Champions were being taken care of.

Harry began to turn blue and shivered violently as he entered the first-aid tent. He cursed himself for stupidly not remembering to add the rune to ward off the cold. His fingers were too stiff, and he fumbled his clothing, his golden egg tumbling to the floor. Madam Pomfrey rushed over to examine him and threw a blanket over Harry.

“Sit Mr Potter. Stay still, you’re going into hypothermic shock.” Madam Pomfrey rushed back to the table and shot a dark look at Professor McGonagall. “Last year Dementors, now Dragons, what else are they going to throw at the boy Minerva?”

Professor McGonagall had no answer. Madam Pomfrey darted back to Harry’s side with a steaming potion, and pushed back Harry’s forehead. Gingerly, Poppy drizzled the potion into Harry's mouth and it flowed through his chattering teeth. Gradually, a glow of warmth emanated from his stomach, spreading through his body. After a few minutes, his shivering stopped altogether and he felt much better.

“That should do it Mr Potter. You’ll be right as rain in a few more minutes,” said Madam Pomfrey with profound relief.

After he put on his clothes and strapped his wand-holster back around his waist, Harry made his way up to the stadium to find Hermione. A loud cheer rose from the crowd when they saw him arriving. He barely got to the stands when Hermione pounced on him, squealing jubilantly. Harry grinned at her, glad to be alive. Suddenly not caring what anyone else thought, Harry kissed Hermione steamily in front of everyone. 

“That was brilliant Harry!” Hermione shouted to be heard over the crowd, blushing furiously when their lips parted. “You were amazing! You were in and out in under three minutes. The next fastest was Viktor, but he was over ten minutes. Not to mention that his dragon went berserk and crushed some of her eggs - he lost a lot of points for that.”

They both turned around to watch the judges give their scores. Bagman and Crouch sat with the Headmasters. Ludo Bagman glared at Harry, who had just lost him a lot of money. Bagman really didn’t have any choice but to give Harry a top mark. It would look extremely odd and raise a lot of questions about the integrity of the process for one of the event organisers to give someone who had just completed the First Task to perfection less than a perfect score.

All of the judges appeared to feel the same way, except for Karkaroff. One by one, each judge gave him a 10, except for the silver-haired Durmstrang Headmaster who gave Harry a 7.

Harry looked around for the rest of his friends with a big grin on his face, but the only person he spotted emerging from the stands and walking over to him had freckles and red hair - otherwise looking nothing like Ginny or the Twins. 

Ron gave Harry a tentative apologetic grin. Harry’s features turned as Frosty as the Hogwarts grounds.

“I... I’m really sorry Harry! I mean it!” Ron said with as much sincerity as he could muster. “You’d have to be absolutely barking to enter yourself...”

Harry’s stomach clenched; his nostrils flared. He stared speechlessly, looking for something in Ron’s demeanor which he couldn’t find, and Ron’s ears began to turn pink. 

Harry couldn’t believe it - that after everything he’d been through and put up with, Ron would choose _**this**_ moment to make a half-arsed apology! Ron could have chosen any moment to believe Harry and apologise - a moment when Harry had _**really needed**_ his support - when he had been down and nearly everyone else hated him. 

But now that Harry was the Boy-Who-Lived again - _**now**_ was the moment Ron chose to try and be friends again?

All the anger that Harry had held in began to bubble up - the ball of fury that Harry hadn’t quite been able to put words to when Ron had finally blown his stack completely and accused Harry of being a pampered prince and a liar - it all flooded through Harry’s brain and suddenly it was clear, and he knew exactly what he wanted to say.

“Really? You’ve got to be joking Ron!” Harry said quietly, 

“You’re an arse Ron! A Bloody Selfish Arse! You think I actually _**like**_ being bloody famous because I survived when Voldemort killed my parents, and because I avoided becoming Dragon Food?” Harry’s voice began to rise, and people nearby turned to stare.

“You grew up with everything I never had Ron! Family! Friends! Three squares a day! Parents who love you! So what if you had some homemade sandwiches and second-hand clothes? At least your Mum made sure that your clothes bloody fit you! But you’ve _**always**_ been jealous of _**ME**_ haven’t you? Go on! _**Admit it!”**_ Harry shouted.

Ron hung his head in shame. He knew Harry was right, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Harry kept going.

“And look at how you always treat Hermione... That’s the _**REAL**_ pisser Ron! I managed to put up with you being jealous of me - until you called me a liar - because I sort of get it, but I’m not going to put up with you being jealous of Hermione anymore.... 

“She’s just a Bossy Know-It-All to you, and the _**only**_ time you ever really acted like you liked her was when she helped you with your bloody homework. You _**always**_ treat Hermione like rubbish! Well I’m _**over it!**_ She’s my girlfriend, and **I’M NOT HAVING IT!”** Harry thundered.

Tears began to run down Hermione’s face when she saw how worked up Harry was getting. She put her hand on his arm.

“Please Harry. It’s alright...”

“No... it’s not! It’s _**not**_ alright Hermione. I’m not going to let this bloody selfish git treat you like rubbish ever again!” Harry could see that he was upsetting Hermione though, so he turned back to Ron, and tried to bring his temper under control.

“It’s not all about you Ron. You need to fucking grow up and get over yourself!” said Harry in a more even tone. “Maybe someday we can be friends again Ron, but not today.... Not like this...” Harry's voice crumbled, and he swallowed, remembering the good bits of their friendship, a tear trickling down one cheek.

“Maybe someday...” Harry said quietly. “I don’t know why I still care about you Ron, but I do...” 

Harry turned away from Ron and gently took his girlfriend’s arm. “Come on Hermione, let’s go. I don’t feel in the mood to celebrate, or being around anyone else right now.”

Hermione gave Ron an angry glare, then turned her back on him too as she marched back to the castle with Harry.


	22. Yuletide Under the Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lemony Version of this chapter is available now in _Moments in Love: the Steamy Version_ which can be found in my Works.

Hermione was furious. This should have been a moment to celebrate. Not only had Harry survived, but beyond all expectations, he was the clear winner of the First Task. But Harry was as miserable as could be. As usual, Ron had spoiled everything; this time with an inappropriately timed, much too late, truly pathetic attempt at an apology.

Ron had been absolutely horrible to Harry for nearly a whole month. And really, looking back, there had been warning signs ever since the World Cup. Harry hadn’t really seemed to notice until after the incident with Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express, but Hermione had seen Ron’s many jealous looks at Harry during the Quidditch Final - especially when Harry and Hermione had been greeting Fudge and all of the VIP’s. 

And Hermione had felt a bit uncomfortable herself with the way Ron had looked at her at the World Cup, as if recognising that she was a girl for the first time. But Hermione hadn’t wanted to spoil things for Harry and kept it all to herself. And it had been a real strain for Hermione this term, dealing with all of Ron’s constant needling and little digs at her, not to mention his utter insensitivity to the feelings of others. 

But really, the straw that broke the camel’s back for Hermione had been Ron accusing Harry of lying, and not standing by Harry when he had needed his friends the most. 

As they made their way back to Harry’s private chambers in silence, Hermione tried her best to keep her fury in check for Harry’s sake. The fire was going strong in the hearth by the settee in Harry’s sitting room. 

Hermione made them both some cocoa in the little kitchen and found Harry lying dejectedly on the small sofa. Harry began to get up to make room for her.

“It’s alright Harry,” she said, sitting at the very end. “Lie back down - like this... There, that’s better...” Hermione gently stroked Harry’s messy black hair as he nestled his head on her lap, smiling sadly at him.

She could see how much Ron still meant to Harry - how much Harry missed him - how much it had hurt to let Ron go like that. Hermione hoped that one day Ron would grow up enough for Harry to be able to patch things up with him, but for the moment, she knew that Harry had done the right thing. Harry had enough to be getting on with. It was going to be hard enough getting through this tournament without having to deal with jealous fair-weather friends.

Harry closed his eyes as Hermione cuddled him, and gradually drifted off to sleep.

**~o0o~**

Ron sighed miserably as he watched Harry and Hermione walking away from him. He had half expected this outcome, but he had hoped for better.

Still... after seeing the dragons, it had finally occurred to Ron that if Harry hadn’t entered himself, someone might be trying to do Harry in. Under the circumstances, Ron couldn’t really blame Harry for not easily forgiving him. Bloody hell - Ron had even compared Harry to that scumbag Malfoy! Ron kicked himself for being such an idiot, wishing that he’d been able to make Harry understand that sometimes he just couldn’t help himself.

Ron caught Ginny’s glowering eye when she huffed at him as she exited the stands with Dean. Fred snorted at Ron and shook his head, muttering “pathetic” angrily under his breath as he strode away. Ron was reasonably certain that Fred was mostly cross with him because there wasn’t much point in throwing a party in the Gryffindor common room without Harry. 

George halted for a moment and raised his eyebrows at Ron, sighing, before giving him a little shrug and following after his twin. If Ron didn’t know better, he’d almost think that George was being sympathetic. Neville couldn’t look Ron in the eye when he walked past with Luna, whose expression was almost pitying.

Someone patted Ron on the shoulder. He looked around to see who it was.

“Ah... Things’ll work out eventually Ron,” said Seamus consolingly. “Leave it alone for now... Come on mate - I’ll let yeh beat me at a game of wizard chess.”

“Yeah... alright then!” Ron sighed. He gave Seamus a little half-smile, glad to at least have the company of someone who always seemed to understand him without getting all judgmental.

**~o0o~**

Harry felt much better after a nap. He heard voices, and as he woke up Harry realised that there was a cushion under his head instead of Hermione’s lap. He sat up, realising that he must have slept for several hours when he spied Hermione having tea with Parvati.

“Oh, good, you’re awake Harry!” Hermione smiled at Harry and poured him a steaming cup of tea. “Parvati was bringing back your Firebolt. I hope you don’t mind me letting her in.”

“Of course not,” said Harry, smiling back. “You’re always welcome Parvati. Where’s Lavender?” he asked before taking a sip from his teacup.

“Snogging Viktor Krum somewhere,” Parvati giggled. 

Harry grinned; he glanced at Hermione, thinking that she looked rather pleased with herself. Hermione blushed when she noticed Harry’s perceptive expression.

“Er... so what _did_ happen with Viktor and the others anyway?” Harry asked. “Is everyone alright?” He peered at Hermione anxiously.

“Everyone is fine Harry?” said Hermione quickly to put his mind at ease. “Nobody got badly hurt... Viktor just got some scrapes and bruises when he tried to escape after he used the Conjunctivitis Curse on the dragon. That’s why his dragon went berserk though - just like Professor Moody said it would - and crushed some of its own eggs.”

“Cedric got burned a bit though when he transfigured a rock into a dog,” Hermione continued, “the dragon was distracted for a moment, but then it went after him. He only _just_ managed to snatch his egg before the dragon chased him around the arena - Cedric had to hide behind some boulders until the dragon keepers subdued the dragon.... Pomfrey fixed him up though.”

“And that French girl, Fleur, she almost got burned when she put her dragon in a sort of trance,” Parvati added. “But she managed to put the fire out quickly with water from her wand. She and Krum both tied for second place. Anyway Harry... You were _**amazing!**_ That was unbelievable... How did you do that?”

Harry glanced at Hermione questioningly, assuming that she would have already told Parvati.

“I thought _you_ should be the one to tell Parvati when you woke up,” Hermione beamed at her boyfriend with pride.

“Oh... er... alright then!” Harry smiled wryly at his girlfriend before addressing Parvati. “I used a rune set which spelled out ‘Dragon Friend’... Mind you, I didn’t know for certain that it would work - I don’t think they would have if I’d had my wand in my hand.”

“ _ **That’s**_ why I took my cloak and shirt off and showed that I was totally unarmed,” Harry continued. “Then I bowed to show respect, like Hagrid taught us with hippogriffs last year. Dragons are a lot like people - many breeds are really smart - and they just want to be respected.”

Parvati frowned in puzzlement. “But why don’t all dragon handlers do that then?”

“Because most dragon keepers are like most other wizards,” Hermione began in her ‘schoolteacher’ voice, but there was also an edge of bitterness in her tone. “They see them as inferior creatures and they don’t actually treat dragons with the kindness or respect deserved by all sentient beings. They treat dragons as animals to be locked up in zoos, or as beasts of burden, or as enemies to be subdued...”

“Harry’s absolutely right,” Hermione went on, “The runes wouldn’t have worked by themselves. They only _**told**_ the dragon that Harry was a friend. If Harry hadn’t _**acted**_ like a friend - if he’d just tried to steal the egg - the dragon would have still attacked him.”

Parvati gasped in horror as the full implication of what Harry had told her sank in.

“Wait, you mean that Harry was totally unprotected then?” Parvati squeaked. “He put down his wand too?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “I did use a fire protection rune-set as well... just in case. But I was still scared to death that the dragon would just eat me.”

“I can’t _**believe**_ you did that Harry!” said Parvati. “That’s the bravest thing I’ve ever heard of! You could’ve been killed.”

**~o0o~**

Draco Malfoy couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed. Potter had approached the dragon - unarmed - and it had just _**given**_ him the egg as obediently as a dutiful puppy. Draco was very quiet as he made his way back to the Slytherin common room following the conclusion of the First Task, oblivious to the hubbub all around him.

Blaise Zabini entered the Slytherin common room and spied Draco looking lost in thought on the green sofa by the fire. He glanced at Draco’s face, which looked even pastier than usual.

“You might want to lay off Granger in the future, Draco,” said Blaise pointedly, raising his eyebrows.

Draco started, snapping out of his reverie.

“Hunh? What do you mean Blaise? Not turning into a blood-traitor are you?” he sneered.

“You should know me better than that Draco,” Zabini snorted. “Just pointing out that you probably ought to watch yourself around Potter in the future... Weren’t you paying attention?”

“Potter had a go at Weasley after he’d finished with the dragon,” Zabini continued. “I don’t think he’s going to be inclined to dole out any more second chances to people who don’t treat him or his friends right... And if he can stand up to a Dragon - _**unarmed**_ \- I don’t think he’s going to be put off by anything _**you**_ can come up with.”

Draco flushed angrily and stalked out of the common room. Zabini smirked at Draco’s consternation; he loved getting a rise out of him. It was just too easy to provoke the smarmy little coward.

Draco heaved himself onto his four-poster bed and stared at the green and silver hangings above, nostrils flaring. For the thousandth time, he wished he’d been sent to Durmstrang where they actually taught students how to perform dark magic and curses - unlike the stupid defence stuff they did at Hogwarts. It was beginning to look like he’d have to start learning the Unforgivables on his own.

**~o0o~**

The boarded up windows of the deteriorating manor did little to muffle the screams of pain from within. But it was far enough from the village of Little Hangleton, and late enough at night, that only those brave enough to pass through the abandoned and overgrown graveyard at the bottom of the hill after midnight would hear them. A wretched Rat-like man writhed in agony on the floor of a dusty cobwebbed upstairs sitting room with peeling wallpaper.

“Master... please! I beg you... It wasn’t my fault.”

“Beg a little harder Wormtail, and maybe I’ll forgive you.”

Purple lightning arced from the oozing greyish-red homunculus swaddled in black robes on the threadbare armchair, and more shrieks of torment echoed through the once stately home. The hideous dark creature tortured Wormtail three more times before letting up. It waited several minutes for the Rat’s sobbing to subside, considering its options. 

The prearranged time for Wormtail’s meeting in Hogsmeade to receive an update on the progress at Hogwarts had come and gone with no sign of Barty Crouch Junior, and the Dark Lord had grown concerned. The Dark Lord had sent Wormtail out again to glean as much information as possible, but Voldemort was most displeased with what he had learned.

“Enough, you miserable fool!” snapped the Dark Lord in a high cold tone. “Get up... Without an agent at Hogwarts I have no means to take Harry Potter’s blood for my own. Are there no others among my followers loyal enough to do my bidding?”

“My Lord,” the rodent-like man groveled, “They believe you to be dead... even Lucius... and... and my word alone will not be enough to convince them to go against Dumbledore to bring the boy to you. They follow the new Minister, and according to my sources, she has not revealed the truth of your continued existence...”

“And what of this... this _**new Minister**_... she is one of _**us**_ is she not? ...a follower of Slytherin - a Dark Witch?”

“My Lord, she _**is**_...” Wormtail replied, “but the word among the Death Eaters who remain at large is that the new Minister has her own plan to restore a Pureblood Order in Britain... At one time, before she gained power, she might have joined forces with us.” 

“But now...” continued the Rat, “now that she has the Ministry, all indications are that she means to keep it for herself. And as she intends to return the Ancient Houses to their former glory and reinstate the Old Ways, it is likely that very few shall move against her - perhaps even once your return has been made known to all.”

The Dark Lord cursed. He was not at full power and was not yet prepared to fight a war on two fronts. And now it seemed that he had nobody to bring him Potter. The Dark Lord was growing weary of residing in his muggle father’s decaying manor. He had been prepared to put up with it in order to see the competition at Hogwarts through, with the promise of Harry Potter at the end of it. But now that the promise appeared to be unlikely to be met, it might have to be done without the boy. 

And that meant that the Dark Lord would be just as vulnerable to the boy's protections - bestowed by the Ancient Magic which had been cast by the boy’s mother in her last breaths - as he had been before. Though Voldemort had to concede that some of the _**other**_ restoration rituals might prove advantageous in different ways, perhaps even giving him the power to decisively defeat the Old Fool who ran Hogwarts once and for all. 

The Dark Lord decided to bide his time a short while more, and see what might come of the Second Task. The plan might be salvaged by then - it was still possible that he might find another to do his bidding and slip them through the increased security protocols at Hogwarts - but if not, the Dark Lord should be prepared to act without further delay.

**~o0o~**

Sirius and Lupin had both been delighted and astounded to hear the details of Harry’s encounter with the dragon. Harry grinned at their astonished features in his mirror.

“That is remarkable Harry - and incredibly risky! There was no guarantee that the dragon would accept you,” said Lupin, peering over Sirius’s shoulder into the mirror. “There are very few wizards - even those well-experienced with dragons - who would have dared to attempt such a thing.”

“That’s my godson for you,” Sirius beamed proudly. Lupin raised one eyebrow at Sirius with a mirthful twitch of his moustache.

“Ahem... _**our**_ godson I mean,” Sirius amended himself, giving Harry a roguish wink; Hermione giggled. 

“I’m glad you called, Harry,” Sirius added. “Dumbledore has banned Rita Skeeter from Hogwarts, but I’m still not sure that I would have believed the _Daily Prophet’s_ reports. And if I know Skeeter, she’ll still find a way to muck things up...”

“In any case,” Lupin interjected. “Dumbledore and Mad Eye have been keeping us informed of your general progress, but Sirius and I are keen to keep an eye on things ourselves. We may come up to Hogwarts to watch over the next two tasks in person...”

Following the chat with Sirius and Lupin, Hermione finally managed to convince Harry that he should put in an appearance in the Gryffindor common room. And Harry was glad that she had, as Fred and George had forged ahead with party plans despite the unlikelihood of Harry showing up. 

Ron looked up from the game of chess he was having with Seamus, peering wistfully at the crowd of cheering Gryffindors surrounding Harry and Hermione. Unable to help feeling another pang of jealousy, Ron took a swig of his butterbeer and resignedly returned his attention to Seamus and the game.

By the time Harry and Hermione returned to his private quarters, Harry was in the best mood he’d been in for weeks. After cleaning his teeth and changing into nightclothes, Harry cheerfully tumbled into his bed with Hermione.

Burning with ardour, their kisses grew increasingly humid, lips blazing trails across each other’s necks and faces. Hermione imagined Harry shirtless again as his caresses traveled, tingling blissfully at his every touch, showering her own intimate affections upon him. Golden strands of Hermione’s tawny hair damply clung to her pink cheeks as she gasped with passionate release in Harry’s arms. 

Giddily flushing with elation, Harry fell back against his pillow panting breathlessly. Hermione lay her bushy head on Harry’s shoulder and snuggled happily under one of his arms, wondering if Harry might be ready to take things a bit further soon. 

A few minutes later, still feeling a bit dazed, but quite contented, Harry finally managed to put his thoughts of Hermione in her bikini - or less - out of his head and picked up the egg from the bedside table with his free hand. He peered at it as it glinted in the flickering orange glow of the fire in the hearth, looking for the clue again.

Except for the hinge and the furrow where the two halves met, the egg was perfectly smooth, and as golden as the highlights in Hermione’s tawny-brown hair. He had opened it at the celebration in the common room after much imploring from the excited Gryffindors, but there had been nothing inside except for a horrid loud shrieking sound which reminded him of the screeching wheels of the Hogwarts Express. 

“You’ve got plenty of time Harry,” said Hermione with a little giggle, pleased to see Harry’s eagerness. “You don’t have to work it out tonight. Even if it takes us until Christmas to figure out what the Clue is, you’ll still have two months to prepare for the next Task.”

“Yeah... I suppose you’re right Hermione,” Harry grinned. He set the gold egg down again and gave his girlfriend another gentle kiss. Tranquility settled over the pair of them as Harry and Hermione cuddled, and gradually they drifted off to sleep.

**~o0o~**

“ _Wake up Harry! **Please**... wake up!”_ sobbed Hermione.

Harry emerged from the nightmare in a cold sweat, gasping for breath, his scar on fire. Harry groaned, peering into his girlfriend’s tear-filled eyes. As bad as it was, Harry knew it would have been much worse if Hermione weren’t there. Apparently he had been thrashing around, as the bedclothes were even more tangled than when they had been snogging and messing about earlier that evening. 

“Oh thank goodness... thank goodness, finally!” Hermione wrapped herself around Harry, peppering him with kisses and stroking his messy damp hair. “It seemed to go on and on... I couldn’t wake you! It was _**him**_ again, wasn’t it? Voldemort!”

“Yeah...” Harry muttered, gasping as the throbs of pain ebbed, diminishing with every kiss, “...it was! He was really angry... torturing Wormtail. I think he’s cross because his plan to get me failed... He’s only just found out that Crouch Junior was captured...”

“...but he’s going to try again - make a new plan, isn’t he?” said Hermione worriedly.

“Yeah, I... I think so,” Harry murmured, as he tried to remember the details. “I’m not really certain what... But whatever he does, I think he’s decided to wait a bit - to see what happens with the Second Task.”

**~o0o~**

Despite his terrible nightmare - vision - whatever - and the pain during the night, Harry felt reasonably good the next morning, far better than he had during the summer when he’d dreamed about Voldemort and Wormtail killing the old man. Harry was left only with the residual itching and occasional twinge which he had grown used to since Voldemort had returned to Britain. Hermione’s presence had made all the difference in the world, and Harry had readily agreed with her that Dumbledore needed to be told at the earliest opportunity.

Harry and Hermione caught up with the headmaster at lunchtime, and Dumbledore had invited them to dine with him in his office. Dumbledore listened intently, thanking Harry profusely when he had imparted all the information that he could recall. The headmaster stroked his long silvery beard as he watched the young pair depart his office when lunch had concluded.

Albus Dumbledore poured himself another cup of Darjeeling. He squeezed in a slice of lemon and stirred in a spoonful of honey, sighing as he considered his many layered quandary. Harry had enough to be getting on with as it was, dealing with the Triwizard tournament and his increasing workload at school. The simplest solution was simply not feasible. It was more than apparent that Harry did not have time to learn Legilimency and Occlumency at the moment.

Dumbledore spent a good long while pondering his conundrum. The only thing which was clear was that Harry’s safety was paramount, and that Hermione Granger was the key to it for the immediate future. But any decision taken now in that regard would be irrevocable - there could be no going back for Harry and Miss Granger - and it would require the express permission of Hermione Granger’s mother. 

Taking some heart from Alastor’s perceptive remark the night that Harry had been chosen by the Goblet and had discovered the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw, Dumbledore glanced at Fawkes and sighed again before taking up his quill and writing a letter to Mrs Granger.

**~o0o~**

“Finnegan! Weasley! _Will you pay attention?_ ”

Professor McGonagall’s sharp voice cracked like a towel snap, startling Harry and Hermione who were reviewing their work on the guinea fowl which they had just transfigured into guinea pigs. 

Harry couldn’t help grinning when he saw that Seamus and Ron had been having a sword fight with a pair of the fake wands which had been invented by Fred and George, instead of correcting their mistakes. Ron’s guinea pig still had a beak, and Seamus’s looked as if it had been through a war-zone.

“Now that Weasley and Finnegan have kindly acted their age,” Professor McGonagall said acidly, “I have an announcement to make. The Yule Ball is approaching - a traditional part of the Triwizard tournament...”

Professor McGonagall launched into an explanation of what was to be expected. Ron’s face fell in horror when she got to the bit about wearing dress robes. Lavender giggled and Parvati valiantly tried to restrain herself from giggling as well; they both turned around to glance at Harry and Hermione when McGonagall made a pointed remark about the Champions opening up the Yule Ball with their dance partners.

Harry felt a wave of relief washing over him, thankful that he didn’t have to look for a date, followed immediately by a flood of trepidation at the knowledge that he would have to dance in front of hundreds of people. 

“Don’t worry Harry,” Hermione whispered, giving his hand a comforting squeeze when she saw him looking like a deer caught in headlights, “I promised I could teach you how to dance, and I will.”

December had begun with another blizzard, and the snow piled even deeper outside the drafty halls of Hogwarts. Nearly everyone in Fourth Year and above had signed on to stay for Christmas, as had many hopeful Third Years.

The Professors began to decorate the castle in preparation for the upcoming festivities, going all out with their guests in mind. Everlasting Icicles were hung from the bannister of the marble staircase, suits of armour were bedecked with tinsel, bows, and red Father Christmas caps. Hagrid hauled in a dozen massive pines from the forest and Flitwick decorated them with thousands of tiny primping fairies.

When she wasn’t shivering in the corridors, unused to the cold, Fleur Delacour was haughtily waving off suitors in droves. It didn’t seem to matter that she had heeded her father’s warning not to tell anyone that she was part Veela, Fleur thought crossly. All the boys seemed to be acting like she was anyway, uninterested in who she was as a person and oblivious to anything she said, with eyes only for whichever part of her anatomy caught their fancy. Fleur rather thought that Hermione Granger was very lucky to have Harry Potter as a boyfriend, who seemed to treat her kindly.

Hermione was increasingly irritated by the girls who all seemed to be hovering in the corridors giggling coquettishly whenever Harry walked by, clearly hoping to catch him alone and be the one to convince him that it was time to move on to someone new. 

She was glad that they didn’t seem to hate Harry anymore, but Hermione wasn’t certain that this was much better. Hermione wasn’t sure if they only liked Harry now because he’d successfully faced down a Hungarian Horntail, or if it was because Harry had managed to do it without his shirt on.

And Hermione wasn’t the only one who had noticed all of the positive attention that Harry was receiving from the girls at Hogwarts after winning the first round of the tournament. One afternoon, Ron and Seamus squeezed past a group of a dozen or so girls who were unabashedly ogling Harry even though Hermione was on his arm. 

Hermione caught the bitter look in Ron’s eyes when he glanced at Harry, and was certain that she heard Ron mutter something like “...of course they’re queuing up for _**him!**_ He’s just beaten a Hungarian Horntail!” to Seamus. 

Harry sighed, spotting the flush of guilt on Hermione’s cheeks.

“Don’t beat yourself up Hermione,” Harry murmured as soon as they had managed to find a quiet, clear passage. “It’s not the same thing at all...”

“But I was feeling jealous,” said Hermione in a small voice, her head hanging down. “And I shouldn’t be, because I know you’d never do anything to hurt me!”

“Exactly!” said Harry firmly, gently cupping Hermione’s chin and lifting it so he could look her directly in the eye. “And that’s why it’s _**not**_ the same - it’s **_not_** jealousy, not really... You’re not blaming _**me**_ \- it’s only natural that you’d feel cross with those girls for trying to waylay me when it’s perfectly obvious that we’re together.”

“Thank you Harry!” Hermione murmured gratefully, her heart fluttering as Harry took her in his arms and gave her a tender kiss. 

They both gave a little start and pulled apart when echoey footsteps in the corridor indicated that they were no longer alone. Spying two very disappointed looking Ravenclaw girls turning around and going back the way they had come, Harry and Hermione couldn’t help but laugh, both of them turning slightly pink. 

The weeks leading up to the Yule Ball weren’t all about dodging the girls eager to steal Hermione’s boyfriend though. There was still schoolwork to be done, and they both spent time in the library trying to find any information which might give them a clue about Harry’s Golden Egg.

Some professors like Flitwick had eased up as Christmas drew closer, even letting students play games in class during the last week before the end of term, but not all of them were so lax.

As the Skrewts were enormous and (thankfully?) too dangerous for direct contact, Care of Magical Creatures had more or less become a free period to hang out and chat with Hagrid or play in the snow for a bit. Professor Babbling had been so thrilled with Harry for showcasing the practical usefulness of Runes in the tournament that she had tried to give him a week off from homework, but she was even more impressed when Harry had insisted on keeping busy. 

McGonagall and Snape weren’t having any of that nonsense though, keeping their classes’ noses to the grindstone until the very last minute. Professor Vector was just as strict, and Professor Moody would no sooner let his classes skive off than he would wear a tutu. 

During their special sessions, Professor Moody had begun teaching Harry and Hermione a variety of explosive blasting spells, and kept them hard at work on their regular calisthenics, but had begrudgingly allowed Hermione to spend the daily exercise routines teaching Harry how to dance.

“I suppose it might come in handy when we begin hand to hand training after Christmas,” the grizzled ex-Auror grumbled. 

Harry had been extremely nervous about learning how to dance with Hermione, certain that he was going to be the only champion with two proverbial left feet. But after three lessons in the Room of Requirement’s ballroom setting with his arm around Hermione’s waist, Harry finally began to relax and enjoy himself. 

“Stop it Harry, that tickles,” the young witch giggled as Harry nuzzled her neck. “Focus on your feet and listen to the rhythm... 1, 2, 3... 1, 2, 3...”

That particular lesson came to a quick end when Harry’s lips found their way to Hermione’s. After a particularly steamy kiss, they giddily made their way to Gryffindor Tower for Hermione to collect her night things.

They arrived in the common room just in time to overhear a surly looking Ron with singed eyebrows complaining to Seamus over the smoking wreckage of a pile of Snap cards.

“...Fred’s right though, Seamus,” Ron was muttering. “All the good ones will be gone... we _should_ get a move on. We don’t want to end up with a pair of trolls!” 

“I suppose not!” Seamus sniggered.

“A pair of _**what?**_ ” snapped Ginny indignantly, glowering at Ron from the sofa where she was sitting with Dean, who was rolling his eyes at Seamus and Ron. 

Lavender shared a disgusted look with Parvati. Hermione snorted with mirth, rolled her eyes, and shook her head as she marched upstairs for her things. Harry palmed his face, wondering if Ron would ever figure out how to talk to a girl. 

“I’m glad I’m not going with either of those two thickheads,” Lavender whispered to Harry, “Viktor is really sweet.”

“What about you Parvati?” Harry asked. “Have you got a date yet?” 

“My sister introduced me to Terry Boot in Ravenclaw,” Parvati replied, reddening. “I don’t really know him, but Padma says he’s alright. After the Quibbler article came out, he supported you - which is more than I can say about that creep McLaggen...”

“Cormac McLaggen?” Harry muttered, frowning. “The fifth year bloke that hangs out with Towler?” 

“Yeah! He tried to ask us both out...” Parvati scowled, nodding. 

“I told him I was going with Viktor Krum, then he got a bit nasty when Parvati turned him down flat too,” Lavender explained.

“He didn’t touch you, did he?” asked Harry, his face darkening. Parvati shook her head, her big limpid eyes widening.

“No, and I would’ve hexed him if he had!” she replied assertively.

“Good!” said Harry, just as Hermione reappeared with her bag. Lavender and Parvati gave Hermione and Harry both a hug, whispering goodnight.

**~o0o~**

The school term had finally ended with the arrival of the Christmas Holidays. Ron was feeling very testy when Pigwidgeon eventually returned from the Burrow with Christmas cards for all of the Weasleys. Glancing at the envelopes, he saw cards for Harry and Hermione as well. Ron scowled as the tiny owl twittered and flitted around the icicle laden bannisters attracting the giggly attention of a bunch of Third Year girls.

“Look at the weeny little owl... it’s _**sooo cute!**_ ” said one of the girls.

“Oooh... it’s adorable!” said another. 

“Stupid feathery little git!” Ron hissed, running up the stairs and grabbing Pigwidgeon. “Just bring the letters to me! Don’t bloody hang around showing off!” 

Pigwidgeon hooted cheerfully, his fluffy little head poking out of Ron’s fist. The Third Year girls all looked horrified. 

“Clear off,” Ron snapped at the girls, waving the fist which held his owl and they all scurried away. Ron caught George’s expression. 

“What’s _**your**_ problem?” Ron sniped at George. 

“You know something Ron,” said George as evenly as possible, “you’re a right idiot sometimes! And I’m telling you this for your own good, out of the kindness of my heart, because it’s Christmas... and I’m not Fred! 

“It’s no wonder you can’t get a bloody date for the Yule Ball. Every single one of those Third Year girls was a potential date, and you just chased them all off. Which is probably for the best as far as _**they’re**_ concerned, mind you, given your dimwittedness and your rudeness - I wouldn’t wish you on _**any**_ girl until you grow up a bit... make that until you grow up a _**lot!**_

“I’ll let you think about that for a bit and work out why for yourself though... You won’t learn anything otherwise! But here’s a hint - it’s not actually all about the perfect opening the ‘cute’ and ‘adorable’ little feather ball gave you - it’s more or less the same reason you couldn’t hang onto your best friend... 

“Now, why don’t you give me the cards for Harry and Hermione... I’m not sure I trust you to look after them properly,” George concluded. 

Ron scowled again as he handed over the cards to George, but inwardly Ron was groaning as George’s meaning became all too clear. 

**~o0o~**

One of the nicest things about the Christmas Holidays was that curfew wasn’t as strictly enforced. Admittedly that was usually because there weren’t any prefects, head boys, head girls, and Aurors providing security for the Triwizard tournament hanging around. Still, the Aurors and Filch were the only ones to be concerned about, because the prefects really didn't care as it was Christmas.

As such, Harry couldn’t be happier that Hermione had been able to spend every night in his private quarters without having to worry about the possibility of anyone fussing her at Gryffindor Tower the next morning, no matter what time she rolled in. Christmas Eve had been the best one that he could ever remember having. 

After hanging out for part of the day playing in the snowdrifts with Luna, Neville and the rest of their friends, and spending part of the day at Gryffindor Tower, there had been a splendid Feast in the Great Hall - with the promise of an even more magnificent one preceding the Yule Ball. Then Harry and Hermione had spent the evening snuggling by his fire and drinking cocoa as Crookshanks purred on their laps, and finally messing around in his bed before falling asleep entwined in each other’s arms.

Being awoken early on Christmas morning was the last thing that Harry had expected. Spying two goggling green eyes the size of tennis balls staring at him, Harry blinked and reached for his glasses. Hermione stirred awake with a little shriek, blushing furiously and pulling covers around herself protectively even though she was wearing her nightie.

“Blimey Dobby,” Harry groaned. “What are you doing?”

“Dobby is very sorry sir,” Dobby squeaked anxiously, his own little cheeks red with embarrassment. “Dobby is only wishing Harry Potter a Merry Christmas and bringing him a present sir. Dobby is not expecting Harry Potter’s girlfriend to be in bed with him. Dobby is very sorry to be upsetting Miss Granger...”

“It’s alright Dobby,” said Hermione, her own voice sounding a bit squeaky. “I... I’m not upset, really!” she fibbed. “M...Merry Christmas Dobby!”

“Yeah... Merry Christmas Dobby!” Harry grinned, shaking his head with amusement. “Don’t worry about it. Just try and be a bit more careful in future.”

“Dobby will sir! Dobby promises!” said the house-elf earnestly. “Dobby will be going now and giving Harry Potter and Miss Granger their privacy...”

“Hang on Dobby,” Harry interjected, reaching for a small parcel wrapped in red and green paper on his nightstand. “Here’s a little present for you... Er... Sorry... it’s not much...” 

Dobby squealed gleefully as he tore through the wrapping paper, revealing a pair of purple and gold socks.

“Thank you sir! Socks are Dobby’s most favourite clothes!” the happy house-elf beamed. “How did Harry Potter know sir?”

“Er... just a guess really,” said Harry, feeling relieved that his present had been such a big hit as he unwrapped the present Dobby had given him. 

A pair of knitted socks fell out of the wrapping onto the bed cover. Hermione clapped her hand to her mouth, trying to hide her laughter. One of the socks was lime green with a pattern of gold snitches, and the other was scarlet with a pattern of gold broomsticks. Dobby wept with happiness when Harry thanked him profusely and pulled the socks on over his bare feet.

Hermione was still in a fit of giggles after Dobby departed; she kissed Harry and scrambled to the end of the bed to drag their sacks full of presents up with them.

“We’re wide awake now,” she said. “We may as well open them.”

Colourful wrapping paper, sparkling bows, and shiny ribbons began to collect around the bed as Harry and Hermione opened their presents. They were pleased to find among all the presents from others that they had both received the usual assortment of sweaters and goodies from Mrs Weasley. 

Harry was thrilled with the book Hermione had given him: _Quidditch Teams of the World, from Albania to Zaire_. Hermione pinned Harry to the bed and snogged him silly when she opened the little jewellery box containing a pair of pearl earrings which matched the necklace that he’d given her for her birthday. 

They were still kissing when a flutter of wings startled them. Crookshanks - who was curled up on a cushion by the fire - purred happily to see Hedwig arriving. Hermione reached for the envelope addressed to her with trembling hands, puzzled, as she and Harry had already opened their cards from her mother.

Inside the envelope was a card wishing Hermione a Happy New Year, and when she opened the card, an official looking document fell out along with a letter. Harry gasped as Hermione unfolded the Ministry Parchment. Hermione began to breathe rapidly and she picked up the letter looking for an explanation. Harry’s face turned crimson as he read along with her. 

_Dear Hermione,_

_Please don’t be alarmed. You will **always** have a home with me and your aunt for as long as you wish it - I love you dearly. And our home will always be open to Harry as well. If it helps, you may think of the official copy of the Declaration of Emancipation which I signed as an extra Christmas Present. _

_I signed it at the behest of Headmaster Dumbledore. He came to visit me at the beginning of December, and the poor dear was as red-faced as I’ve ever seen a man to discuss the topic. I must admit that at first I was a bit reticent, but Dumbledore assured me that of all his options for protecting Harry Potter at the moment, this was the most workable._

_I don’t quite understand all the ins and outs of the situation, but I know it has something to do with a sort of telepathic dream that Harry had about the dark wizard that killed his parents. Your closeness to Harry is apparently the only thing which will insulate him from certain ill effects of this telepathic connection._

_Your emancipation was necessary for Dumbledore to skirt certain school policies preventing the cohabitation of students of opposite genders. You will have to speak to him for greater details, but he thought it advisable for me to contact you first. I did consult with Harry’s godfather Sirius, and he assures me that Harry is free to make his own decisions, being emancipated already, but that he is in complete agreement in any case._

_I know how much you love Harry. I do too! I trust you absolutely, and know you to be as responsible as any adult - if not more-so than most. I only ask that you use caution if you engage in any intimacies, as I am much too young to become a grandmother._

_Happy Christmas_  
_Love from,_  
_Mum_

Hermione giggled nervously and peered at Harry, who was groaning and had his blazing face covered with both hands. Harry couldn’t believe that Dumbledore and Sirius had spoken to Mrs Granger about him and Hermione being “close” and engaging in “intimacies.” Harry was never going to be able to look Mrs Granger in the eye again. 

Hermione’s anxiety began to grow in leaps and bounds as she watched Harry imploding from embarrassment.

“Are... are y...you alright Harry?” she asked shakily. Hearing the fear creep into Hermione’s voice seemed to pull Harry back from the brink. Of course she would be just as nerve-wracked as him about everything. Harry didn’t want Hermione to get the wrong impression and start feeling bad.

“Er... yeah... Hermione!” he finally managed, pulling his hands away from his face. Harry gave her a shy little grin. “I’ll be fine... I swear! It... it’ll just take a bit of getting used to your mum knowing about us... er... messing around. This is brilliant... really! And... and you’ll be able to do magic outside of school whenever you want now!”

**~o0o~**

Heads turned and jaws dropped when Harry made his way down the marble staircase to the Entrance Hall with his arm around Hermione’s slender waist. Harry knew that it was because to everyone else, Hermione looked a lot less like a bushy haired bookworm, and much more like a model in her shimmering pearly evening gown. Though as far as Harry was concerned, everyone was just seeing Hermione for the first time the way he always saw her - gorgeous - and more enticing than any Veela.

Hermione’s hair was done up in a chic style, pulled to one side and only partially straightened, leaving delicate golden curls framing one side of her face and tumbling over her shoulder - which she had done because she knew Harry liked her ringlets. She wore only the barest hint of makeup, just enough to highlight her natural beauty, which was set off by the pearl necklace gracing her neck, and the pearl earrings. 

Parvati waved when she spotted them enter the Great Hall. Hermione beamed back at her, mouthing the words “thank you” for helping her style her hair. 

Malfoy was stunned when he saw Granger; he opened his mouth, trying to think of something rude to say, but Pansy punched him on the shoulder warningly. The last thing Pansy wanted was a repeat of their humiliating experience. Malfoy closed his mouth again, thinking better of it as Zabini’s words echoed in his mind.

Ron and Seamus were among the many gaping at Hermione when she entered the Great Hall. Ron recalled how nice Hermione’s figure had looked in that dress at the World Cup, but she looked too pretty to be Hermione - she’d done something to her hair - and her face looked different. He wouldn’t have recognised her at all if she weren’t attached to Harry’s arm. 

Ron’s hungry expression turned into a scowl when he saw Harry and Hermione being beckoned to the Staff-table with the other champions and sitting next to Viktor Krum and... _Lavender Brown?_

“Blimey... _**Lavender and Krum?**_ ” Ron muttered, feeling a sudden surge of anger towards his all-time favourite Quidditch player. 

Seamus appeared to be a bit taken aback as well. Like Ron, Seamus had always thought that Lavender was the prettiest Gryffindor girl in their year. Seamus had even dared to dream of plucking up the nerve to ask her to the Yule Ball before dismissing the idea out-of-hand. 

Harry felt more than a bit uncomfortable sitting at the Staff-table among the other champions and their headmasters for Christmas Dinner, taking a small amount of comfort in the fact that he was not the only one at the centre of attention. Harry’s feeling of awkwardness went up a few dozen notches when he saw Dumbledore approaching the table, and he began to redden. Hermione turned pink as well when she saw the headmaster. 

Dumbledore gave Harry a knowing wink and leaned over to murmur in his ear as he strode past him.

“Just do your best to enjoy yourself tonight, Harry,” Dumbledore said quietly, his eyes twinkling. “Any discussions about... _**things**_... that you and Miss Granger may wish to have with me, can take place whenever you’re feeling up to it. There is no rush - no rush at all!” 

Then Dumbledore turned around to greet the others who were taking their seats at the table. There was a slight edge to Ludo Bagman’s grin when he beamed at Harry before glancing away. But the biggest surprise for Harry and Hermione both, was seeing Percy Weasley taking Crouch’s place next to Bagman. 

Harry felt a sudden chill. For a moment when Harry caught Percy’s eye, he had seen a brief flicker of an expression not unlike Malfoy’s as Percy glanced at him and Hermione. Percy Weasley’s demeanor quickly shifted to one of pure smugness. 

“I’ve been promoted,” Percy said before Harry could get a word in. “I’m working directly for Minister Umbridge now as her personal assistant. Crouch was taken ill, so she sent me to replace him.”

“Er... congratulations Percy!” said Harry with a stiff smile. Hermione offered her own awkward felicitation, flushing as she remembered the fight she’d had with Percy about Winky the house-elf the last time she had seen him. 

All in all though, Harry and Hermione managed to enjoy the Christmas Feast, despite the odd bits of tension. Cedric and Cho both made small talk and chatted pleasantly to Harry and Hermione, giving Harry the distinct impression that they were both trying very hard to make up for Cedric’s previous behaviour. Viktor seemed to be a bit nervous, but it was obvious that he was very smitten with Lavender as they conversed.

Dumbledore engaged in a bit of witty banter with Igor Karkaroff, concluding with a little joke which made Harry snort with mirth and caused Percy to frown. Hermione thought Fleur seemed very uncomfortable with Roger Davies - the Ravenclaw Quidditch team captain. Harry noticed as well; Roger was too busy ogling Fleur to take in a word she was saying, and she didn’t seem happy about it at all. Fleur began making some mildly disparaging comments about the Christmas decorations at Hogwarts to draw Roger’s attention away from her bosom, to little avail. 

Finally dinner was over, and all eyes turned to the brightly lit stage and dance floor at the far end as the lights dimmed in the rest of the Hall.

“Come on Harry,” Hermione said quietly, beaming at him as she took his hand. “It’s time to dance.”

Nervously, Harry let Hermione lead him to the dancefloor as the opening band took the stage, trying to avoid looking anyone in the eye. The Weird Sisters struck up a lilting waltz, and the champions began to dance. 

Harry started to relax as other students began to join in. Dean shot Harry a thumbs up and a smirk as he waltzed by with Ginny. Luna dragged Neville from his seat, beaming radiantly at Harry and Hermione when she passed them. She giggled when Neville kept stepping on her toes and apologising.

“It’s alright Neville,” said Luna kindly, “I’m not much of a dancer either.”

Ron and Seamus hovered by the punch bowl, gawking at all the girls in evening gowns as they filed by with their dates to join the dancing. Seamus rolled his eyes when Ron kept scowling at Harry and Hermione, and Krum and Lavender. There were better things to do with their time.

“Come on mate,” Seamus snorted. “Forget about it! I’ve got a flask of Firewhiskey... Me da sent it to me in the post. Let’s go have a nip, eh!?”

That got Ron’s attention. He suddenly realised that he was wearing himself out when he should be trying to have a good time. Ron knew he only had himself to blame and that George was right, but there was nothing he could really do about it. And Seamus was right too. Ron couldn’t help feeling jealous, but he didn’t have to make things worse by moping around and letting it eat away at him. It was time to move on. Ron still had Seamus to hang out with... and Seamus had Firewhiskey! 

Seamus and Ron ambled out of the foyer of Hogwarts into the courtyard. Snow crunched underfoot, but they were both dressed warmly enough. They found a bush behind a bench which hid them from prying eyes, and leaned back against the stone wall of the castle. Seamus took a hefty swig from his flask and passed it to Ron. He grinned when Ron coughed on the burning liquid.

“Blimey!” Ron gasped, “No wonder they call it Firewhiskey!” It seemed even stronger than he recalled it being at the World Cup. 

“An’ there I thought yeh were an experienced drinker Ronny boy,” Seamus chuckled, “Here, have another. It’ll smooth out soon enough.”

As the pair of young wizards shared another sip from the flask, Hagrid and Madame Maxime plonked heavily on the stone bench with a slight cracking sound in front of the bush they were hiding behind. They both silently groaned when Hagrid began to whisper sweet nothings in Olympe’s gigantic ear. It looked like they might be awhile.

The lights had gone down over the dancefloor once it had filled. Harry was suddenly aware that it was a clear night outside the castle when he noticed the silvery moon and stars above in the Enchanted Ceiling. He had a strange sense of deja vu and grinned at Hermione as they gyrated slowly together, both dressed to the nines. Hermione bit her lip and fluttered her eyelashes shyly at Harry, feeling as if she had butterflies in her tummy. 

Harry felt much bolder in the dim light and he held Hermione closer as they moved in time to the gentle rhythm. Hermione shivered delightedly when Harry’s lips brushed against her cheek, gradually tracing a path to her own. The world fell away and time seemed to stop. Blissful peace washed over them both as they kissed, dancing under moonlit starry skies. 

Harry was startled when the lights came up as the Weird Sisters left the stage.

“Has it been a whole set already?” he asked. 

“Yes... about an hour Harry,” said Hermione. “I think the next band is going to liven things up a bit. They’re supposed to be a surprise.”

Harry was stunned when a vaguely familiar looking rock band took over the stage and the Great Hall erupted into cheers. Hermione seemed equally amazed.

“Wait... is that...? It can’t be...” Harry sputtered. “I thought they were a muggle band.”

“...Siouxsie and the Banshees!” gasped Hermione. 

“Oh come on...” said Fred, grinning as he spun by with Angelina, “looking like _**that**_ \- how could they be anything _**but**_ wizards? Loads of famous Goth and Heavy Metal bands are... 

“Course some of them are vampires and werewolves too,” chimed in George, who was dancing with Alicia Spinnet. “You should listen to Wizard radio more. It isn’t _**all**_ rubbish like Celestina Warbeck...” 

As the loud drums and screechy guitars rocked the Great Hall, Albus Dumbledore started to tap his toes and nod his head, his eyes twinkling merrily. It had been nearly two decades since he had frequented muggle nightclubs in London with his on again/off again partner Elphias, but perhaps Albus wasn’t so old after all. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at Professor McGonagall and held out his hand. Minerva pursed her lips and shook her head disapprovingly.

“ _I’ll_ take this dance, Albus,” giggled Madam Pomfrey as she took his hand instead.

Finally rising from the stone bench after a long snog, Olympe stumbled and giggled when Hagrid caught her. The two drunk boys hiding in the bushes behind them breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the two half-giants headed back to the Ballroom. 

Thankfully the magical properties of firewhiskey had protected Ron and Seamus from the freezing night. And fortunately for Ron and Seamus, they had arrived just in time to see Siouxsie and the Banshees perform.

Shortly after midnight the Yule Ball was brought to a close. Sweat dripped from Harry’s forehead as he threw back one last glass of punch. Hermione giggled, dabbing her own wet cheeks with a napkin. 

The Gryffindor Common Room filled as Fred and George’s after-party kicked into gear. Ron and Seamus were too smashed though, and staggered up the stairs to the dormitory to sleep it off. Giddily, Harry and Hermione made their way back to his quarters, waving off Fred and George’s invitation to stay.

Hermione leaned against the wall of the corridor tipsily as Harry fumbled with the lock on the door to his chambers. Suddenly realising what must have happened, Hermione thought she ought to have a little chat later with the Twins about why spiking a punch bowl intended for use by everyone was more than a bit irresponsible. But in the meantime, nobody had come to any harm, and she was feeling pleasantly tingly.

Grinning from ear to ear, Harry locked the door behind him and picked Hermione up, carrying her to the settee in the sitting room, kissing every inch of her face as she giggled madly. Harry gently lay Hermione down on the settee and flung his dress robes over an armchair before tugging off his black bow tie. Hermione’s eyes widened when Harry took off his white dress shirt and tossed that on the armchair as well.

She couldn’t help licking her lips at the sight of Harry’s bare torso, the sheen of dampness highlighting his rippling abdomen. Hermione felt hot and giddy, trapped in her ball-gown. She stood up again and began tugging at her pearlescent dress, giggling when she remembered the zipper. Hermione turned around as Harry approached. 

“Can you give me a hand please Harry?” she murmured hopefully.

Despite himself, and the heady rush of pleasure coursing through him, Harry halted suddenly, gulping, wondering how far they were going to go this time.

“Are... are you sure Hermione?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything!” Hermione said firmly, her pulse racing. 

“Al...alright then,” Harry murmured, kissing the side of Hermione’s neck as his slightly shaking fingers unzipped her dress, exposing the bare skin of her back. 

Hermione’s pearly ball-gown slid to the floor and pooled at her feet. Hermione turned around and Harry’s breath caught to see so much more of Hermione’s enchanting figure for the first time. The yearning was too strong and they fell into each other’s arms, connecting as never before, lips fervently engaged in a deep steamy kiss. 

Sensing Harry’s rising passion as one of Harry’s hands pressed into the small of her back and the other tangled in her golden locks, Hermione was so thrilled that Harry finally felt comfortable enough to take the next step that she decided not to be too hard on Fred and George about spiking the punch bowl...


	23. The Golden Moment

When Ron began to stir on Boxing Day morning, drooling into his pillow, he wondered why he was lying face down, sprawled across his bed-covers, clad only in his boxers - he always wore pyjamas - though "clad" was a generous term, as his boxers were halfway down his thighs.. And why was the wintry light streaming through his window so blinding? His head throbbed painfully as he blinked open his eyes.

As Ron groaned, the first fuzzy recollections began to form in his befogged brain, and he realised that he must have what his parents called a “hangover.” He vaguely remembered Mum warning Dad to take his hangover potion after a rather rowdy New Year’s Eve party one year, and supposed that Madam Pomfrey would have something that would help.

As he shifted to pull up his boxers, Ron felt another stab of pain in his head and spied a magazine on his pillow, opened to a page with a picture of a witch doing something exceedingly scandalous with a broomstick.

Ron heard another moan of pain and peered at the bed next to his - Harry’s old bed - to see Seamus groggily awakening, holding his own aching head. Seamus seemed to be in a similar state as Ron, draped across the bed on top of the messy covers, wearing naught but his briefs dangling from one of his ankles, and one sock. The rest of Seamus’s clothes lay scattered on the floor next to several more of the somewhat rumpled Naughty Witch magazines which Seamus usually kept hidden between his mattresses. 

Seamus groaned and blinked at Ron. They both began turning pink, glad that Dean and Neville had already left for breakfast, wondering how much their dorm-mates had seen. One of the curtains was pulled all the way across Harry's old bed, hopefully blocking the view. But neither Ron nor Seamus could remember if either of them had pulled it closed, or if Neville or Dean had. 

“Erm... Blimey Seamus!” Ron squeaked anxiously. “What happened last night? Did we... er... _you know?”_

Seamus wasn’t sure. He shuffled, cringing and blushing furiously, uncertain of himself as his own hazy memories began to tumble into place.

“I...er... I dunno mate... Ye alright Ron?” Seamus peered at his friend nervously.

As Ron strained to remember more, to his own surprise, he couldn’t recall anything which honestly struck him as unpleasant about last night. The worst bit was this bloody hangover and the embarrassment. He shrugged.

“Er...yeah! I suppose I am,” said Ron, half-smirking, “...at least I will be after Pomfrey gives me something for this bloody headache.”

Seamus grinned and let out a sigh of relief.

**~o0o~**

Hermione sighed contentedly as she snuggled closer to Harry, an arm across his bare chest. Despite everything that she had been through with poor Harry, this Christmas had turned out to be the nicest one that Hermione could ever remember having. Thankfully, Ron had apparently been too occupied to spoil things for them at the Yule Ball.

And she was thrilled with how well everything had gone for her and Harry afterwards, even though they had both been anxious. So many things could have gone wrong, but hadn’t. Hermione had heard horror stories of dreadful “first-times” from some of the other girls. 

The last thing she wanted was to put Harry off her by making him feel inadequate. Hermione had even practiced a little speech to make Harry feel better if she had experienced any pain, or for if he hadn’t been able to “perform.” She had never been happier to mentally shred prepared material as she felt Harry slumbering beside her. 

He seemed so peaceful that Hermione didn’t want to wake him and see him wincing and rubbing at his scar. And as it was Boxing Day, she didn’t see the harm in letting Harry have a nice long lie-in. But despite her best efforts to quietly cuddle him as he slept, Harry began to stir. 

Harry’s eyes snapped open wide, suddenly aware that he wasn’t simply having the most wonderful dream of his life. Every kiss, every caress - and more - from the night before, vividly replaying in his dreams, made very real by the waking presence of the naked girl wrapped around him. 

Hermione heard Harry gasp; she felt his quickening breath and racing pulse. Her bushy head popped up instantly, eyes wide open with alarm as she peered at Harry’s panic-stricken features.

“Harry, are you alright? Is it your scar?” she asked, almost hopefully.

“Y...you’re n...not w...wearing anything...” Harry stammered, his eyes unavoidably drawn to Hermione's bare chest. 

Hermione’s heart fell as she quickly tried to unshred the bits of her prepared speech which might be relevant to a panicking Harry. Harry’s anxiety began to increase when Hermione didn’t immediately respond. Speechless Hermione usually wasn’t a good thing.

“Hermione... did we really... er... _**you know...?**_ ” he asked, fairly certain that they had. Hermione smiled, nervously biting her lower lip and nodding vigorously. 

Okay, so it really wasn’t a dream, and Hermione was still here, not off crying in the girls bathroom or weeping on Lavender’s or Parvati’s shoulder. That was good, wasn’t it? Except for the fact that she looked a bit upset and seemed momentarily incapable of talking.

“Er... was... was it alright then? I... I didn’t m...make you do anything you d...didn’t want to, did I?” Harry asked a bit squeakily.

Hermione’s head jerked as she tried to answer both questions at once. It quickly became apparent that nodding and shaking her head was just perplexing Harry even more. A sudden inappropriate urge to laugh was added to Hermione’s own roiling cauldron of feelings when it struck her that Harry might only be upset wondering if he’d done something wrong or hurt her in some way.

“It was brilliant... amazing...!” she gasped, suddenly finding her voice as she beamed radiantly. “ _ **You**_ were brilliant Harry!” Hermione clarified, kissing him wetly to prove that she meant it. 

“I had a lovely time,” she whispered, a golden glimmer in her eyes, “Best Christmas Present _**Ever...!**_ ”

Harry slumped back against his pillow with relief written all over his face; secure in the fact that Hermione still loved him.

“Me too...” said Harry with a soppy grin as he pulled Hermione closer and heatedly returned her kiss, fingers tangled in her untamed tawny-gold coils of hair. “I love you Hermione...”

**~o0o~**

Harry didn’t know how it was possible, but he felt all at once soaring and giddy, dazed and yet alert. As he entered the Great Hall for breakfast hand in hand with Hermione, the one thing Harry didn’t feel was pain. He could still sense Voldemort out there, but for the moment at least, his scar didn’t hurt at all.

Luna and Neville waved from the Ravenclaw table across the Hall. As they both waved back, Harry and Hermione caught the eye of Fleur Delacour, who was sitting with a little girl of about eight or nine who looked a lot like her. Fleur seemed much happier than she had during the Yule Ball, giggling and hugging the younger girl when the girl gaped at Harry and whispered something in Fleur’s ear. 

“That might be her sister,” said Hermione after returning Fleur’s and the little girl’s smiles. “Maybe she came to visit Fleur for the Christmas Holidays.”

Harry nodded as he and Hermione took seats next to Parvati. Dean and Ginny appeared to have finished breakfast and left already. Harry spotted Ron and Seamus voraciously digging into their eggs and bacon as if it were all going to vanish at any moment. Ron saw Harry looking and gave him a lopsided grin.

Hermione and Harry were rather famished themselves, and truth be told, both eager to finish their own breakfasts as quickly as possible.

Cho whispered in Cedric’s ear when she finally noticed Harry and Hermione at the Gryffindor table. Cedric pushed his chair back and started to get up, then sat back down in disappointment when he realised that Harry and Hermione were leaving already, in the company of Professor Dumbledore. Cedric supposed he would just have to try and catch Harry later.

**~o0o~**

Dumbledore’s clear blue eyes twinkled warmly as Harry took a seat in the chintz armchair, and Hermione took the one next to him. Keenly aware of the two students’ reason for being in his office, the headmaster’s cheeks turned slightly pink. Harry’s own features flushed as he thought about the “intimacy” which he had engaged in last night with Hermione, and was unable to meet Dumbledore’s gaze. Hermione seemed similarly afflicted, eyelashes fluttering downward as she bit her lip.

The headmaster took a deep breath to steel himself, no less anxious than his students to discuss a subject that would inevitably touch upon a topic which was usually left to the teenagers at Hogwarts and their parents to sort out for themselves. The fact that the teens in question were now both legally adults didn’t make things any easier.

“Thank you for coming Harry, Miss Granger,” said Dumbledore finally after breaking the awkward silence. “First, to Miss Granger, I must apologise. It must have been a bit of a shock no doubt, to receive notice of your emancipation without warning. It was my hope that being aware of the privileges of adulthood bestowed upon you would ameliorate some of the emotional turmoil associated with the sudden announcement.

“And I must apologise to you both for speaking with Miss Granger’s mother and Harry’s godfather without first consulting either of you. I know it must seem an incredible violation of privacy... Under normal circumstances such matters are only discussed with parents and guardians when intimate behaviour among students interferes with their education and the operation of this school, or in regards to acts involving lack of consent.

“My only excuse for not first approaching you both, was that I felt it necessary to allow your relationship to continue flourishing naturally without interference - without being pushed one way or another. I did not wish either of you to feel coerced into an arrangement that neither of you might be comfortable with.

“And it was _in part_ to that end, that I deemed it necessary to ask your mother to grant you the right to make your own decisions in that regard, Miss Granger...”

“Mum said it had something to do with ‘cohabitation,’ Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione interjected, “...and Harry’s nightmare... But I don’t quite understand how they’re related.”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore sighed, his face growing even redder as he considered how best to word things. “To begin with, I must confess that I finally determined to approach your mother because it appeared to me that things between you and Harry had _**already**_ reached, or were at least very near, the... er... right stage of development.”

Harry scrunched up his face in embarrassment. Hermione took Harry’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, her own features scarlet. 

“It had been quite apparent since at least the end of your First Year that you had both formed a close attachment - becoming ‘best friends’ if you will,” the headmaster continued. “And I daresay that over the course of your Second and Third Years, it became apparent to the most perceptive that your relationship was growing even closer with leaps and bounds... 

“In fact, it seemed quite likely to myself that said relationship was instrumental in fueling two of the most powerful Corporeal Patronuses ever witnessed in the historical record. Not to mention that it is _highly_ improbable that Harry or yourself would have been able to produce _**any**_ sort of Patronus at your ages otherwise - especially Harry considering his regrettable circumstances - for which I bear no small amount of responsibility.

“Indeed... no words can make up for your many years of suffering Harry. I am profoundly sorry for neglecting you for so long at the Dursleys - for believing that your aunt would treat you with a measure of kindness and protect you - for believing that you were safe from harm, and for not personally looking in on you myself in all that time to check on your well-being. 

“That was truly unforgivable of me. I...” the Headmaster’s voice broke, and he tried to compose himself again as a tear glinted in the corner of his eye, “I have no excuse for my behaviour in that regard.” 

“Sir, it’s alright, really...” Harry interrupted quickly, not wishing to dwell on how badly he’d been mistreated by the Dursleys, and shaken by Dumbledore’s distress. “I know you had something to do with fixing that situation and getting me emancipated so that I could look after myself with magic if necessary... _Please_ \- I don’t care about that anymore...”

“Thank you Harry...” The tear in the corner of Dumbledore’s eye broke free and trickled down his cheek. “That is very kind of you to say. You are truly more gracious than I deserve... 

“Very well then, to continue: As I was saying... I would not have interfered with the natural growth of your young relationship, nor discussed it with Mrs Granger at all, had you not brought your so-called ‘nightmares’ regarding Voldemort and Wormtail to me - the one you had during the summer, and your most recent one...

“The nature of the connection which Voldemort established by inadvertently leaving a piece of his soul attached to yours has become even clearer to me. And as we have already discussed, it is this connection which causes you pain when Voldemort or his horcruxes are near you, and which has given you access to his parseltongue ability.

“What was less clear until now, was how much access that connection has granted you to Voldemort’s own consciousness. I believe it is this unprecedented access which allows you to feel what he feels - and to see what he sees - even at great distances.

“This is highly problematic for reasons I will explain momentarily Harry, yet neither of us can deny that we have also benefited greatly from this connection and the knowledge provided by it. Without it, we would both still be in the dark about Voldemort’s movements. 

“It is thanks to you that we have been made aware of Voldemort’s return to Britain, and of his plans to restore himself and come after you yet again in an effort to clear his path to taking power, and to seek retribution for his previous defeats. And yet, there is a potential problem...”

Harry and Hermione both glanced at each other, eyes widening as an epiphany struck them both like a bolt of lightning from the blue.

“Voldemort!” Harry gasped, “ _ **He**_ might be able to use the connection too - to see what _**I’m**_ thinking...”

“...and he might be able to use that connection to manipulate you Harry,” Hermione squeaked anxiously. “But then why...?”

“Why has Voldemort not used this connection thusly so far?” Dumbledore nodded. “An excellent question Miss Granger. And it is the answer to that question which led me to eventually concede the need for you to be able to determine your own future without the sorts of constraints generally placed on those your age.

“It is my contention that Voldemort has not discovered this connection thus far, for the same reason that he has apparently not detected the destruction of his horcruxes. Simply put, Voldemort’s soul is too damaged for the level of self-awareness necessary to sense said destruction... Likewise, Voldemort is as yet unaware of Harry’s largely passive receival of his thoughts and emotions.

“However, as Harry’s excursions into Voldemort’s mind become more active, and occur with greater frequency, it is inevitable that Voldemort will eventually discover the connection and attempt to use it to his advantage. Under the best of circumstances, I would simply have Harry begin to learn Occlumency to block his mind from Voldemort, and Legilimency to sharpen his own perception of Voldemort’s mind... 

“Unfortunately, Legilimency and Occlumency are very time-consuming, and are quite a complex field of study. Due to Harry’s need to keep his focus on training for the Triwizard tournament, it is simply not feasible for Harry to begin extensive training in what muggles call ‘telepathy’...

“But, there _is_ one other thing which I believe has contributed greatly to preventing Voldemort’s discovery of the connection thus far, and which can hamper it for the foreseeable future. It is related to the reason that the sacrifice of Harry’s mother imbued Harry with certain protections. Self-sacrifice is a supreme act of Love - it is not the _**only**_ act of Love which produces such a potent magical protection, but it is certainly one of them. 

“Certainly, the active, _**Creative**_ \- dare I say _**life affirming**_ \- principles of Love are equally powerful... To give rise to new life - to _**live**_ for someone - are as powerfully magical as to die in someone’s stead... 

“In the case of Harry’s connection to Voldemort, the potential for Love to protect Harry’s mind from detection and invasion by Voldemort is twofold. One is due to the fact that Love is the power of which Voldemort knows _**nothing!**_ Simply put, he cannot abide its presence, and it is destructive to him. 

“The other, is that when Harry’s focus is on the love that he shares with his family, with his friends, and especially with those which he shares something even _more_ sublime - that which he shares with _**you**_ , Miss Granger - that focus is a Natural Block against the ability of others to invade Harry’s mind.

“ _ **That**_ is why Harry experiences far less pain and suffering from his connection to Voldemort when he is with _**you**_ , Miss Granger! Every... erm... intimate moment - every _moment of love_ \- shared between you and Harry provides him with a natural immunity which keeps Voldemort at bay... and I have come to believe that one day that love you share together, will be the key to discovering a means of destroying the piece of Voldemort’s soul within Harry without killing Harry himself.”

Harry frowned pensively as something else occurred to him. “But don’t we _**need**_ that connection sir? ... to keep informed about Voldemort’s plans, and maybe find out if he’s made any more horcruxes, and to hunt them down...?”

“That would appear to be the case Harry,” Dumbledore admitted sadly. “I am afraid that it is the most convenient means we have available to us of locating and defeating Voldemort’s horcruxes, and Voldemort himself...”

“Then I need to keep that piece within me as long as possible, until Voldemort is finished!” Harry asserted firmly, “I can put up with it hurting in the meantime...”

“And as long as _**I’m**_ with Harry, if it means that it won’t be so awful for him, and that he’ll have better control over that connection, I’ll do wh...whatever I have to do...” said Hermione with crimson cheeks and a spark of conviction in her eyes.

“...then when we’ve got rid of the rest of his horcruxes and done him in - whatever form he’s in - _**then**_ we can try and get rid of the last piece of Voldemort’s soul in me... and finish him for good!” Harry interjected. “I’ll do whatever it takes to stop him from coming back...” 

Harry trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud, knowing that it would only upset Hermione, but in that moment, Harry knew that he would die for her if he had to.

A tear trickled down one of Albus Dumbledore’s cheeks; he felt both proud of and humbled by young Harry Potter and Hermione Granger - whose bravery and wisdom outstripped that of most wizards many times their own age. They were more than willing to do anything it took to help put an end to the most dangerous Dark wizard in many generations, even at the expense of themselves if necessary. But Dumbledore knew he couldn’t let it end there. 

“I am so sorry,” Dumbledore said in a creaky voice, “...sorry that you have both been forced by circumstances to assume the responsibilities of adulthood so young. But whatever occurs... it is my determination that you _**must**_ survive Harry! ...you and Miss Granger both! I believe now - that with the advantage your connection provides us - Voldemort’s eventual demise is a foregone conclusion...

“But evil never truly dies, and - as I know you are both aware - a new threat is emerging which could affect Miss Granger a great deal - a threat perhaps even more dangerous than Voldemort because it remains hidden behind deception and the mask of moderation within the Halls of Power. Such a threat could attain more than even Voldemort - who is ultimately more concerned with his own personal aggrandizement than a stable Pureblood Order - could possibly hope to achieve through brute force alone,

“The threat within the Ministry is growing, and I can see my time guiding the Wizengamot along the path of Progress drawing to a close in the very near future, as the new Minister and her supporters grow more powerful and their ideas take hold. But as yet, the evidence of corruption upon which I might act to nip the threat they represent in the bud, is utterly lacking, and I cannot force the Wizengamot to do my bidding.

“However, Voldemort’s threat is clear to all, and Voldemort by rights is a threat that belongs to a previous generation to put to rest - a job of _**mine**_ left unfinished - it really is up to me to see to Voldemort’s demise. But the future is up to the young, and I intend to see that you both survive to show the wizard world a better way to live. 

“We will discuss this more in the future... but in the meantime, I believe it would be in Harry’s best interests - _**all**_ of our best interests really - if you would move into Harry’s private chambers Miss Granger. They would be yours as well, for as long as you so wish it...”

“Of _**course**_ I will,” squeaked Hermione, putting her own embarrassment aside for Harry’s sake. “But... but aren’t there still rules against cohabitation, even for those who are legally of age?”

“Indeed there are Miss Granger - with exceptions generally only made for those who are married,” Dumbledore replied, a twinkle returning to his eyes. “However, there is a loophole which gives the headmaster the right to grant a waiver for the safety or health of the students. 

“I used such a waiver to give Harry his own quarters, and now that you are also legally of age - and can be shown to be making a choice of your own free will - I can grant you a waiver to join him on the grounds that you are both at risk of retaliation by the Death Eaters who remained at large and attacked the World cup, and that you are both safer together than apart... 

“And I have already obtained an affidavit provided by Madam Bones attesting to that - which is enough proof for the school’s board of governors. Admittedly, Madam Bones was a bit reticent at first, but Mrs Granger’s approval of the arrangement was persuasive.”

**~o0o~**

Harry was very quiet following the conversation with the headmaster. He braved the snowdrifts with Hermione for a contemplative stroll by the Black Lake. They walked arm in arm, breathing in the crisp winter air as snowflakes lightly drifted around them.

Harry hefted the Golden Egg in his other hand, not entirely certain why he had brought it along, other than the fact that he and Hermione were both anxious about it, and February 24th didn’t look so far away the day after Christmas. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

“Hunh?” Harry stared at Hermione blankly for a moment, not certain that he should give voice to his silly musings, “Oh... er.... just... erm...”

“Please Harry,” said Hermione earnestly, “I know Dumbledore has just given us lots to think about - but that’s _**exactly**_ why we should talk things through.”

“Yeah,... er... alright then. You’re right Hermione,” Harry nodded, swallowing and taking a deep breath, hoping that his ridiculous daydream wouldn’t be the one thing to finally scare off Hermione. “I... er... to tell you the truth, I was just wondering... erm... I was wondering if this was how marriage is supposed to feel - good like this - like I feel when I'm with you! I mean... I can't stop thinking about it since Moody and Dumbledore have both mentioned it. I suppose... I... erm... I was wondering if you felt the same way...”

Harry waited a moment, hoping that Hermione’s stunned silence was the same sort of speechlessness which had tied her tongue earlier that morning - the _**not**_ bad sort. He was just about go on when Hermione managed to muster her voice.

“Er... yes...” she said a bit weakly as her heart did little flips, suddenly understanding what Harry was really asking her, “I think it _**should**_ feel like this Harry. But... but... one day you might feel differently - there’s lots of other nice girls... and... and we’ve got our whole lives ahead of us... ” 

Hermione trailed off when she saw Harry wince in pain and absentmindedly rub his scar. Her breath caught and tears sprang to her eyes as the truth of Harry’s uncertain future hit her hard.

“It’s just... I already know that I could never hope to meet anyone nicer than you, Hermione,” said Harry, meeting her gaze with a gentle green look. “I mean sure... there’s loads of other pretty girls, and some of them are sweet too - but none of them could ever measure up to _**you!**_ ”

“You’re beautiful, kind, and smart, and brave, and you’ve stuck by me through everything, even the rubbishy bits... and... and you always keep your promises...” Harry continued.

Hermione flung herself on Harry and interrupted him with a tearful, jubilantly giggly kiss. Harry’s tension melted in the heat of Hermione’s embrace. 

“ _ **Yes**_ Harry!” she answered, eyes shining. “If you’re absolutely sure that’s what you want, I’ll marry you! We’ll still have to think of the best time and place...”

“How about the next Hogsmeade Day... on New Year's Day - before term starts,” said Harry, bursting with happiness and grinning excitedly. “Just you and me... Let’s just sneak off and do it! Maybe there’s a place in the village...” 

Harry knew that they were both very young, and that it was all happening too fast. But he didn’t care. All that mattered at that moment was that Harry loved Hermione utterly, and he wanted nothing more than to make her happy for putting up with a boyfriend who attracted danger like a magnet.

Lost in a euphoric haze, Harry picked up Hermione by the waist and spun her around as they had practiced for the Yule Ball. Hermione giggled madly, snowflakes glittering like diamonds in the golden glow of her tawny tresses. 

Harry had briefly forgotten about the Golden Egg. It flew from the pocket of his coat, opening with a loud screech, and tumbled with a plunk and a splash through the cracks in the ice at the shallow edge of the Black Lake. 

Harry and Hermione gaped at each other in amazement when the sound of a thousand rusty nails scraping an oil-drum turned into an ethereal choir of muted seraphic voices, as if to serenade the pledging of Harry’s troth.


	24. White Wedding

Giddily, Harry traipsed through the snowdrifts back to the castle, hand in hand with Hermione. Not only had he accidentally uncovered the secret of the screeching Golden Egg, Hermione had agreed to marry him. Still lost in the euphoric haze of the moment, Harry flung open the castle door and began to cross the entrance hall, oblivious to the snow trailing behind him and Hermione.

A surly looking figure appeared and Harry was brought back to reality with a sudden jolt. Filch!

Harry froze and groaned, heart pounding in his ears. Hermione let out an embarrassed little squeak and hid behind him, her face reddening. Harry mentally kicked himself for not paying more attention. He’d done so well until now, avoiding Filch and trying not to leave a mess for him since the Chamber of Secrets business. 

Harry wondered how much trouble he’d got himself and Hermione into. What sort of horrible detention did Filch have in store for them? As Filch drew closer, lurching ominously towards them, Harry squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the storm to break. 

To Harry’s utter horror, Filch’s knobby calloused fingers grasped him... and pulled him into a tight embrace as the cranky old caretaker burst into tears.

“Thank ye so much Mr Potter!” Filch sobbed, “Dumbledore tol’ me ye were the one ta thank for my Christmas Present... In all my years here, nobody, not _**once,**_ ‘as ever stopped ta think about what it’s like cleanin’ up without magic in this castle. Not. A. Single. One. I... I can’t thank ye enough!

“Thanks ta you, the ‘eadmaster not only enchanted all o’ my cleanin’ supplies, he also gave me a Self-Spellin’ wand that obeys my voice commands - I can do magic as long as I’m on Hogwarts grounds... It’s the nicest Christmas Present I’ve ever had!”

Harry was completely flummoxed. He vaguely remembered briefly mentioning something to Dumbledore about how badly he felt for Filch after Mrs Norris had been petrified. But he had no idea that Dumbledore had given his words a second thought, and he wondered why they were only seeing results now.

Harry cleared his throat, trying to think of something to say. He glanced at Hermione for help, but she was too stunned herself to do more than shrug uncertainly. 

“Erm... You’re very welcome Mr Filch!” Harry finally responded “I...I’m really sorry if I’ve ever caused you trouble.”

“No need ta apologise Mr Potter... No need at all. Ye’ve always been the politest of the lot really - just like yer mum. Though... I must say, Mrs Norris has always seemed ta ‘ave taken a bit of a shine to Miss Granger.”

Mr Filch dabbed at his happy tears with a dirty looking hanky, and a mop began to clean up their snowy footprints by itself when he waved his new wand.

Harry’s perplex followed him all the way to his - correction, _his and Hermione’s_ \- private chambers. Hermione beamed at Harry and pulled him into a big wet kiss the moment they were out of sight behind closed doors.

“I love you so much Harry! That was so kind and sweet of you...”

“That’s the thing Hermione... I don’t really remember saying much to Dumbledore about it. I think I only mentioned that I was sorry about Filch’s cat, and I think... er... I think I said that I felt bad about the Kwikspell Correspondence business, and that of course I didn’t hold it against Filch that he couldn’t do magic...”

“But you were _thinking_ about it at the time Harry. I remember you telling me and Ron about it just after - you told us that you had been thinking about how unfair it was for him to have to clean without magic too. Dumbledore must have picked up on what you were thinking - he is a legilimens after all...”

Harry marveled once again at Hermione’s incredible memory.

“But why only now?” he interjected, frowning in puzzlement. “...After all this time?” 

“It must have taken Dumbledore _**ages**_ to invent a Self-Spelling wand Harry! Nobody’s ever done that before...”

“Oh, yeah... I suppose that does make sense,” Harry nodded, eyebrows raised. He hadn’t quite considered that some things might be difficult, even for a wizard as experienced as Dumbledore. 

“And it’s probably something which might not be entirely legal, in case something like that fell into muggle hands,” Hermione added. “Though I expect it will only work for Filch, and only on Hogwarts Grounds.”

His curiosity satisfied by Hermione’s sensible reasoning, Harry hung up his winter coat on the rack and lifted the Golden Egg out of the pocket. It glinted in the flickering light of the fire in the hearth as he hefted it, feeling the weight in his hand.

“Right then,” he said. “I think I’ll take a bath and give this a listen, Hermione.”

**~o0o~**

Harry turned several of the numerous gold spigots while the enormous marble tub continued to fill with hot steamy water. Normally Harry took showers, and he had been puzzled by the number of different taps. But he had discovered that they contained a variety of different scented bath oils and bubbles when he had last taken the time for a nice hot soak. Soon the bath was full of his favourite bubbles and aromas.

He let out a little sigh as he settled himself into the sudsy foam and the heat penetrated his muscles. Harry reached for the Golden Egg on the side of the marble tub and gasped when he saw someone with tawny-brown hair standing next to the bathtub.

“Blimey Hermione! ... I - You - ” Harry sputtered. “What are you doing?”

“Joining you of course,” she responded breezily as she dropped the fluffy white towel wrapped around her. Hermione couldn’t maintain her air of nonchalance for long at the sight of Harry’s flustered reddening features and began to giggle. 

“Relax silly, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen me without clothes on...”

“Yeah... only the second or third,” Harry groaned, “depending on if you count last night and this morning as part of the same event.” 

A lopsided grin quickly replaced Harry’s look of embarrassment as his naked girlfriend - his _fiancée_ \- slid into the tub beside him and picked up the Golden Egg. He was beginning to think that he could definitely get used to this.

“Shall we then?” asked Hermione. 

Harry nodded and the pair of them dunked their heads under the sudsy surface of the bathwater as Hermione opened the Egg. As at the edge of the Black Lake, instead of the sound of a thousand screeching banshees, an ethereal seraphic choir could be heard. With their heads under water, it was much easier to make out the words. 

There was something oddly compelling about the unearthly chorus of feminine voices, despite the somewhat dismal nature of the song itself. If he didn’t have Hermione, Harry could imagine that he might have to follow those enchanting voices no matter where they led. But whatever magic the voices held were no match for Hermione; Harry loved her more than anything any entrancing maidens might throw at him. 

_Come seek us where our voices sound,_  
_We cannot sing above the ground,_  
_And while you're searching ponder this,_  
_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_  
_An hour long you'll have to look,_  
_And to recover what we took,_  
_But past an hour, the prospect's black,_  
_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back._

Harry’s head furiously broke the surface with a splash, sloshing foamy water and bubbles over the side of the marble tub, sputtering as he gasped for air. He grabbed a towel and wiped his glasses. Once he could see properly again, Harry spoke through gritted teeth, a vein throbbing in his temple.

“Hermione, I don’t care what the stupid task is! I’m not letting a bunch of bloody mermaids take you!”

“Harry, we really don’t have a choice. It’s obvious that Dumbledore can’t put a stop to this. The magical ‘contract’ won’t permit anyone to withdraw. You’ll die if you don’t at least attempt the task.”

“But they’re going to _**kidnap**_ you Hermione. And who knows what’ll happen to you down there?” Harry responded crossly.

“You’ll have an hour Harry. I know it’s not a long time, but I'm sure I'll be safe. I expect the merpeople will be bound by a magical contract of their own to honour within that time frame...” Hermione paused as something struck her.

“Harry, how did you work the riddle out so quickly?”

“Greek mythology,” Harry replied, his face still contorted with dismay, “The Dursleys made me take storybooks back to the school library if they caught me reading ones they didn't like, but they couldn’t stop me from reading my primary school workbooks, even if they wanted to. As soon as I heard them - the enticing voices - I knew they were Sea Nymphs - Nereids, Mermaids - whatever!

“Not being able to sing above the ground - but apparently underwater - made it bloody obvious. And there’s nothing more I’d miss in the world than you!

“But _**bugger**_ them - nobody’s stealing you from me if I can help it, Hermione! And... and if they think they can lure me with their pretty voices, they’ve got another think coming!” Harry concluded vehemently, scowling.

Hermione almost grinned at Harry, her saturated tawny hair plastered to the side of her head. But the joy of knowing how much she meant to Harry was overtaken by a nearly overwhelming swell of emotion, seeing his distress. She suddenly realised that Harry was on the verge of panicking at the idea of losing her. With a swift motion, Hermione wrapped herself around her soggy boyfriend and kissed him heatedly.

Some of Harry’s tension drained, and he began to feel a bit calmer. Sensing that Harry was regaining his composure, Hermione released his lips from her own and smiled at him, caressing his wet cheek with one hand. 

“That was _**brilliant**_ Harry! You got it quicker than me. _Try_ not to be too upset Harry, _please_... We’ll get through this one too. I know we will... We’ll just have to work something out. And since you’ve managed to get the riddle so quickly, we’ve got nearly two months to train for it. Now let’s just try and enjoy the rest of the Christmas Holidays, and we can start working on it after New Year...”

Hermione snapped the golden egg shut and chucked it all the way across the bathroom into the waste-bin by the door. Harry gaped at her, thinking that she might have made a good Chaser... if he could only get her on a broom.

“In the meantime, I think we need to get you good and relaxed,” Hermione concluded as she slinked closer for another kiss. 

Harry’s fingers caught up in her dripping coils of hair as the kiss deepened, and his heart palpitations began to even out. It was impossible for Harry to maintain his anxiety and anger over the nature of the second task with Hermione pressing her slippery wetness right up against him in the steam and foam as the hot water swirled around them both...

**~o0o~**

Hermione sighed as she lay next to Harry, stroking the unkempt black moptop that somehow always refused to lie flat - so much like her own untameable tangle of hair. Harry looked so peaceful as he slept beside her.

It was nice to see the corners of his lips turned up, no signs of pain or anxiety on his features. She wished it could always be so. As trepidation and numerous second thoughts about the upcoming New Year’s Day Hogsmeade visit churned in her mind and stomach, that was what ultimately decided her. There were so many good reasons not to get married at their age.

But who could say how long Harry had? For that matter, given the lengths that many pureblood supremacists appeared willing to go, who could say how long Hermione had? Logic told her that with both Voldemort plotting, and mysterious adversaries in the Ministry conspiring against them, Harry and she would be lucky to make it through all seven years at Hogwarts alive.

And it broke Hermione’s heart every time she thought about how much Harry had already suffered in his life. If she could make him happy - ease his pain - she would do anything for him. Hermione’s heart and her brain both led her to the same inexorable conclusion. Decision confirmed, she kissed Harry’s forehead and snuggled closer to him, finally drifting off to sleep as the knot in her middle unwound.

**~o0o~**

Harry grew increasingly anxious as New Year’s Day grew nearer. He picked at his breakfast, gnawing pensively on a piece of bacon, paying little attention to the morning hubbub in the Great Hall. When Harry stood up as Hermione departed to use the loo, Cho nudged Cedric and he took his opportunity to approach.

“Hey... Potter...”

“Hunh? ...” Harry was snapped out of his reverie as Cedric caught up to him just outside the entrance to the Hall. “Oh... Diggory, what’s up?”

“I... er... have you worked out that egg yet?” 

“Yeah, actually I did... just yesterday,” Harry replied, feeling a bit puzzled, wondering if Cedric Diggory was angling for another tip.

“Oh!” Cedric looked oddly disappointed. “I... erm... I just thought... I was wondering if you needed a hint. I finally got it just last week, and I was hoping to pay you back...”

“Thanks Diggory...” Harry smiled stiffly and nodded. “It’s alright though - we’re square...”

“Look...” Cedric interjected, “I know we chatted a bit at the Yule Ball... but I didn’t really get a chance to apologise to you properly - one on one - for being such a prat. I... I really am sorry for misjudging you. I’d like to think - maybe we could be friends?”

Harry grinned. “Yeah, I’d like that... Cedric!” 

“Er... right then. Thanks Harry!” 

Harry took Cedric’s hand and shook it, pleased to be on good terms again and to forget about being rivals. Cedric returned to the Great Hall to finish breakfast with Cho. When Harry turned around, he was surprised to see Hermione chatting with Fleur, both returning from the girls’ bathroom. Hermione said goodbye, and Fleur gave Harry a little smile as she re-entered the Hall.

“What was that all about?” asked Harry, his curiosity piqued when Hermione turned slightly pink.

“Fleur wanted to tell me the clue in the Golden Egg to give to you, Harry...” When Hermione paused, Harry knew there was a bit more to it. Hermione’s blush deepened as she continued. “She... she told me that she thinks you’re really sweet. Fleur said I was very lucky to have you as a boyfriend...”

Harry’s eyebrows popped up, lost under his fringe, but he sensed there was still something else coming. Hermione took a deep breath.

“And... and - I’m not entirely certain, but Fleur gave me the distinct impression that she likes girls too...” Hermione was nearly the colour of the Hogwarts Express.

“Wait - you mean...?” Harry’s look of surprise slowly turned into a silly grin, guessing that Fleur might have also mentioned how lucky he was to have Hermione as his girlfriend.

“ _ **Yes,**_ Harry...!” Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “That’s _exactly_ what I mean! _Anyway..._ let’s just leave it there then!”

Harry smirked, but Hermione dropped the subject entirely, suggesting that a walk through the snowy grounds would be nice. That sounded fine to Harry, as it would give him the opportunity to collect himself and broach the topic which was bothering him the most at the moment.

Hermione could feel Harry’s tension growing again as they shuffled through the light powdery white drifts near the lake. She stayed silent as they walked arm in arm, knowing that Harry would say something when he was ready.

“Hermione...” he began tentatively, guilt clouding his features, “I... Am I being selfish?”

“What do you mean Harry?” Hermione’s brows furrowed with concern.

“To... to rush you - maybe we _**should**_ wait - until we're older - after Hogwarts. I feel like such a prat! I don’t want to _**make**_ you feel like you have to marry me right now!”

Hermione halted dead in her tracks, seeing Harry’s glum expression, his eyes cast down as he rubbed at his scar. Her breath began to quicken, clouding in the frigid air as she blinked back tears.

“Harry Potter, I _**said ******_I would marry you, and I _ **meant**_ it!...”

“But I don’t want you to feel like we have do it right now, just for me...” 

“Harry, I _**love**_ you!” Hermione asserted adamantly. “I want this as much as you do!”

“But what about your mum? She’ll...”

“She’ll understand Harry! I _**promise!”**_

Hermione knew that once she explained her reasoning to her mother, she could make her understand. But she didn’t want to upset Harry any more than he already was by giving voice to the facts which they both knew. Hermione knew he was scared that he might die before experiencing the best bits of adulthood, and that he was scared of getting her killed too, and that the two impulses were at war within him, tearing him apart.

“ _ **Look**_ at me Harry... _**please!”**_ Hermione cupped his chin with her gloved hand, and lifted it so that she could look directly into his glistening green eyes. “I can write a letter to Mum! I swear... she’ll understand. You have to believe me!

“And more importantly, I want you to know that no matter what happens - or what you say - I’m _**never**_ leaving your side. You can’t save me by pushing me away Harry! Whatever happens, we’ll face it together!”

Harry peered at Hermione’s earnest features, the tears freezing on her pink cheeks, the golden flash in her eyes and her rapidly heaving chest. In that moment, he knew it would break Hermione’s heart to back out now. Harry pushed back at the little voice telling him that he was being selfish. If Hermione wanted this too, he couldn’t possibly say no. 

“Th...thanks Hermione!” Harry croaked, his own tears threatening to leak. “I... I really needed to hear that.”

Harry pulled Hermione into a tight embrace and kissed her deeply, his apprehension melting away.

**~o0o~**

The next few days leading up to New Year’s Day went quickly. They passed the time with their friends: building a snowman with Luna and Ginny, playing games with Dean and Neville, getting in snowball fights with the Twins, having tea with Parvati and Lavender. The hardy Viktor Krum even challenged Harry to chase a Snitch with him on New Year’s Eve, during a snow flurry which was nearly a blizzard.

Harry and Hermione woke up to a bright and clear New Year’s Day, the world outside sparkling and white. Crookshanks yawned at them sleepily from the top of the dresser where he lay, his bushy tail curled around Hedwig. 

They decided to leave for Hogsmeade early. Trudging down the lane to the village, under trees laden with snow, less students than they had imagined were taking advantage of the chance to visit Hogsmeade, perhaps sleeping in after rowdy New Year’s Eve parties in their Common Rooms and intending to go down in the afternoon. 

As they entered the town, a sudden anxious thought struck Harry when he realised that perhaps he should have planned ahead a bit better. 

“So... er... I don’t know much about religion Hermione. D’you think they have wizard priests?”

Hermione giggled.

“It’s alright Harry! You don’t need a priest to get married. Besides, I’m agnostic, so I don’t really care about having a Church wedding. Anyway, there’s a Wedding Parlour in the village... I looked it up. They’ll have someone licenced by the Ministry to perform weddings.

Harry let out a sigh of relief, but a few other things rushed through his mind that he knew he should have thought about sooner. He didn’t care if they got married bundled up in their winter clothes. As far as Harry was concerned, Hermione was beautiful in anything. But he wondered if she’d like to dress up a bit for the occasion.

“Hermione, I know we’re just sort of winging it, but would you like a proper wedding dress? I can easily afford it. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but...”

Hermione shut Harry up with a big kiss, then she giggled again.

“It would take them hours to fit me Harry. Thank you so much for offering though. Maybe I’ll take you up on it on our anniversary.”

Harry grinned at that.

“Er... Right!” he said, “Well then, there’s only one stop we _**have**_ to make before we get on with this.”

“Oh Harry... _No!_ You don’t have to... really!” Hermione protested when she saw where Harry was leading her. But Harry was having none of it, and half an hour later the pair emerged from the jewellery shop, a purple velvet ring box clutched in Harry’s hand.

It was a short walk from the jewellery shop to Wendy Widdershin’s Wedding Parlour. Glistening icicles hung from the parlour’s eaves and the windowsill, webs of frost crisscrossing the windowpanes.

A tinkling sound rang out when Harry and Hermione opened the door. The parlour glittered and sparkled with hanging crystals and delicate ornaments. A friendly-looking, round witch in flowing white robes sat behind an ornate white desk with silver and gold embellishments. 

Wendy Widdershin looked up from her desk to see a pair of anxious looking young teenagers with pink glowing cheeks peeking around her parlour. If she had to guess, she would have thought they were both about thirteen or fourteen. She beamed cheerfully at them as if she saw young wizards their age trying to get married every other day. And truth be told, at least once or twice a year, students from Hogwarts would sneak down to the village to give it a go.

Wendy felt a little tug on her heart strings; there was nothing sweeter than seeing a young couple so in love that they were already willing to make a lifelong commitment, and it always pained her to have to turn them away.

“Hello dears, can I help you?”

“Erm...” Harry swallowed nervously, he glanced at Hermione, then back at the witch he presumed to be Wendy Widdershin. “We... er... we’d like to be married please!”

“I’m so sorry dears,” said Wendy sympathetically, “But without the express permission of your parents, I cannot help you. You must be at least sixteen or older to elope.”

“But we’re both legally adults now,” squeaked Hermione. “We’re emancipated!”

Wendy’s eyes grew bigger as she peered at them skeptically.

“Really? You both look a bit young for emancipation...”

“It’s true - we really are emancipated - and I’m fifteen...” Hermione insisted. Harry shuffled awkwardly and gulped again, not keen to admit that he was only fourteen. 

“Well dears, let’s have a look at your wands then,” said Wendy, smiling indulgently. She took their wands and put each in turn on her gold scales. 

Wendy Widdershin gasped. She glanced at Harry Potter, her eyes briefly searching for the scar, before remarking.

“My goodness gracious! You two really _**are**_ emancipated. Well, there’s nothing standing in the way then. You’ll just need to sign a Ministry form, then I’ll perform a quick ceremony if that is your preference.”

“That sounds lovely,” Hermione replied, beaming radiantly. 

“Yes please!” said Harry, grinning and nodding, his breath quickening. 

A few minutes later, after signing the form and hanging up their coats and hats, Harry and Hermione were ready to begin.

Delightfully, Wendy Widdershin gave them some silky white robes to slip on over their clothes. She lit a pair of long tapered candles as a self-playing harp played a lilting melody and a hundred luminescent fairies fluttered around the altar. She poured some red wine in a golden chalice set in the centre of the altar, then placed a silver dagger in the chalice, resting its hilt against the rim. 

Wendy inwardly let out a happy sigh to see the love so clearly shining in their eyes as she led the young couple through their wedding vows. She instinctively knew that they were meant to be together. Wendy’s singular talent for reading people and knowing a lasting coupling when she saw one, made her especially suited for her chosen path.

Harry and Hermione each took a sip of red wine from a single crystal goblet. Finally it was time; Harry retrieved the ring from the purple velvet jewellery box: an elegant gold band inset with seven sparkling diamonds. 

“I love you Hermione,” said Harry quietly as he slipped the ring on her finger. 

Hermione fluttered her eyelashes shyly. Harry thought Hermione couldn’t look any more beautiful, her gleaming golden ringlets tumbling over her shoulders.

“I love you too Harry,” she whispered before leaning in to kiss him. The world fell away as Harry and Hermione kissed, a warm swell of luminous joy filling them both. For a moment, they felt buoyed by wings of gossamer, floating on a sea of eternal bliss.


	25. Truth and Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more lemony version of this chapter is available in _Moments in Love: The Steamy Version._

The headmaster’s eyes twinkled as he regarded the pained expression on his deputy headmistress’s features, her furrowed brow and pursed lips a sure sign of distress. The Phoenix on the perch ruffled his carmine and gold feathers and averted his eyes, looking as if he were considering flight to avoid an oncoming storm. The headmaster gestured towards the steaming hot cup of Earl Grey he had poured for the deputy headmistress and the accompaniments on the tea-tray.

“Lemon and honey? Cream and sugar? The lemon-ginger biscuits are also quite nice,” he offered brightly.

“Really Albus,” snapped Professor McGonagall, ignoring the cup of tea and the biscuits, “look what has become of your meddling. Gryffindor will be in an uproar - indeed, no doubt the whole school shall be awash with rumour and innuendo. How can this possibly be of benefit to Mr Potter and Miss Granger...?”

“I believe the proper terms of address are now Mr and Mrs Potter,” said Albus Dumbledore politely, his eyebrows raised. Professor McGonagall let out an angry huff.

“That is my point precisely! First allowing them to share private chambers - then this! How you could allow this to happen - at their age...”

Dumbledore raised his hand slightly and Professor McGonagall quieted.

“You must believe me Minerva. I have only the best interests of Harry and Mrs Potter at heart. Indeed, their formal marriage now puts me in a much stronger position for defending their cohabitation in private quarters to the School’s Board of Governors. Such arrangements have been made in the past for young married couples...”

“Yes, but in the entire history of Hogwarts, only during the sixth or seventh year of the students in question,” Minerva McGonagall interrupted acidly, unable to help herself. “And it is exceedingly rare in any case. 

“You know as well as I do that once such an arrangement is formalised, private housing necessarily becomes permanent and the standard rules of House affiliation no longer apply. That is generally not so much of an issue for those who have reached the standard age of majority, and who usually only have a number of months of schooling left - but the Potters are _**only in fourth year.”**_

“That is true,” Dumbledore nodded, his twinkles vanishing as he suddenly realised where Professor McGonagall was going with her line of argument. He stroked his long silvery beard pensively when he began speaking again. 

“As to Harry and Mrs Potter’s treatment by the school populace, I daresay that their new status as husband and wife shall make very little difference at the moment, given the scrutiny they have _**already**_ endured this year. Many teenagers can be fickle and sometimes unwittingly cruel creatures, but quite frankly, they are no more or less easily swayed by vicious propaganda and the prodding of their peers than many adults. 

“There is very little that we can do about the effects of outside propaganda such as to be found in the pages of the _Daily Prophet_... Regardless, it is _**our**_ duty as educators to guide our students as best we can to treat each other in a kind and respectful manner and to not succumb to an unruly mob mentality. And it is also up to us as the Order of the Phoenix to protect those who are at greatest risk.

“These are dangerous times Minerva. Voldemort has returned to Britain as you well know, and a possibly competing Darkness is growing within the Ministry itself. And might I remind you that you were quite in agreement with me regarding Harry’s emancipation?...”

Minerva McGonagall inwardly groaned. Indeed, when they had been discussing options for dealing with Harry’s mistreatment at the hands of the Dursleys, she had been very much in favour of pressing Fudge to emancipate Harry on his authority as Minister. 

Ultimately, it was the Dursleys’ ignoring of the first Ministry Warning, and the escape of Black from prison which had compelled Dumbledore to follow through and finally make that call. She turned her attention back to the headmaster as he went on. 

“It is true,” said Dumbledore, “that I alone am responsible for asking Mrs Granger to emancipate her daughter for Harry’s benefit - his protection - but can you truly be so quick to dismiss her agreement to do so, given Hermione Potter’s exceptional degree of maturity and intellect? 

“The choices that Harry and Hermione Potter made were their own entirely, and they made them deservedly so. And can you truly disagree that the Potters are now much safer together, in a wing of the castle not so easily accessible to those with the passwords to enter the Houses - as Sirius himself and Alastor both reminded me?...”

Professor McGonagall flushed, recalling how easy it had been for Sirius Black to gain entrance to Gryffindor Tower. And despite the efforts which had been made since to teach the portraits guarding the Houses not to let in anyone who was not a student or staff member, if the experience with the False Alastor Moody - Barty Crouch Jr - had taught them anything, it was that anyone under the influence of a polyjuice potion with the right passwords could enter Gryffindor Tower. 

Minerva McGonagall’s lips grew thinner and her consternation grew deeper as Dumbledore continued to speak.

“...And the Potters have both - even at such tender ages - proven themselves deserving of being treated as adults time and time again. It would be quite unfair for us now to disallow them to make their own choices, legal adults that they now are both, as long as they are kept fully informed of the potential consequences of their acts...”

“Well there you go then,” interjected Professor McGonagall haughtily, arching her eyebrows, latching desperately onto the last, best argument that Dumbledore had just tossed in her lap. “... _ **Consequences**_ indeed! Mr Potter clearly cannot have known that by his impetuous act, he has made himself ineligible to be Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team for the remainder of his time at Hogwarts.”

“Yes,” said Dumbledore in a small voice. He went on with a sigh, “That is most unfortunate for Mr Potter. However, it is possible that there may be a way around the bylaws regarding Unaffiliated students - Harry and his wife _were_ originally chosen by the Sorting Hat for Gryffindor after all.”

A wry expression crossed Dumbledore’s features as he was reminded of his deputy’s very considerable degree of determination, and a twinkle returned to his eyes as he peered at her over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

“I must say Minerva,” he continued, “that you were _quite_ proficient in finding a means to bend the rules to afford young Harry the opportunity to play for the team during his first year; therefore I shall leave researching a means to allow him to _continue_ playing in your quite capable hands. I have no doubt that you shall... 

“And when you do, I expect you to explain to Harry in full that he, as an _Unaffiliated_ student, is being granted _**another**_ rare opportunity - and to this time leave the choice to rejoin the team in _**his**_ hands.”

Professor McGonagall appeared somewhat disconcerted by Dumbledore’s final pointed remarks. As she departed the headmaster’s office, Dumbledore couldn’t help but feel that Harry Potter might yet surprise them both with whatever choice he made. 

Dumbledore took another sip from his own teacup and glanced at the parchments on his desk, weighing the pros and cons of some of the other decisions which lay before him.

**~o0o~**

The day after the New Year had begun, Parvati and Lavender both giggled excitedly as they helped Hermione lug the rest of her things to Harry’s - no, Hermione corrected herself - _her_ and Harry’s private chambers. They had waited until they were certain that nobody else was in the Gryffindor Common Room - especially Ron, uncertain as Hermione was about his possible reaction to the news.

On the one hand, over the holidays Ron had continued to telegraph indications that he wanted to be friends with Harry again. But on the other, judging from the looks Ron had been giving them during the Yule Ball, it still seemed that he had little control over his jealousy.

Hermione peered anxiously at Lavender and Parvati while they helped arrange her things next to Harry’s in the wardrobe and dresser drawers while she filled the bookshelves with her books. Crookshanks sat on the bed grinning at them, flicking his bushy orange tail lazily. 

“You won’t tell anyone yet, will you?” she asked.

“Well, it won’t be a secret that you and Harry are married for long, especially as you’re wearing that lovely ring,” Parvati fairly pointed out. “And everyone will be wondering why you aren’t living in Gryffindor Tower anymore.”

“Besides, marriages are recorded by the Ministry and reported in the paper,” said Lavender sympathetically. “By the time term starts, everyone will know.”

“Anyway, even though some people will probably think it’s a bit weird - you both being married so young - at least they won’t be able to say rude things about you two living together _**not**_ married,” Parvati added.

“I suppose you’re both right,” Hermione sighed. “I’m just being silly.”

“And it’s not like you’re the first people to ever get married as teenagers.” Lavender sighed happily with a dreamy expression. “ _ **I**_ think it’s romantic.”

“That’s because you want to run off and marry Viktor,” giggled Parvati.

“Prat!” retorted Lavender, giving Parvati a swat with a cushion.

The last few days of the Christmas Holidays seemed to pass without incident, but as it turned out, Parvati and Lavender were correct; by the time term began, nearly the entire school was aware and the whispers had already begun. But at least the Potters still had their closest friends for support, and the whispers surprisingly remained as little more than quiet talk and the occasional giggle. 

Luna, Neville, and Ginny had been at least as congratulatory as Parvati and Lavender. And Viktor Krum, the Twins, and Dean Thomas had all been quite impressed with Harry. It was hard to tell what Ron and Seamus thought, as they had been a bit more subdued and kept to themselves somewhat since the Yule Ball. 

And for those few who were still in the dark when term started, they could hardly miss the fact that most of the professors found themselves stumbling over the proper way to address Hermione in class. Professor Sprout was among the first to keep calling Hermione Miss Granger, and then catching herself and calling her Mrs Potter, but she certainly wasn't the last. Hermione had blushed furiously as the class fell into a fit of giggles. 

“Blimey Hermione!” a crimson faced Harry muttered as they departed from their first Herbology lesson of the year. “Sorry - I never thought about that. If you want to, you can keep your last name - I’m not fussed about that sort of...”

 **“No!”** Hermione said firmly, giving Harry a hard stare. “I _**like**_ being Mrs Potter, and don’t you ever forget that, Harry! 

“...Besides, it’s too late for that now. And _**yes**_... I _was_ a bit worried at first about what people would think, but then I realised that it didn’t make one bit of difference. Lots of people have been rude and horrible about both of us since first year anyway, but as long as we have each other and our friends, I can put up with anything!”

“I hope so Hermione,” Harry sighed as they made their way through the snowdrifts to Care of Magical Creatures, “because we’re about to have a lesson with the Slytherins.”

But when they reached the paddock in the clearing near Hagrid’s hut, the topic on the top of everyone’s mind seemed to be something quite different. Ron, Seamus, Neville, and Dean were frowning at Draco Malfoy and the Slytherins, who all seemed to be quite gleeful. 

“What’s going on?” Harry asked Neville. “Where’s Hagrid?”

“See for yourself,” Neville muttered, passing Harry a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ as the Slytherins continued to chortle nastily. Seamus and Ron averted their eyes shiftily when Harry glanced at them. Hermione frowned at the headline.

**DUMBLEDORE’S GIANT MISTAKE: HALFBREEDS AT HOGWARTS**

Hermione scanned through the article quickly while Harry tried to keep up.

“So what if Hagrid is Half-Giant!?” she snapped crossly, “It’s just bigotry... they can’t _all_ be horrible - it’s just like the prejudice against Werewolves... Look how Skeeter goes on and on about Lupin as well in the second, third, and fourth paragraphs - and _he’s_ as sweet and mild-mannered as a lamb!”

Ron and Seamus looked at each other and shook their heads in disbelief, unwilling to argue with Hermione, torn between their affection for Hagrid and their preconceptions about brutally savage Giants.

“How did that Skeeter cow find out anyway?” growled Harry, his blood boiling. “I thought she’d been banned from Hogwarts.”

Seamus and Ron looked a bit shifty again.

“Dunno,” Ron muttered awkwardly, the first words he had spoken to Harry since before Christmas. This wasn’t exactly the way he’d planned to try and get Harry to speak to him again. “Seamus and I overheard Hagrid and Madame Maxime chatting a bit about their childhoods while we were... erm... getting smashed during the Yule Ball. I suppose Rita Skeeter could’ve heard too, but we didn’t see her anywhere.”

“Mebbe she’s got an Invisibility Cloak,” Seamus proffered with a shrug.

“Whatever! Skeeter’s just doing a public service! _That_ should put an end to the Halfbreed Oaf’s teaching career...” sneered Malfoy, “I can’t see anyone wanting their kids to be taught by a savage giant - they’ll be worried that he’ll eat them. Haha..!”

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered sycophantically.

“Shove off Malfoy!” snarled Ron. 

Harry briefly felt a moment of kinship with Ron before he remembered that he was still cross with him as well. Harry was about to furiously respond to Malfoy too, but at that moment, a witch with short steely-grey hair and a jutting chin entered the clearing. 

“Alright now, that’s enough of that then! It’s time for class to begin...”

“Where’s Hagrid?” Harry interrupted the substitute professor heatedly. 

“Too ashamed to show his stupid face I reckon,” Malfoy smirked.

The witch ignored Harry and Draco, speaking briskly and loudly over the both of them. “My name is Professor Grubbly-Plank, and I shall be teaching this class until further notice. This way please.” 

The professor wheeled about and led them past the Beauxbatons horses to the far end of the paddock. Harry’s breath caught and the girls all “ooohed” and “aaahed” when they spied the gleaming white Unicorn tethered to a tree, its luminous brightness making the glistening snow look dingy in comparison.

Harry was so overtaken by its beauty that his fury at Malfoy and being ignored by the professor melted away. The last Unicorn he had seen had been lying dead on the forest floor, its silvery blood dripping from the mouth of Voldemort’s Shade. Harry blinked back the unbidden tears and stepped towards the Unicorn; Hermione grabbed his hand.

“Harry, no!” she squeaked anxiously, eyeing the Unicorn pawing nervously at the snow-covered ground with its golden hooves.

“Stay back, boy!” snapped Professor Grubbly-Plank. “Unicorns prefer a woman’s touch...”

But Harry didn’t seem to hear as the compulsion drew him closer. The world had gone silent and for a moment it only seemed to contain him, Hermione and the Unicorn. Falling snowflakes stilled and sparkled in midair, frozen in time as Harry bowed and reached out his hand. The Unicorn calmed and bowed its own head. 

Hermione gasped and beamed at Harry as he gently petted the Unicorn’s nose and stroked its silky white mane. Still holding Harry’s other hand, she stroked the Unicorn too, feeling a strong urge to kiss Harry and ride off with him into the forest on its back. 

Professor Grubbly-Plank quieted and held her breath, eyes wide with shock, afraid that she might break the spell and spook the Unicorn. As she watched the bushy haired girl reach out her own hand to touch the Unicorn, it finally registered with the substitute professor that the irksome boy was Harry Potter. 

“Well done Mr Potter!” she said quietly when Harry rejoined the rest of the students with a glowing Hermione at his side. 

As she looked him over to see what could possibly account for the Unicorn’s unusual behaviour, Professor Grubbly-Plank noticed that there was something quite different about Harry Potter’s shining green eyes, something that seemed almost feminine. She snapped out of it with a shake of her head and returned to form. 

“Right then class!” she said brusquely, “Now, what you just saw was _**very**_ unusual. If you value your lives boys, I highly recommend that you keep back! Unicorns can be quite dangerous towards males. Girls, please form a line...”

Malfoy snorted and glowered at Harry and Hermione. Draco felt a nearly overwhelming urge to ignore the Professor’s warning and have a go at touching the Unicorn. If Halfblood Potter and a Mudblood could do it, then he knew he could do it too. He was a Pureblood - a Noble - of course a Unicorn would accept him. But then he remembered his experience with the Hippogriff and thought better of it.

“Big Deal!” sneered Malfoy. “So you touched a Unicorn, Potter! ...Just proves how girly you are.”

Harry raised his eyebrows at Malfoy and smirked. “Yeah, maybe I am. So what?”

Draco felt a surge of bewilderment and anger, unable to conjure a response as Harry and Hermione turned and walked away. After classes finished for the day, Harry and Hermione traipsed back down through the snow to Hagrid’s hut and banged on the door, to little avail. 

“Hagrid, open up!” Harry yelled, thumping loudly. 

“It’s just us Hagrid!” shouted Hermione.

But the door remained shut, and Hagrid remained silent; all they could hear was Fang barking and whining as he scratched from the other side.

**~o0o~**

Worry about Hagrid ate at Harry and Hermione, but when they reached the Room of Requirement for training with Professor Moody, they were distracted by the presence of a girl who looked like she might be in seventh year, though neither of them had ever seen a girl with spiky violet hair at Hogwarts before.

“Right then Potters,” growled Moody, unable to resist grinning at them both and giving them a wink, “before we begin, I’d like you to meet Nymphadora Tonks...”

“But just call me Tonks for now alright,” said the violet haired girl, sticking out her tongue at Moody. “I hate my first name - and Mad Eye bloody knows it.”

Professor Moody chuckled and the Potters took to Tonks immediately, both of them grinning at her.

“Heh, be that as it may,” Mad Eye continued, “Tonks is here for a couple o’ reasons. One is to help continue the trainin’ as it’s plainly obvious to me that Mr Potter’ll be far too soft on his missus to get the job done right when we begin hand to hand fightin’ techniques. She’ll be workin’ with Mrs Potter... And the other reason - the main one really - is that she’ll be keepin’ an eye on you both for the Order. She’ll be movin’ into quarters right next to yours...” 

“The Order? What’s that?” asked Harry, suddenly suspicious. “And why does someone need to keep an eye on us?”

“Don’t worry,” said Tonks hastily, glaring at Moody. “It’s not the way Mad Eye makes it sound. I’m Sirius’s cousin - he thought you should have a protection detail on you and Hermione, Harry, given the circumstances of You-Know-Who’s return and the fact that someone in the Ministry with connections here at Hogwarts seems to ‘ave it in for you too...”

“The Malfoys and the Minister,” Hermione hissed. 

“Perhaps!” Moody chuckled. “Anyway, Dumbledore agreed, and so Tonks is in. She’ll be shadowin’ you between and after classes. You should both be grateful - she’s put a promising career as an Auror on hold to be part of this...”

Tonks rolled her eyes at Mad Eye and shook her head. “Don’t let Mad Eye guilt you - I’m here because I volunteered for it.”

“...And if Tonks would quit interruptin,’ maybe I could finish,” Moody grumbled. “As I was saying, Tonks finished her Auror training last summer, but she’s also a part of the Order - the Order of the Phoenix that is. Dumbledore started it way back when to fight Voldemort the first time around - your mum and dad were part of it Mr Potter. 

“So were Sirius and Remus and half the professors at Hogwarts... and the Weasleys too, among others. Some would’ve thought we might’ve stopped after you apparently finished Voldemort, Potter. But we’ve been keepin’ our eye on things and layin’ low is all. After the business with the Philosopher’s Stone we’ve been on full alert again. And with everything that’s been goin’ on this year, Dumbledore thought it was about time you were in on it too...” 

“Sirius!” said Tonks in a loud stage whisper, giving Harry and Hermione a wink.

“Yeah, I s’pose Tonks is right about that,” said Moody, with another gruff chuckle. “Sirius and I kinda pushed the issue a bit with Dumbledore - we figure that given what you’ve both accomplished already, you’re old enough now, and you’ve got a right to be part of it all. So now that bit’s outta the way, I need to ask you if you’ve worked out the Egg yet, Potter?”

Harry swallowed when Professor Moody’s electric-blue eye gave him a penetrating look, glad that he and Hermione had managed to work it out, and not given Moody the chance to berate him.

“Yeah, I got it just before New Year’s,” Harry nodded.

“Excellent Potter! Right - well I reckon we’ll need a swimming pool in here to train in for part of the week then. You might as well swim in place of your regular daily calisthenics for now. But as I said - we’ll also start doin’ a bit of hand to hand, though we’ll focus more strongly on that once we’re past the Second Task now that we’ve got a good idea what this one entails.” 

“Er... The only thing is, I don’t really know how to swim,” said Harry, flushing with embarrassment. “The Dursleys never took me swimming whenever they took Dudley, and my primary school didn’t have a pool.” 

Tonks scowled, remembering some of the things that Sirius had told her about how the Dursleys had apparently treated Harry.

“That’s alright Harry,” said Hermione, looking sympathetic. “I can show you how to swim. I’m not brilliant, but I know all the basic strokes.”

“Good enough then,” Moody nodded. “Finally, you’ll need to be able to breathe underwater for the duration of the task. I’ll leave you to work that bit out yourself - gotta give you somethin’ to figure out on your own. I’ll give you a couple of weeks tops... Anyway, you can start workin’ on that tomorrow Potter, today we’ll get you both started on some fightin’ techniques...” 

Harry was glad that he and Hermione had kept up a bit with their calisthenics over the holidays, as Moody put them both through their paces before he and Tonks showed them how to do a few basic blocks, strikes, holds, and throws. Moody grinned at them both while they were groaning on the mat at the end of the lesson.

“Heh! Count your lucky stars we’ll only be doin’ that about one lesson a week till after this task is done with. There’ll be a lot more of that coming to prepare for the Third Task. So get crackin’ on swim practice Potter.” And with one final chuckle, Professor Moody stumped out of the Room of Requirement.

When they had finally managed to recover a bit and catch their breaths, Harry pushed himself up off the mat with a grunt as Tonks helped Hermione to her feet.

“Sorry about that,” said Tonks apologetically when Hermione winced in pain as they made their way back to their private chambers to clean up before dinner. “Mad Eye seems to think he’s still runnin’ the Auror Training bootcamp...”

“No, I’m fine... really!” Hermione lied.

“Yeah... we’re used to it now.” Harry groaned again. Every muscle and joint in his body hurt. 

Tonks peered at them both wryly as she pulled several vials of potion out of her pocket.

“Here you go then - a couple of pain potions for you both,” she said with a grin. “I got ‘em off Pomfrey before I headed up here with Mad Eye. I knew ‘e’d be a bear about it... He ran everyone through the ringer when he was trainin’ us at the Auror Academy. It really _will_ get easier eventually... after you actually _**do**_ get used to it...”

“So what’s it like being an Auror?” Harry asked after gratefully swigging the pain potion. A flicker of uncertainty crossed Tonks’ features.

“It’s alright I suppose - I like gettin’ the bad guys...” she replied, “but to be perfectly honest, I’m sorta glad to be out of it and back at Hogwarts. Aurors tend to be a bit of a stiff lot... and me, well... I like to ‘ave fun...”

“How come you joined up then?” asked Hermione, her eyes glazing slightly as the pain potion began to kick in. 

“Mad Eye!” Tonks muttered. “He recruited me after I got in a spot of trouble at Hogwarts during sixth year - I couldn’t really say no...” Tonks trailed off. Neither Hermione nor Harry pressed her; it was quite apparent that she wasn’t keen to revisit what was clearly a painful memory for her. 

“Anyway,” Tonks continued, brightening, “when Sirius asked me if I wanted to go undercover for the Order and come back to Hogwarts for a bit, I jumped at the opportunity. Most of the Aurors working security for the Triwizard tournament know me - _they_ think I’m doing plainclothes undercover security for them, but _really,_ I’ll just be watchin’ your backs for the Order... I’ll try to stay outta your hair though...”

Feeling cheerful and slightly buzzy from the pain potions by the time they reached their quarters, Harry and Hermione were both intrigued to see the new door in the corridor very near their own. Tonks looked like she wanted to say something else, but instead turned towards the new door, which apparently belonged to her.

“Well, I suppose I’d better let you two get cleaned up for dinner then...” 

“Wait,” said Hermione after sharing a brief look with Harry, “why don’t you come in for a bit and have dinner with us? We’re a bit too worn out to go downstairs tonight anyway.”

“You sure about that?” 

“Yeah... absolutely,” said Harry quickly with a grin, eager to find out more about whatever it was Tonks seemed keen to talk about.

Dobby was only too happy to bring them all dinner in the Potters’ private chambers. Tonks soon had Harry and Hermione in stitches as she regaled them with stories about her time at Hogwarts, and some of her funnier moments training to be an Auror. They were fascinated to learn that her father was a muggleborn. Tonks peered at Harry sympathetically as she chatted about the favourite bits of visiting her muggle relatives.

“...yeah, I love muggle comic books and movies,” she was telling them, “especially sci fi/fantasy and superhero stuff. I love watchin’ _Dr Who_ and _Star Trek_ on the telly when I visit my muggle grandparents and cousins, and _Star Wars_ is one of my favourite movies...” Tonks seemed to be drawing nearer to the topic she had wanted to talk about to begin with when she gave Harry a conspiratorial look.

“...I’m sorry you had such a rough time of it with your muggle relatives Harry. But Sirius mentioned something you told him about which I thought was interesting. Is it true that when your aunt tried to cut off all your hair that you regrew it overnight?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, wondering where Tonks was going with this. “I got in loads of trouble for that, even though I didn’t know how I did it. I still don’t really... I suppose it was just accidental magic... like the time I turned Aunt Marge into a balloon.”

“Hmmm... It’s a bit more than that, I should think,” said Tonks excitedly. “That’s not something just any wizard could do, even accidentally. That sorta self-transfiguration nearly always requires a wand... unless you’re a metamorphmagus.”

Hermione gasped, but Harry looked puzzled.

“A what?”

“A metamorphmagus Harry,” said Hermione, her eyes boggling. “They can transform their anatomy - even make bits into animal forms... though you’d have to be an animagus like Professor McGonagall or Sirius to transform into an animal completely. Mostly though, a metamorphmagus can make themselves look like whoever they want - without polyjuice potion - and they’re incredibly rare...”

“Hermione’s right, Harry...” Tonks eagerly confirmed. “I oughta know... because I’m one myself!”

“And... and you think that _**I’m**_ one too?” Harry gaped incredulously at Tonks. 

“You’d ‘ave to be to regrow your hair like that overnight - though you could’ve done it in three seconds flat if you’d’ve been trying... look...”

And before their eyes, as Harry and Hermione gawked in amazement, Tonks’s spiky purple hair lengthened and billowed into long flowing golden locks as her face transformed until she looked like another girl entirely.

“Blimey!” gasped Harry.

“I can teach you how t’do it Harry... if you’d like,” offered Tonks. “You have to be born with the talent, but it still takes a bit of work and practice to figure out how to use it to its best advantage. You can even change gender if you’re good enough...”

“When do we start?” asked Harry, grinning from ear to ear.

**~o0o~**

When the Potters saw Tonks the next morning waiting for them in the corridor as they made their way to breakfast, her hair was bubble-gum pink, and she was wearing Gryffindor robes with a badge that said Teacher’s Assistant.

“‘Plainclothes’ Undercover work and disguises is my speciality as an Auror of course,” she said with a grin. “Easier to blend in a bit and shadow you without drawin’ too much attention...”

“Er...” said Harry, as he and Hermione both glanced skeptically at Tonks’s hair.

“Oh, yeah...” Tonks giggled. “Well really, if anything, that oughta make it a bit easier for me to mix with a bunch of teenagers... Most’ll just think I’m a recent Hogwarts graduate trainin’ to be a professor.”

And as it turned out, Tonks was correct and most just accepted her as an older teenager doing postgraduate work. Except for the occasional glances at her hair, the only real questions she got at the Gryffindor table were from a few older students wondering why they hadn’t noticed her in previous years (“...been out sick for a year and a half since I graduated, and I didn’t colour my hair back then...” was her pat answer), and what professorship she was in training for (“...as a substitute for a bit, until a permanent position opens up. Course... I’m hoping Dumbledore starts a music programme so I can teach you lot how to start wizard rock bands...” was an answer well received with lots of giggles).

Harry took his first metamorphmagus lesson with Tonks after classes and his swim practice with Hermione that afternoon. Hermione had found everything she could in the library on metamorphmagi and piled it into her bookbag, making certain that she had plenty of extra parchment, ink, and quills to take notes. Harry raised his eyebrows when he saw Hermione’s preparations, peering at her with bemusement.

“Er... anyone would think that _you’re_ the one taking metamorphmagus lessons, Hermione,” said Harry with a puzzled grin. Hemione blushed slightly, then turned and gave Harry The Look.

“You don’t think that I would miss learning about something, just because I can’t do it myself, do you?” she responded a bit haughtily.

Harry turned pink himself, and looked chastened.

“No... No, of course not! I’m sorry Hermione, I don’t know what I was thinking,” he said quickly. “Of course we’re taking _**all**_ of our lessons together.”

Hermione’s features softened and she gave him a quick kiss. “It’s alright Harry. Besides, I’ll be able to take notes while you keep your focus on the practical aspects.”

And as Hermione was the only one with any experience swimming, she was the one to ask the Room of Requirement for a swimming pool when they reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Harry was very impressed with the heated pool, not to mention quite happy to see Hermione in a bikini again... and quite embarrassed when he had to adjust his swimming trunks. 

Hermione grinned when she saw his goofy flustered expression, secretly pleased that Harry was still easily abashed by the sight of her less than fully clothed. She found Harry’s shyness about such things to be one of his very endearing qualities. 

Harry turned out to be a quick study - as with quidditch, dancing, and the basic fighting techniques that Professor Moody and Tonks had begun teaching them both the previous afternoon, Harry picked up the basics of swimming rapidly and with ease once he got over his initial nervousness. Hermione was certain that he would outstrip her own skills within a matter of weeks; which was good, because the Second Task was now less than two months away. 

They were both startled when Tonks suddenly appeared while they were in the middle of a giggly water-fight, having lost track of the time. Hermione reddened and felt herself growing a bit warmer when she recognised the eagerly appraising glance that Tonks gave her, so much like the one that Fleur had given her when she had offered up the secret of the Golden Egg. The glance was briefly followed by a goofy flustered expression much like Harry’s before Tonks quickly recovered herself.

“Enjoy the nice hot water while it lasts,” chortled Tonks while Harry and Hermione dried off after clambering out of the pool. “If I know Mad Eye, he’ll be turning this into a mini-replica of the Black Lake in a few weeks.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” said Harry with a grin as he pulled on a t-shirt. “He turned the Room of Requirement into a dragon arena before the First Task.”

Tonks grinned when she spotted Hermione ready to take notes, quill in hand. Though she was slightly disappointed that Hermione had covered up in a fluffy bathrobe. Putting that thought aside quickly, Tonks launched into her lecture.

“Right then! Before we start, I should mention that you probably oughta keep this to yourself Harry. Sirius thinks it’ll be safer for you the less who know that you have this talent...”

Harry glanced at Hermione, slightly puzzled at that for a moment, but then it hit him. 

“Of course...” he gasped, “I might need to use it to avoid Voldemort...” 

“...or the Ministry,” Hermione concluded, her own eyes widening as the full value of being a metamorphmagus sank in.

“Yeah, precisely,” Tonks agreed, before going on. “Anyway, the lessons won’t really take that long - maybe half an hour at most - as you’ll mostly be practicin’ on your own time, Harry. But it’s very hard to control the morphing process at first until you get used to it, so don’t be surprised if nothing happens this lesson, alright?”

Harry nodded attentively, eager to begin.

“Now, some teachers will probably tell you to concentrate hard,” Tonks continued. “At least mine did, but I find that’s the opposite of what you want to do. What you really wanna do is form an image of how you want to look in your mind, but just allow your thoughts to sort of swim around it. If you try too hard, you’ll just push it away. 

“Once you ‘ave an idea of what you want to look like, it’s all just down to a lot of practice. It’s best to start out with something simple, like adding colour to a fingernail... But when you want to get more complex, and change loads of stuff, that’s when things get tricky.” 

Tonks gave Harry the opportunity to attempt to change the colour of one of his fingernails. After about ten minutes of wrinkling his nose and furrowing his brow in deep concentration he remembered what Tonks had said about not trying so hard. He did his best to just picture it in his head in a more relaxed state of mind, but relaxing had never been his strong suit.

Finally, Harry thought about how he felt when he was soaring on his Firebolt or kissing Hermione and was startled when the fingernail he was focusing on turned the same bubble-gum pink colour of Tonks’s hair.

“Brilliant Harry!” said Tonks with a hint of awe in her voice. “Most people supposedly take at least two lessons before they get one fingernail. I did it in about the same time as you, but my teacher told me I was a prodigy...”

Hermione beamed at Harry and gave him a hug. 

“It’ll stay that way until you undo it Harry,” said Tonks, “but to undo it is much easier as your body will always want to revert to its natural form. All you really ‘ave to do is just want it to go back to normal... 

“Just practice that for a couple of days. If you can manage to change one fingernail within a few seconds, try two, and then three, and so on, until you can manage to do ‘em all in a few seconds. Don’t try anything more advanced just yet, unless I’m around, alright? Promise me...”

“Yeah, okay Tonks... I promise,” Harry reluctantly agreed. Hermione raised her hand.

“I’m not a Professor, Hermione, but alright,” Tonks giggled. “What’s your question?”

“I was just thinking about transfiguring parts of the anatomy to animal forms, and I was wondering how functional some of the parts might be,” asked Hermione. 

“Well, that’s a bit far ahead,” Tonks replied, “but really, it all depends on how good the metamorphmagus is. A really good one can picture the internal structure necessary for functionality if they ‘ave access to a good image of how the cells all work. I suppose I could manage it if I gave it a go, but I’ve never really bothered with that myself.

“You’d ‘ave to be really brilliant at imaging it in your head, and be able to follow complicated diagrams. That goes for changin’ human gender too. It’s all cosmetic and superficial unless you can visualise all the internal bits.” 

“So what was that all about?” Harry asked Hermione after they had returned to their quarters to get ready for dinner.

“Well... I was thinking about how you might be able to breathe underwater, Harry. At _first_ I thought of Gillyweed, but there’s really no guarantee that it will last long enough for you to complete the task - it all depends on how much you eat, and the potency. So _then_ I thought that perhaps you could actually use your metamorphmagus abilities to develop functioning gills...

“It might be difficult, but well worth it - as you would be able to use either your lungs or gills as needed without having to worry about one interfering with the other, or having to worry about whether your gills would last for a long enough time... or for _**too**_ long - which could happen if you had too much Gillyweed.”

“That’s _**brilliant**_ Hermione!” Harry exclaimed excitedly, beaming at his genius wife. “But what about you though? You won’t be able to breathe underwater...”

“I’m not sure,” Hermione admitted ruefully. “I’ve looked through some of the books in the library, but I haven’t found anything else yet... but there _must_ be something - some sort of charm... 

“I’ll keep looking though,” she sighed. “In the meantime, we’d probably better study the physical appearance and the effects of Gillyweed anyway. Because if you’re going to keep being a metamorphmagus a secret, you’ll have to make it look like you’re using Gillyweed for the task.”

“That makes sense.” Harry nodded. “There’s another Hogsmeade Day coming up. We can buy some Gillyweed in the apothecary in the village. And as soon as Tonks thinks I’m ready enough, I can start practicing that...”

**~o0o~**

The next week flew by in a blur of activity, and Harry found that he was as busy as he had ever been at Hogwarts, even without a full quidditch schedule or studying for exams. But he hardly noticed as his excitement at the prospect of reaching his full potential as a metamorphmagus was only matched by his happiness at being able to return to his private chambers every night with Hermione.

Professor Moody was pleased to hear that Harry had a plan for breathing underwater at their next session, and with the assistance of Tonks he began training the Potters how to fight and cast spells underwater in the pool. Tonks was thrilled with Harry’s progress when he showed up with Hermione at his next metamorphmagus lesson, all of his fingernails - and toenails too - every colour of the rainbow. 

Harry was ready to move on to changing hair colour and skin tone as well, and then putting it all together. By the end of his second lesson, he’d managed to make himself as blond as Malfoy.

“Don’t forget to change your eyebrows too though,” Hermione giggled as she ruffled Harry’s platinum moptop. “You look really funny with light hair and dark eyebrows...”

The only thing that really marred the first week was the continued absence of Hagrid. Harry was hopeful that he’d find Hagrid in the village on Hogsmeade Day, and would be able to convince him to return. 

When Saturday arrived, the Potters left the castle and set off through the snow-covered grounds towards Hogsmeade. Tonks walked on ahead of them and kept her eyes peeled. Harry and Hermione both waved and grinned at Viktor Krum when they passed by the Black Lake. Dressed only in swimming trunks, Viktor waved back, then dove from the side of the Durmstrang ship into the frigid waters of the lake.

“Blimey! He’s bloody mad!” said Harry, his breath clouding in the freezing air. “There’s still ice over half the lake...”

“It’s probably warmer than where he’s from,” Hermione giggled. “Or at least warmer than wherever Durmstrang is located. I think it must be very far north...”

“Yeah... but there’s still the giant squid if we’re lucky,” said a familiar, rather hopeful sounding voice behind them, followed by a familiar sounding snigger.

Harry and Hermione whirled around and spotted Ron and Seamus trailing behind them. Harry scowled and Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“Just ignore them,” she said. “They’re just jealous because you’re Viktor’s friend, and because Lavender’s going out with him.”

Harry huffed angrily and began to walk a bit faster, trying to put some distance between him and Ron. He’d almost hoped the other day in Care of Magical Creatures that he might be able to patch things up with Ron eventually, but apparently Ron was still too bloody self-absorbed to put much effort in from his end of things. Hermione trotted along beside Harry, trying to keep up. 

Once in the village, Harry and Hermione made a beeline for the local apothecary, where Harry bought a substantial amount of Gillyweed. Not only for Harry’s practice though; they still hadn’t found anything else in the library which would allow Hermione to breathe underwater, and they had decided that she should keep a small pouch of it just in case she needed it.

They stopped for a bit in Honeydukes and Harry stocked up on some of their favourite sweets. In Zonko’s they spotted Fred and George whispering and taking notes; Neville and Dean were hanging out together nearby, seeming strangely listless. For a moment, Hermione thought that she and Harry had lost their “secret escort” Tonks as they made their way to Tomes and Scrolls for a browse; but when Tonks reappeared, scurrying breathlessly beside them with a bag of Zonko’s products, Hermione giggled. 

“Don’t you dare tell Filch,” Tonks hissed under her breath. Harry chortled at the idea of an Auror sneaking a bagful of banned items into Hogwarts.

Tonks hovered near the front of the bookshop, flicking through comics while Harry and Hermione had a good look around. Harry found an intriguing looking book about Asian monsters and magical creatures written by a Japanese wizard. It had information on several creatures including Yeti and Kappa which seemed to directly contradict _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , but it was much more detailed and Harry reckoned that a Japanese wizard probably ought to know a lot more about Asian monsters than someone from England.

He was puzzled by the Seventeen and Over warning on the cover, but he ignored it and put it in his shopping basket. Wondering what Wizard fairy tales would be like, Harry sidled into the children’s section where he found a book that looked like just the thing: _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. Into the basket it went, next to the book of Asian monsters.

Harry heard a squeak of happiness and looked up to see Hermione squeezing into the narrow aisle to find him.

“Look Harry - I found something that will work in this book...”

“Er... hang on - it’s in French,” said Harry, grinning at Hermione’s excitement.

“Oh... right! Sorry!” Hermione turned a bit pink. “It’s got some newer spells that don’t seem to have made it into the Hogwarts syllabus yet. There’s a spell in here that translates more or less into ‘Bubble-Head Charm.’ It’s perfect for breathing under water, Harry! 

“Well, perfect for me at least...” Hermione dropped her voice to a whisper. “You should probably stick with the plan though - the flippers will make swimming much easier and faster...”

“Excellent! ... Bung the book in the basket then, and I’ll buy it for us,” Harry responded eagerly. “Maybe you can translate some of the other spells as well, so that I can learn them too.”

“Of course I will Harry,” Hermione beamed.

The shopkeeper gave Harry an odd look when he rang up the book of Asian monsters and checked Harry’s wand on his scale, muttering something that sounded like “emancipated and married at your age?” under his breath and shaking his head. Harry, his face flushed with irritation, stood with Hermione and waited for a few more moments near the door while Tonks purchased a small stack of comics and glared at the shopkeeper as he rang her up.

“You know, you two really _aren’t_ the youngest who’ve ever got married,” Tonks muttered once they were outside the shop. “Back in the old days, some folk even got married as young as twelve and thirteen - when hitting puberty used to be considered the age of adulthood. Bein’ a teenager is a relatively modern invention...”

“It’s weird, I thought more students at Hogwarts would be having a go at me and Hermione,” said Harry, “but it seems like it’s mostly the grown-ups that get fussed about us being emancipated and married.”

“That’s because when you’re a teenager you want to be treated like an adult, and when you’re a grown-up, you want to forget what it’s like bein’ a teenager,” said Tonks wisely. “Me... I don’t care... I’m still just a teen at heart anyway.”

Tonks commiserated with the Potters for a few more minutes when a shop caught her eye. She whispered something in Hermione’s ear. Hermione reddened and giggled.

“I’ll be right back Harry,” said Hermione with a shy grin as Tonks led her towards the shop. 

Puzzled, Harry looked up at the name of the shop on the sign - Dezzie’s Delicates - and turned pink when he realised what they’d gone in to have a look at. Hermione was blushing furiously when she came back out of the shop clutching a bag, and couldn’t meet Harry’s eye for a while. 

The Potters both kept an eye out for Hagrid as they made their way through more shops - even the wizard supermarket - without any luck. Harry and Hermione eventually found themselves in the Three Broomsticks for lunch. Hagrid wasn’t there either, but Lavender and Parvati were. They both gave Harry and Hermione warm hugs and invited them to lunch together. 

Luna and Ginny, who were having a “girls’ day out,” waved at them from a table nearby where they were sitting and giggling. Harry grinned back at the two third year girls, now understanding why Neville and Dean had both seemed a bit put out when he’d seen them hanging out together in Zonko’s.

Tonks pulled up a seat at the bar and kept watch; her eyes narrowed when she spotted Rita Skeeter and her photographer ogling the Potters from the other end of the bar. Tonks spied Ludo Bagman in a shadowy corner of the pub with a load of goblins and rolled her eyes, knowing that he was either paying off a gambling debt, or putting a new bet down, or both at the same time.

Hermione had spotted Ludo Bagman too, and pointed him out to Harry. Bagman seemed to have just noticed that Harry was in the pub as well; he gave Harry a shady looking smirk as he pushed a bag full of something which clinked and jangled towards the goblins.

Bagman’s attention was caught by a pair of redheads who had just entered the pub. He sighed.

“Er... sorry about that business with the Leprechaun Gold at the World Cup, lads,” Bagman said quietly to the Weasley Twins as the satisfied goblins left the table. “My mistake... got it mixed up with my own... Here you go then, this should cover it...”

Fred goggled at George in happy surprise when Bagman shoved a bag of heavy coins into his hand and hurried quickly out of the Three Broomsticks before anyone else could try and collect from him. Harry grinned and gave the Twins a thumbs-up, having overheard the exchange. Lavender and Parvati giggled when Hermione gave the Twins a half-smile and shook her head. Hermione was glad that Fred and George had got their due, but felt that they’d been a bit reckless to gamble their entire life-savings to begin with. 

The grin slid from Harry’s face when the flash of a camera went off after the Weasley Twins had departed. When she saw who it was, Hermione turned livid.

“My, my, my, what a happy looking little gathering,” beamed Rita Skeeter, her eyes hungrily devouring the delicious scene of Harry sitting at a table with three girls.

Lavender and Parvati both shot daggers with their eyes at Skeeter. Hermione glared as the heavily made up reporter approached the table and Harry shot up from his chair furiously. 

“Come to make more trouble, have you?” Harry snarled. “Why can’t you just leave us all alone!” 

“You **_horrid_** woman!” Hermione shrilly snapped as she stood up next to Harry, trembling with rage. “You’ll do _**anything**_ for a story! It was bad enough that you went after Harry and me, but what did Hagrid and Lupin ever do to you?”

The whole pub was watching in silence now; Rosmerta stood behind the bar absentmindedly wiping a glass. Lavender and Parvati shrank back in their chairs.

“Now, now, deary,” said Skeeter, her voice hardening as her eyes glittered icily behind her bejeweled spectacles, “You shouldn’t talk about things a silly little muggleborn can’t possibly understand. It’s nothing personal - just a matter of looking after the public interest...”

“And what _‘public interest’_ are you serving right now then? We’re just trying to have some lunch in a pub!” Hermione fumed. 

Rita Skeeter’s eyes darted towards Harry and she smirked at him nastily.

“Come along,” she said to her photographer, tugging on his sleeve. “We’ve got enough for now.”  
As she turned to leave, Rita Skeeter stumbled and fell to the floor with a shriek. She peered angrily at her broken scarlet fingernail. Skeeter’s photographer helped her to her feet and she whirled around, glowering at the Potters and their friends, looking for signs of a wand. 

Harry looked back at Rita innocently and she stormed out of the pub. Tonks winked at Harry from the bar and surreptitiously slid her wand back into the sleeve of her parka.

“Sorry about all that,” said Harry, flushing guiltily at Parvati and Lavender who both still looked a bit frightened. “I can’t seem to avoid attracting attention...”

“It’s not your fault Harry,” Parvati said quickly. “You don’t have to apologise.”

“Rita Skeeter’s just absolutely horrible!” Lavender added with a firm nod.

Hermione looked as angry as Harry had ever seen her as they walked back up to the castle, perhaps as enraged as the time she’d broken Malfoy’s nose, or the time she’d lit into Ron after he’d gloated about Moody killing the spider. 

Harry was still furious himself - the way Rita Skeeter had sneered the word “muggleborn” at Hermione, she might as well have called her a Mudblood - but Harry’s anger was tempered by his feelings of guilt for having drawn Skeeter’s attention to begin with.

Hermione had had enough. She marched through the snow up to Hagrid’s cabin and began hammering on the door with both of her gloved little fists. Icicles fell from the eaves as the hut shook.

 **“HAGRID!”** she bellowed as Fang barked from the other side. **“COME OUT! ... WE KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE! ... WE DON’T CARE IF YOUR MUM WAS A GIANTESS! WE’RE YOUR FRIENDS! ... YOU CAN’T LET THAT LOATHESOME WOMAN DO THIS TO YOU! GET OUT HERE RIGHT NOW AND STAND UP FOR YOURSELF...”**

The door of Hagrid’s cabin swung open with a creak and Hermione tumbled backwards into Harry’s arms, shock and embarrassment all over her face at the sight of Dumbledore’s serene features gazing down at her...

**~o0o~**

Harry leaned back against the side of the marble bathtub, breathing in the soothing fragrance of the perfumed bath-oils and sighing in contentment as Hermione leaned back against him in his arms, foam and bubbles swirling around them as steam rose from the hot water. They both felt much better as the heat penetrated their bodies and their knotted muscles began to unwind.

The Potters had both been cheered that Dumbledore had refused to accept Hagrid’s resignation, and that Hagrid had finally relented and tearfully agreed to return to work after they both impressed on the half-giant how much they had missed him. But they were both still as tense as could be after they’d departed from Hagrid’s cabin.

Hermione had suggested a nice hot soak in the tub together, and Harry had readily agreed. But apparently Hermione had some other ideas for stress relief on her mind as well, and soon the kisses and caresses had become as steamy as the atmosphere in the bathroom. One thing had led to another, and washing each other’s backs had led to a watery romp.

They splashed about merrily, and surging bathwater spilled over the side of the tub. And when it was finished, Hermione showered her wet husband with little kisses as the tide of passion gradually ebbed, taking the tension of the day with it. She settled into Harry’s arms peaceably with a happy little sigh as he lay back against the side of the tub. 

Dazed as they both were in that moment, neither one of them noticed the ghostly head of a bespectacled teenage girl slipping back through the marble tiles of the bathroom wall.


	26. The Nereid, the Changeling, and the Siren

Harry swallowed nervously as he looked at Sirius’s nearly inscrutable features. Only the barest twitch at the corners of his godfather’s lips suggested any emotion, but Harry couldn’t be certain what it was. Lupin peered into the mirror over Sirius’s shoulder, his eyebrows raised.

“So when were you going to tell us Harry?” asked Sirius, sounding slightly strained, as if struggling to maintain an even tone. “I had to read it in the notification pages of the _Daily Prophet_ when Remus pointed it out to me - I never usually read those pages... And I still didn’t quite believe it until Mad Eye confirmed it for me...”

“I’m sorry!” Harry muttered, his face feeling hotter as he began to redden. “You’re not cross with me are you?”

“Only because I wasn’t invited to the bachelor party,” retorted Sirius, unable to maintain his composure any longer and breaking into a broad grin. Lupin smiled wryly and shook his head with a mild snort of amusement.

“It is not generally advisable to get married so young,” said Lupin, “but you were well within your rights to do so Harry. Congratulations to you and Hermione both.”

Harry let out a sigh of relief and grinned; Hermione beamed and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“I must say Harry, I am extremely impressed,” Sirius continued, awe in his voice and a look of pride on his face. “This rather beats any of James’s and my own youthful escapades at your age hollow. We were very big on rebellion... but Responsibility, not so much. _You’ve_ managed to demonstrate a large degree of _**both**_ in a single act - and you’re not even in Fifth Year yet. James and I didn’t really straighten out and begin to settle down till our Sixth and Seventh...”

“I just hope Hermione’s mum feels the same way,” said Harry, giving his wife a guilty look.

“She _**will**_ Harry! I’m certain of it,” Hermione reassured him, though a trace of concern flickered across her features, “I sent Hedwig with a letter telling Mum and Auntie Joanne all about it the day before yesterday. But you know how far Bournemouth is from Scotland... and with the latest snowstorm, it could be a few more days before she returns with a reply.”

“Don’t you two worry,” said Lupin kindly. “Sirius and I will get in contact with Jean straight away, and let her know how well you’re both doing. Your mother is very sensible and kindhearted Hermione... Sirius and I spoke with her at great length last month after Dumbledore contacted her. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Hermione beamed gratefully at Lupin, feeling a rush of relief.

“Anyway, we’ll let you two get on with things - I know how busy you are...” Sirius gave Harry a wink and another grin. “Tell my little cousin I said hello, won’t you?”

**~o0o~**

Tonks grinned when Harry passed on Sirius’s message to her.

“... _‘little’_ cousin, am I?” she chortled. “What... does he think I’m still six years old? Remind me to morph into one of those American Wrestlers and sit on him the next time I see him. We’ll see how little he thinks I am then.”

Harry and Hermione both had a good laugh at the idea of Tonks looking like a hairy three hundred and fifty pound man in a silly outfit sitting on top of Sirius.

“Right, well let’s see how you’re doin’ Harry,” Tonks went on after the giggles died down. But a new round of laughter was set off when Harry combined Dean Thomas’s skin tone with Malfoy’s hair colour and held up his hands to display Lavender’s sparkly mauve fingernails.

“That’s smashing Harry,” Tonks wheezed as she gasped for breath; Hermione was still giggling madly. “I reckon you’re ready to move on to the more complicated stuff now. You might as well start working on changing the shape of your nose, teeth size, and the length of your hair. Show me what you’ve got in a couple of days, and then we’ll move on to working on your entire facial structure...”

“I can’t wait,” said Harry, grinning. Tonks’ eyes flicked towards his lightning-bolt shaped scar briefly and she smiled sympathetically.

“I expect you’d like to hide that scar sometimes, wouldn’t you?” she said knowingly; Harry was hardly the attention-seeking tragedy-milking sort that Skeeter made him out to be, not that Tonks had ever thought he was.

“Yeah...” Harry sighed, giving his scar a quick rub, “I wouldn’t mind that at all actually.” 

Harry had always hated people staring at his scar, but at the moment, it wasn’t the first thing on his mind. Several days had passed since Harry had picked up the Gillyweed in the village apothecary, and sampled a teensy amount during the bath he’d had with Hermione - much to her delight - and he was eager to begin working out how to replicate its effects with his metamorphmagus talent.

If he could have, Harry would have spent all of his time practicing, but he and Hermione still had their regular classes to contend with as well; and the professors continued to pile on the work and impress upon their students the importance of preparing for their OWL’s which were approaching at the end of the following year. 

Harry didn’t mind working hard and studying - he was as eager as ever to learn as much as he could about magic - but he still had to work twice as hard as Hermione to achieve similar results in many classes. He wished again that he could read and write as fast as her, and retain the knowledge as readily as she did. Arithmancy in particular continued to be a struggle despite Hermione’s patient tutoring, and Harry was grateful that he was at least still managing to scrape by with barely passing marks. 

For her part, Hermione was thrilled with how well Harry was doing in school. Harry continued to match her in Potions, Ancient Runes, and Charms, and often exceeded her marks in Defence Against the Dark Arts. 

They were both very happy to have Hagrid back in Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid had continued the lessons with Unicorns, and he appeared to think that their horns made up a fair bit for their disappointing lack of fangs.

“I hope yeh were all payin’ attention ter Grubbly-Plank... she’s right on the mark abou’ how dangerous the adult Unicorns can be to mos’ lads,” Hagrid said cheerfully. “But the young uns _**might**_ letcha touch ‘em though, boys...”

“...if yer real quiet an’ calm like,” he added as an afterthought. 

Parvati and Lavender squeaked happily, and even Pansy Parkinson couldn’t conceal her delight when she saw the Unicorn foals that Hagrid had brought to class that day. Draco Malfoy had fumed when the Unicorn let Potter and the Mudblood touch it again, and seeing the Unicorn foals eating out of the palms of their hands was simply too much to bear. 

Daphne Greengrass - a pretty blonde haired Slytherin girl whom Draco had been eyeballing at the Yule Ball, much to Pansy’s dismay - was cuddling one of the foals. Draco smiled pompously, reckoning that he ought to do well with a foal that liked Greengrass. Putting all thoughts aside about the “girlyness” of Unicorns, Draco marched up to take a turn with the Unicorn foal.

The foal squealed when Draco drew near. Daphne looked up to see what had upset the foal and frowned warningly at Malfoy. Ignoring Greengrass’s look and the foal’s squeals, Draco kept approaching. The adult Unicorn snorted in alarm and strained at its bond at the sound of distress coming from one of its young. 

The tether broke free and the Unicorn charged at Draco, whinnying angrily. Malfoy’s face fell - eyes wide with terror, he ran for it, shrieking in a high pitched voice. Hagrid panicked when the row caught his attention.

“Bloody idiot’s gone an’ done it again,” he muttered furiously under his breath as he lunged for the galloping Unicorn. Hagrid only barely managed to catch it in time before it skewered Malfoy with its spiral horn. 

Some of the other students began laughing as Hagrid shut the furious Unicorn in the paddock. Draco shot Greengrass a malevolent glare. It was her fault for spooking the foal; he just knew it! Daphne shrank back and bit her lip. Uncertainty crossed her features and she trembled as she regarded Draco’s dangerous look - as if seeing him for the first time. She let out a sigh of relief when his attention turned back to the Unicorn which Hagrid was still trying to calm down.

 _ **“Bloody Rhinoceros!”**_ Draco spat venomously, “Crabbe, Goyle, let’s go... I’m done with this! We’re dropping this stupid class...”

Hagrid looked cheered, and a smattering of applause broke out among the Gryffindors at Malfoy’s proclamation. Though a few were mildly disappointed.

“Shame Hagrid caught it,” sighed Ron, a wistful expression on his face as he imagined Malfoy impaled and gored by the Unicorn. Seamus sniggered as Neville and Dean both nodded. 

Harry grinned at Ron, unable to bring himself to disagree. Despite a fleeting feeling of sympathy with Ron’s sentiments, Hermione was quite thankful, as she was certain that Hagrid would have been unable to avoid being sacked this time. But she kept that thought to herself, sensing Harry’s need to just enjoy the moment.

A few days after Harry and Hermione had spoken with Sirius and Lupin, Hedwig finally returned with a reply from Hermione’s mother. Hermione buttered a crumpet for Hedwig and glanced nervously at Harry, who was peering anxiously over her shoulder at the envelope. The exhausted and cold snowy owl gratefully gobbled the crumpet and several pieces of bacon before flying off for a well deserved nap.

Fortunately it was Saturday morning, and the Potters didn’t have to worry about classes. As soon as breakfast was finished, Harry and Hermione hurried back to their private chambers where they found Hedwig settling in on top of the wardrobe and Crookshanks purring as he curled his bushy tail around her.

Hermione took a deep breath to steel herself, but her hands still trembled slightly as she carefully undid the envelope. Harry’s heart was thumping so loudly, he was sure that Hermione could hear it. A flowery card was enclosed with a letter folded inside. Hermione unfolded the letter and Harry peered over her shoulder as she began to read, both of them blushing furiously at the awkward bits.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Congratulations darling! Your aunt and I are both so happy for you! To be perfectly honest, though I’m a bit surprised that Harry asked you to marry him, I’m not at all surprised that you said yes as I already knew how much you love him. It is quite rare to find a sexually mature young man of Harry’s age who is willing to settle down and bear the responsibility of a commitment such as marriage._

_Indeed, many men twice his age or more quail at the very thought of marriage, stuck as they are in a state of eternal adolescence - set on playing the field for as long as they have seed to sow. Conversely, some boys of his age have barely yet begun to understand their adolescent urges, much less consider marriage a valid option in which to explore them..._

“Erm... you didn’t tell your mum that you were going to share this letter with me, did you?” groaned Harry, his beet-red face scrunched up with embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry Harry,” Hermione squeaked, equally appalled at the brutally frank nature of her mother’s reply. “I should have known... Mum was always quite up front about these sorts of things. She sat me down for a discussion and gave me a book about sex and puberty a few months after we got my Hogwarts letter - anyway there’s more...”

Harry closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm himself before he read on.

_...Of course, I am quite aware that with Harry it is **so** much more than that. Having seen you both together, it was more than apparent to me how dear you are to him, and that he loves you very much. _

_Indeed, I had quite hoped that one day he would realise just how very special you are and ask you to marry him. I just hadn’t expected it to be quite so soon, though I probably ought to have had an inkling, given the rare levels of maturity he exhibits and how accomplished he already is for his age._

_And please don’t fret or think that I might be put out by you being married at your age. Your Great-Aunt Gertrude was married at fifteen to a seventeen year old boy - your Great-Uncle Alfie - and they spent their entire lives happily together. I am just thrilled that you have found such a suitable and intelligent companion, as well as one as kind and brave as Harry is. And I couldn’t be more happy to know that you have found someone who **truly** respects your intellect - someone who doesn’t feel threatened by it or put you down for it, as some men are so wont to behave badly towards intelligent women. _

_I’m sorry to inject a slightly sour note into this letter, but I continue to hold out some hope that one day your father eventually comes to feel the same way as I do. Obviously, given things as they currently stand, the news of your nuptials would be too much for him to bear at the moment._

_The only slight disappointment I might have beyond that, is that I wasn’t able to attend. But please don’t mind that. You explained very thoroughly the circumstances of the situation, and I quite understand. Remus and Sirius were also both dears, and very forthcoming when they visited your aunt and me shortly before Hedwig arrived with your letter. They took us both to dinner and we all shared a toast in your and Harry’s honour._

_Perhaps one day, when you have finished school and things have settled down a bit, you and Harry might like to renew your vows among family and friends. But in the meantime, I and your aunt are just as happy to have a small celebration with you and Harry and his godfathers when we next meet - perhaps at Easter._

_Please give Harry my best - and your aunt’s - and be sure to let him know that he has our full blessing and that we love him and that we are delighted for him to be a part of our family._

_Love Always,  
Mum_

Hermione squealed with happiness when she finished the letter and began peppering Harry with little kisses.

“See Harry! I _**told**_ you she would understand!” she squeaked joyfully. 

The flush of embarrassment faded in the giddy flood of relief that rushed through Harry’s veins. He beamed from ear to ear as he embraced his wife and returned every kiss.

“Easter at home then?” he said with a grin.

**~o0o~**

In his free time, Harry spent every moment he could with Hermione researching things which might be helpful for the Second Task. He pored over his Third Year notes regarding Grindylow and other creatures which might likely be found in the Black Lake. And he went back over his report and his notes on Runes to ward against dangerous magical creatures, rereading the relevant portions of his books for that class.

Every moment he wasn’t swimming, training with Moody or Tonks, or studying for his other classes, Harry spent in the library looking in books with Hermione and taking more notes. When Hermione returned from the dusty unused section of muggle reference books, she found Harry hunched in a library chair with his head buried in a book of Mermish.

“Why are you looking in that Harry?”

“Well, I don’t think a few runes saying ‘Merpeople friend’ is going to cut it this time if I run into trouble with them,” Harry muttered, frowning. “But Mermish looks bloody complicated. There’s no way I can learn it in time.”

“You really shouldn’t have to Harry,” said Hermione reasonably. “Some of them must know how to speak English - or else they wouldn’t have been able to sing that song so that you’d understand it under water.” 

“Yeah, I suppose...” Harry didn’t look entirely convinced. “But what if most of them don’t speak much English, and I need to talk my way out of a sticky situation? They’d understand me better if I could speak _their_ language, wouldn’t they?”

Hermione rather thought Harry had a good point. She bit her lip as her brow furrowed pensively.

“Well...” she began tentatively, “runes are sort of a magical language themselves. Maybe there’s a set that would work as a ‘universal translator’ of sorts - something that would allow you to hear what they’re saying in English, and allow them to hear what you’re saying in Mermish. If not, there might be a charm which does much the same thing.”

“Brilliant! Thanks Hermione,” Harry beamed. “I’ll start researching that then. What’ve you found there?”

“Oh... erm, just some books on human anatomy and ichthyology...”

“Ickthy-what?”

“Ichthyology... the study of fish. I thought it would help to look up gill cell-structures and compare them with the cell structure of human lungs...”

Harry rubbed at his forehead and raised his eyebrows, beginning to wonder if he wouldn’t just be better off learning the Bubble-Head Charm and being done with it.

**~o0o~**

They were supposed to be practicing Banishing Charms, the opposite of Summoning Charms, but as Harry and Hermione had both managed it quite well in the first ten minutes of class, they spent a bit of time helping Neville. His spellwork had improved considerably since getting his new wand, but Neville’s aim was dreadful, and after a while, the Potters left him to practice with Dean.

“Just keep practicing Neville... You’ll get the hang of it eventually,” said Harry encouragingly.

The sound of a small explosion caught everyone’s attention. Feathers filled the classroom and Ron’s face looked a bit scorched. Seamus had managed to blow up the cushion he was banishing towards Ron. 

“You’re doing much better than Ron and Seamus in any case,” said Hermione. “At least the things you’re banishing aren’t exploding.”

“Lucky for Flitwick...” Neville muttered as he glanced at the tiny Charms professor who still looked a bit dazed after Neville had sent him flying across the room instead of the cushion that he had been trying to aim at.

Left to themselves, Harry and Hermione both continued working on research for the Second Task. Hermione looked at the book on fish anatomy while Harry began flicking through fifth, sixth, and seventh year Charms books for something to help him speak and understand Mermish. He was beginning to feel a bit panicky about it, because he’d been through all the Runes books in the library that he could find, and many of the Charms books in the library as well, but still hadn’t come across anything helpful.

Professor Flitwick had recovered from his flight across the classroom when he noticed that Harry was reading an unassigned book in class. At first he tried to take away five points from Gryffindor, then he tried to add fifteen points when he discovered that Harry was reading a seventh year Charms book instead of his fourth year Charms book.

For a few moments, Flitwick couldn’t comprehend why his points taking and giving spells weren’t working. Then he finally remembered that Harry Potter was married and no longer bound by the House system. He gave a little cough to catch Harry’s attention.

“Well Potter, I’m very pleased that you’re reading so far ahead,” the diminutive professor squeaked, “but you appear to be a bit lost. Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

“I... er... I’m not sure if you’re allowed to assist me, sir,” Harry responded with a pained expression, “I’m looking for something to help me in the Second Task.”

“ _Nonsense_ Potter! Of course I can help guide you in the right direction. I just can’t do your work for you. You’ll have to do all the research without my help, but I can certainly point you to the correct resources. What is it you’re looking for?”

Harry scratched his head before remembering the term that Hermione had used.

“Erm... a ‘Universal Translator’ spell sir. I may need to talk to Merpeople, and there’s not enough time to learn a whole language.”

“Oho, it’s no wonder you can’t find it in a standard school text-book then - as it could potentially be used for cheating in a magical language elective class... Nor will you find such a spell in a standard Charms book in the library. That’s highly advanced, specialised magic which can only be found in the Restricted Section. In any case, there is no single Translation Charm which will work for all languages. 

“Each language or closely related language group has a specific charm. Try _Linguistic Legerdemain by Reddo Semanticus_. I’ll give you a permission slip for the Restricted Section of the library. You ought to find a good charm in that book which will work for Mermish that you can cast upon yourself. The spells are quite complex, but they are lasting, and must be removed with a counterspell...” 

Professor Flitwick paused, his features becoming distraught and uncertain when it struck him that the difficulty of translation spells made them ill-suited for casual use; they were usually reserved for extreme situations. But his professorial nature compelled him to continue; Potter deserved to know everything.

“Translation spells are generally used for negotiations after...well... ahem... usually after diplomats have been killed in war or in civil strife between ethnic groups who speak different languages. Good on you for taking all potentialities into consideration Potter - only a few Merfolk speak English well enough to carry a full conversation - and even then, only when they are fully submerged.” 

Hermione took one look at the Mermish Translation Charm after Harry checked the book out from the Restricted Section and knew that Harry didn’t have time to learn it with everything else he had to deal with at the moment. He had more than enough to be getting on with as it was.

“Leave this to me Harry...” she said earnestly.

“Wait,” Harry interjected, frowning, “are you sure about this Hermione?”

“Yes Harry! You need to keep your focus on practicing the fighting spells and the hand to hand training, and doing it all underwater, not to mention your metamorphmagus training - and the rest of your schoolwork... I’ll learn this spell and cast it on both of us the afternoon before the Second Task.” 

Harry sighed, knowing that Hermione was probably right. Hermione bit her lip in consternation; she could see Harry struggling to accept that he’d have to give up learning the spell for now, and that he was feeling inadequate.

“Harry... it’s alright!” she tried to reassure him. “I _know_ you could learn the spell if you had the time, but there’s barely more than a month left before the Second Task now. If you _really_ want to learn it, I can help you work it out after - but there’re more important things for you to focus on right now to be ready in time. It’s just a matter of prioritising and division of labour...

“And just remember, _**you**_ were the one who was smart enough to consider the possibility that you might need to be able to speak Mermish to begin with.” 

Harry peered at his wife gratefully, feeling a bit better about things. He took Hermione in his arms and kissed her forehead.

“Thanks Hermione! I dunno what I’d do without you...”

Hermione had been right. Harry did have loads of work to be getting on with - they both did really. Harry’s swimming was at least as good as Hermione’s now, which was much better than Hermione gave herself credit for. Professor Moody had been teaching them some more spells such as the explosive Bombarda, and the Reductor curse - a disintegration spell - as well as continuing to train them to fight underwater. And Moody encouraged Harry to continue reviewing spells he’d learned during his first three and a half years at Hogwarts - especially releasing, repulsing, and severing spells.

“...You don’t wanna get tangled in water-weeds,” the battle-hardened ex-Auror had said, “and don’t be afraid to use the more dangerous spells against creatures if you find yourself in a fight for your life, Potter...”

Professor Moody had indeed turned the swimming pool into a mini-version of the Black Lake, and the water was like ice. The Gillyweed supply began to dwindle as Harry was using it to stay submerged for the duration of their lessons now, while Hermione was making good use of the Bubble-Head Charm. But he was nearly at the point of his metamorphmagus training with Tonks to begin trying to mimic the effects of the magical Mediterranean water-plant.

He’d had to start using a mirror to practice as he advanced to more complex changes, adjusting musculature, bone structure, and hair and skin colour all at once. By the end of one of his previous lessons he’d managed a rather disturbing blend of his own and Hermione’s features. Tonks and Hermione had roared with laughter and had to hold their sides to keep from getting stitches. Tonks had laughed so hard that she fell over backwards, but Hermione caught her before she could hurt herself.

“Merlin, Harry!” Tonks gasped for breath, “That’s ‘orrible - I mean, Well Done for changin’ your features - it’s just a ghastly look. Just keep practicing and soon Hermione will have a twin.”

Seeing the gleam in Harry’s eyes set Tonks off again. By the time she had calmed into chortles she admonished him.

“Mind you Harry, don’t forget you’re not to try anything but changin’ your face just yet, alright?”

When Harry had perfected the ability to alter his facial features, Tonks had deemed him ready to begin adjusting the rest of his anatomy. He had been practicing hard, and at his most recent lesson, he knew he was finally ready to begin replicating the effects of Gillyweed. 

Before Tonks’ and Hermione’s eyes, Harry’s face morphed into a perfect replica of Hermione; his hair lengthened and curled into her tawny-brown ringlets; his already slight build slimmed and his angles curved, two round bumps on his chest swelling in just the right place. Hermione couldn’t help giggling and she gave Harry a little shove when she saw his chest bulging.

Tonks got a little tingly feeling when she saw Hermione practically twinned.

“Erm... that’s as far as I’ve got so far,” the fake Hermione grinned. “I’m not really sure how to... er... you know - the _**other**_ bit,” he concluded awkwardly as he glanced downwards, turning slightly pink.

Hermione and Tonks both burst out laughing.

“Never mind! That’s brilliant for now... If you want Harry, you can practice _that_ next,” Tonks chortled. “You don’t ‘ave to show me though. Hermione can tell me how it looks.”

Tonks’s comment sent all of them into a paroxysm of giggles.

“Actually, I’m going to start working on Gillyweed gills and flippers, Tonks,” the red-faced Harry-Hermione responded when he finally caught his breath, “I want to be prepared for the Second Task, and I think making the gills work properly is going to take all of my effort over the next few weeks.”

Tonks nodded approvingly, “Of course Harry! That’s what you’ve been working towards, and you’re definitely ready for it.”

The next morning it was the weekend again. There were only patches of snow left on the Hogwarts Grounds as the first week of February ended in rain. After breakfast, the Potters returned to their quarters. Hermione pulled out her notes and pages meticulously copied from the books she had been reading as they sat together on the settee by the crackling fire in the hearth.

“These are the images of the gill-structures that you’ll need Harry,” Hermione began as she launched into the explanation with her “school-teacher” tone of voice. “It won’t be as difficult as I thought it would be. At first I _thought_ you’d need special fish cells, but apparently fish gill cells for extracting oxygen and transferring it to the capillaries aren’t much different than those in our lungs - they just arrange them differently, in layers of epithelium instead of internal alveoli...”

Harry’s eyebrows had shot up, disappearing under his messy black fringe at _“won’t be as difficult as I thought,”_ and his brain had gone a bit fuzzy when he heard the words _“epithelium”_ and _“alveoli,”_ though he was quite certain that he knew what capillaries were. Hermione saw his expression and blanched slightly, realising that she’d lost him already.

Then Hermione blushed, reminding herself that Harry was a very visual learner. As long as he could picture it, he could do it, and with enough verbal association he would pick up the correct terminology with ease. But he had to be able to create a visual framework in his mind first to hang the words on. 

“Sorry Harry...” she said with a sheepish smile, “don’t worry about anything I just said right now. All you need to do is picture these gill cell-structures at the same time as you’re visualising the overall cosmetic form while you’re transforming. I suppose that _**will**_ be quite difficult to do - hold more than one image in your mind at a time I mean.”

Harry nodded and smiled at Hermione. _That,_ he understood right off the mark. He cupped his surprised wife’s chin with one hand and kissed her tenderly, his other hand curling around her waist. Hermione’s own brain went a little fuzzy. She gave him a puzzled look when Harry had finished kissing her.

“What was that for? Not that I minded of course....” she said breathlessly, her lips still tingling.

“For just being you... No apologies necessary Hermione. You’re _**brilliant,**_ and I wouldn’t have you any other way. I’ve told you before that I _**like**_ it when you go into lecture mode. You always get around to showing me what you’re on about eventually, and then I can work out what you just said even if I didn’t quite understand some of it the first time through.”

The parchments fell from Hermione’s hands as she melted in Harry’s iridescent green eyes and she pulled him into a heated passionate kiss, all work forgotten for the next few hours as their caresses began to roam...

**~o0o~**

Harry and Hermione made their way to breakfast the morning of the day before the Second Task. Tonks had already entered the Great Hall when the Potters heard raised voices nearby. They halted near the bottom of the marble stairs to peer over the bannister and listen.

“I said leave me _alone_ Draco! Don’t touch me...” 

“Look, I’m sorry alright... I didn’t mean it Daphne!”

“I don’t want anything to do with you anymore,” Daphne Greengrass snapped icily. “I don't want you anywhere near me! Why can’t you get that through your thick head?”

“It was just that stupid Unicorn... I was angry...”

“Unicorns know the difference between a good person and a rotten one, Draco...”

“That’s bloody rubbish...” Draco began to fume as he struggled to maintain his composure, “It was because I’m a boy...”

“Well the foals seemed alright with Longbottom and Dean Thomas, and the adult Unicorn seemed to like Potter well enough...”

 _ **“Potter?”**_ snarled Draco, “That... that _**blood-traitor?**_ I suppose you like him better than me too then, do you? Well too bad for you _**Greengrass...**_ he’s already married to a _**Mudblood!”**_ he sneered viciously as he forcefully grabbed her arm.

“Get your hands _**off**_ me... Let _**go!**_ You're hurting me!”

Harry’s blood was boiling now and he stepped off the bottom step of the stairs, facing the doorway leading from the dungeons, his hand under his robes near his wand holster. Hermione anxiously followed, hoping there wasn’t going to be a fight.

“You heard the lady...” said Harry, his chilly tone belying the heat rushing through his veins. “Let go of her, Malfoy!”

Malfoy froze, glaring at Harry. 

“Stay out of it Potter!” said Malfoy, finding his voice, “This is none of your business!”

“Bullies and creeps _**are**_ my business,” Harry retorted, staring Malfoy down. Draco’s pallid cheeks flushed angrily, his hand twitching towards his own wand.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Daphne yanked her arm free of Draco’s hard grip and ran past Harry and Hermione into the Great Hall, unable to meet their eyes. Hermione bit her lip, her own eyes stinging when she caught Daphne wiping tears away on the sleeve of her robes before she passed out of sight. 

Malfoy considered his options. He badly wanted to Cruciate Potter - having practiced the curse on rodents that Crabbe and Goyle had trapped for that very purpose. But he knew that he couldn’t get away with the use of an Unforgivable as long as Dumbledore was still in charge of Hogwarts. 

There were other spells of course, but the risk of confiscation of his wand if he used it outside of class wasn’t worth it if he was caught, and he had just spotted the French Champion standing by the front doors of the castle with her little sister, watching the scene coldly. Furiously, Draco strode by the Potters, glowering at Harry the entire time.

“Good luck on the Second Task tomorrow, Potter,” he hissed insincerely, “You’ll need it!”

Harry let out a sigh of relief as the tension drained once Malfoy was gone. He and Hermione turned to enter the Great Hall and spied Tonks hovering in the doorway, her spiky hair - neon red today - seeming to fluoresce. 

“How long were you there for?” Harry asked, swallowing guiltily, not sure if she would approve of him nearly getting in a fight with Malfoy.

“Long enough Harry,” Tonks replied, looking oddly pleased. “I’d’ve stepped in if it got out of hand. But good for you... standin’ up to that loathsome little pillock like that.”

As Harry and Hermione sat down to breakfast, they glanced at the Slytherin table. Daphne was sitting at the far end of the table with the First and Second Years, near a young girl who looked much like her, and Draco had settled in his usual spot, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy Parkinson looked confused, seemingly torn between being disgruntled and cheered.

“What’s going on?” whispered Parvati; Lavender peered at Harry and Hermione questioningly.

“Draco was harassing Daphne Greengrass and Harry put a stop to it,” Hermione answered, feeling a swell of pride in her husband.

“Zat was vairy brave of you ‘Arry Potter,” said Fleur Delacour quietly as she walked by the table, catching the attention of the Gryffindors. Hermione beamed at her, flushing slightly when Fleur batted her silvery eyelashes and returned her smile warmly.

Fleur had entered the Great Hall with her sister, just behind the Potters, and she almost had a glow about her. Tonks seemed as captivated by the French beauty as did most of the boys at the Gryffindor table. Fleur caught the look, and blushed, glancing at Tonks’ radiant hair.

“...I’m telling you, she’s a Veela,” Ron was saying to everyone in earshot once Fleur had passed by and settled in at the Ravenclaw table next to Luna and Padma with her sister. 

Seamus half shrugged and half nodded wearily, as if Ron had just told him for the thousandth time. Neville, Dean, the Creevey brothers, and the Twins seemed to be in agreement with Ron and still had expressions as goofy as Ron’s on their faces. Ginny rolled her eyes, but she had a slightly put out look on her face when she spotted Luna listening intently to Fleur’s recounting of the events she had just witnessed. 

During breakfast, it took Harry very little argument to convince Hermione that they both needed to ditch classes for last minute preparations. 

“...and it almost seemed like Malfoy knows something we don’t,” Harry muttered. “How much do you want to bet that his father has something planned to make things even more difficult for me in this task?” 

“Yes, I think you’re right Harry, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Ludo Bagman has something up his sleeve - Mr Malfoy could be giving him the gold to pay off his gambling debts - or the Minister herself could be giving him the money from the Ministry’s coffers...” Hermione whispered back, frowning. 

“...or passing along Mr Malfoy’s bribes, especially if they’re all in on it together,” Harry finished, nodding, his face darkening as he considered all of the worst permutations of the possibilities.

“I’ll just pop up to the Staff-table and get permission from Professor McGonagall to take the day off then,” said Hermione.

Professor McGonagall had needed as little convincing as Hermione had herself. Harry watched the oft strict professor - who would under most circumstances balk at the idea of students skiving off from classes - nodding in agreement with his wife as they spoke briefly in hushed tones at the Staff-table. When McGonagall caught Harry’s eye, he recognised the same worried look she’d had when she had escorted him and Hermione to the Champions’ tent the day of the First Task. 

The Potters both gradually relaxed a bit as they made their way back upstairs after breakfast.

“Erm... Perhaps... er... could you take off your blouse, Hermione? Please?” Harry asked when they returned to their quarters. Hermione peered at Harry in puzzlement. It was obvious that Harry wasn’t making an overture. Harry couldn’t help grinning at Hermione’s consternation as he opened a drawer and found his magical tattoo ink and ink brushes.

“Sorry Hermione... I forgot to tell you - I’m going to paint a couple of runes on you to protect you from the cold and ward off the Grindylows - the lake is going to be bloody freezing, and I think the Merpeople are going to be enough trouble without us having to deal with Grindylows too. I’m going to put the same runes on myself... I’m not too worried about the Giant Squid though - according to the Creeveys, it’s alright.”

Hermione gulped anxiously and nodded. “Th...thanks Harry. I didn’t think about that.”

“No worries Hermione,” Harry replied gently. “We’ve both been working hard on trying to figure this out, and focused on different bits. Thanks for teaching me how to swim and helping me with the gills and metamorphing, not to mention practicing all the spells with me... I couldn’t have done this without you...”

“I’ll cast the Mermish Translation Charm on both of us now too,” said Hermione.

After running down a checklist and going over their notes one last time until lunchtime, the Potters decided that they were as ready as they were ever going to be. They took the rest of the afternoon off to try and relax, snuggling on their settee and drinking cocoa in front of the fire 

Lavender and Parvati hugged Hermione when the Potters arrived for dinner, both of them looking worried. Ginny and Neville both looked pleased when Luna joined them at the Gryffindor table too that evening. Fleur sat at the Ravenclaw table with her sister and their mother who had arrived that morning to watch the Second Task. Krum and Lavender were nowhere in sight, nor were Cedric and Cho, and Harry supposed that they were spending as much time alone together as they could before the Merpeople took Lavender and Cho.

As dinner concluded, a very grim-faced McGonagall approached their table.

“Good luck Hermione,” Luna whispered, giving her a hug, 

“Harry will find you tomorrow... I know he will,” said Tonks, smiling reassuringly at Hermione.

Harry embraced his wife one last time and kissed her forehead before watching Professor McGonagall lead her away with an ache in his gut.

Harry walked back to his quarters glumly. He didn’t know how he was going to sleep that night without Hermione next to him. Tonks silently kept pace beside him until they reached their corridor.

“Here you go Harry,” said Tonks, giving him a sad little smile as she passed him two vials. “From Pomfrey... One’s a calming draught for right now, and the other’s a sleeping draught for a bit later. Please take them. I’ll be sure to wake you on time tomorrow.”

Harry peered gratefully at Tonks, wondering if this was what it might feel like to have an older sister.

“Y...yeah - okay... I will,” he said hoarsely. “Thanks Tonks!”

“Oi, Harry...” Tonks suddenly wrapped her arms around him and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Call me Dora from now on... alright? You and Hermione both!” 

As Harry settled into bed that night, his scar throbbed and burned for the first time in two months. He knew it wouldn’t be half as bad if Hermione were snuggled beside him. He could almost sense Voldemort’s eager anticipation to discover the outcome of the Second Task. He peered at the vial of sleeping draught thankfully before downing it in a single gulp, hoping it would keep the Nightmares at bay.

**~o0o~**

When he woke early the next morning, Harry headed to the bathroom and appraised himself in the mirror for a few minutes before dressing. He stepped out of his pyjama bottoms and tugged on his black swimming trunks. He strapped his wand holster around his waist.

Then, taking several deep breaths, Harry traced the runes on his chest with his fingers before pulling on a thick black t-shirt and covering them. Finally, he dressed warmly and stowed a pouch of Gillyweed in his robes before he retired to the sitting room, staring anxiously at the fire as he waited for Dora to collect him.

The minutes ticked by until Dora knocked on the oak door of the Potters’ private chambers. She and Harry made their way to the Great Hall, but there was no question about eating breakfast - it simply wasn’t happening for Harry. He glanced at the other tables and saw that Viktor, Cedric, and Fleur were peering at their own plates just as gloomily. None of them were hungry.

Harry glanced at the Staff-table and saw Dumbledore looking almost calm by most measures, but Harry knew by the lack of twinkles that the headmaster was worried. He caught Snape staring at him with an almost sorrowful expression and the Potions Master quickly looked away, his walls slamming shut once more. 

Hagrid tried to give Harry an encouraging smile, but it was stiffer than usual. Pomfrey and McGonagall both looked fit to be tied; Flitwick gave him a small nod and a smile as stiff as Hagrid’s. Professor Babbling beamed at Harry, projecting an air of certainty that was undoubtedly tempered by hidden anxiety.

The Champions waited patiently for everyone else to finish breakfast, and were finally led to the platform perched at the end of a new pier on the lake. A few geese honked as they flew above; Harry peered up to see puffy white clouds scudding across the brightest sky that he had seen in some weeks.

The murmur of a crowd could be heard as hundreds of visitors as well as students filled the stands at the edge of the lake - many times more wizards than there had been at the First Task. Harry looked back and shook his head, wondering what everyone expected to see under the surface of the Black Lake. He supposed Sirius and Lupin had decided to stay at home to avoid causing an uproar after the article Skeeter had written about Hagrid and Lupin, especially as it was near the full moon.

Harry caught Percy’s eye, who was sitting in Crouch’s place among the other judges, and felt a knot of anger at his disapproving stare. It suddenly, finally hit home to Harry that Percy was now working directly for Minister Umbridge - a close friend of the Malfoys - along with everything that implied about Percy’s loyalties since he’d become a part of the Ministry. 

Percy’s apparent attitude shift towards Harry and Hermione - and even Dumbledore - since the World Cup now made a lot more sense. The smug look that Bagman was giving Harry didn’t improve his mood. Only the warm smile of Professor Dumbledore gave Harry any comfort at all. 

Standing on the platform, the four Champions removed their outer garments when the judges indicated it was nearly time. Fleur knotted her platinum hair under a swimming cap and strapped it under her chin. She wore a tight-fitted powder blue wetsuit. Harry frowned when he heard a lecherous chorus of whoops, wolf-whistles and cat-calls from Fleur’s admirers in the stands. 

For a moment, Harry saw a look in her eye which reminded him of how he felt when people stared at his scar, but then she seemingly managed to push it aside and smiled brightly at Harry. Feeling a bit more cheered, he returned the smile as best he could. 

Viktor stood stiffly in his black swimming trunks and a burgundy t-shirt, his face stony; he caught Harry’s eye and grimaced, giving him a single nod. Cedric fidgeted and jostled in place in his black and gold wetsuit as he glanced about at the other Champions nervously. Finally, a shrill whistle sounded in the biting chill of the morning air, echoing across the lake.

Cedric and Viktor dove into the lake head-first. Fleur and Harry shared one last look before she plunged in after them. Harry took a huge swipe of Gillyweed, making certain that all of the judges could see him stuffing it in his mouth, and he followed after the other three Champions. Once Harry was several metres under the shimmering surface of the lake, he spat out the Gillyweed and morphed into the form he needed.

He gulped the icy-cold water of the lake, and felt the sense of exhilaration which came from getting a rush of oxygen to the brain. Harry dove deeper into the forests of black and pale green water-weeds, propelled rapidly beyond the reach of the sun by his flipper-like feet and webbed hands. He lit his wand so that he could see through the murk. Harry undulated through the dense underwater foliage keeping a vigilant eye out all around him, heading for the centre of the lake where he surmised the Merpeople would have an underwater town of some sort.

Harry passed by some rotting black logs and a sunken fishing vessel, before emerging into a field of aquatic grasses. His eyes darted across the plain, still seeing nothing. Harry sensed several ripples moving against the current and he whirled around to spy a large swarm of Grindylow approaching, their razor sharp teeth bared as they stretched their spindly fingers towards him. When they got within several metres of Harry, their glittering black eyes widened in terror and they let out a high-pitched series of chitters as they fled. 

There was a pale green forest of delicate looking fronds up ahead. As Harry swam through it he felt something grasp his ankle. His heart thudding wildly, Harry flipped over and kicked out. A bubble emerged from his mouth when he gasped in surprise, discerning a greenish humanoid figure rolling backwards. It looked much less like the scaly monkey in _Fantastic Beasts_ , and much more like the human-ish turtle-like figures he’d seen in the book of Asian monsters and magical creatures. 

But what on earth would Kappa - Japanese magical creatures - be doing in a Scottish lake? Even odder, they appeared to bristling with weapons. It made no sense to him - unless this was one of the surprises intended for Harry alone which he and Hermione had surmised might be waiting for him. Three more Kappa swam rapidly towards Harry, flinging some small spinning objects at him which glinted in his wand-light.

Harry only barely managed to dodge most of the objects, and when one sliced through the skin of his forearm, he recognised them from one of the Ninja movies he’d seen at the martial-arts film festival that Sirius and Lupin had taken him and Hermione to see. The Kappa clearly meant to kill him, and he just hoped that the throwing stars hadn’t been poisoned. Harry darted behind a boulder as a rush of adrenaline flooded through him, overwhelming his brief moment of panic.

 

Gills flaring, Harry emerged from the other side of the boulder and shot a Bombarda spell into the midst of the Kappa, knocking out two of them. Harry fled into the pale-green forest with one Kappa following close behind, but the other had disappeared. Harry spied another wreck and darted in one side and out the other. The Kappa swam by him and he caught it by surprise with a Stunner that glanced off its shell. 

The Kappa spun around, whipping out a pair of deadly looking sais, and Harry knew this was a moment that Mad Eye had prepared him for - a moment which called for the sort of drastic measures that made Harry sick to his stomach.

Harry silently slashed his wand twice, aiming carefully, and the Kappa’s hands drifted in a cloud of dark green blood. The sais sank into the sediment of the lake floor. An echoey shrieking sound of agony rippled through the water and hit Harry’s ears as he swam off leaving the howling Kappa behind waving two stumps, wondering desperately where the other Kappa was.

Only Harry’s alertness to the shifting currents saved him from being cut in half by the Katana which suddenly sliced through the water and slit a hole in his t-shirt as he flung himself out of the way. Harry’s other senses had thankfully detected that which he couldn't see. The Kappa’s concealment charm slipped as it furiously charged at Harry and slashed its gleaming sword again.

The sword sank into the side of the second wreck as Harry barely escaped its blow. The moment it took for the Kappa to yank the blade from the plank it had bitten into was the opportunity Harry needed to strike, and for the second time Harry silently slashed his wand twice, utilising the Diffindo spell against a living being. The wailing Kappa was now as handless as his colleague. 

As angry as he was about a deliberate assassination attempt, and even though Harry knew that he would likely be dead if he hadn’t used the spell, he couldn’t help feeling as Hermione must have felt when she’d used it against the "Death Eater" for hire at the World Cup. Harry took some comfort in knowing that the Kappa would no longer be able to attack him, but would still have a chance to live.

The adrenaline continued to pump as Harry put as much distance between himself and the Kappa assassins as possible, hoping that there had only been the four. He was bleeding a lot from the deep gashes on his forearm and abdomen. Harry stopped swimming after a few minutes and took a moment to pull off his t-shirt. He tore it into strips and bound his forearm with one, and tied the others around his middle before continuing on.

Finally he saw what appeared to be dwellings made of boulders and stone ahead - the Mer-Village - it had to be. But just as he was about to swim off to find Hermione, an eerie scream echoed through the basin. 

Harry whirled around and beheld a massive swarm of Grindylow attacking Fleur off to his right. For a moment he considered continuing on to find Hermione - but only for a moment. Harry simply couldn’t bring himself to abandon Fleur to whatever terrible fate might befall her if he left her behind.

As he swam towards Fleur, Harry passed through more than a dozen charred dead Grindylow. Fleur was shooting balls of flame from her one free hand which were so hot that they stayed lit underwater like magnesium torches. At that moment, Harry knew for certain that Ron was right: Fleur was a Veela - or at least part-Veela - a Siren. 

As she furiously struggled against the swarm of Grindylow surrounding her, Fleur’s face began to elongate into a bird-beak, but not nearly such a pronounced beak as belonged to the Veela who had got into a brawl with the Leprechauns at the Quidditch World Cup. Harry marveled at the Siren’s natural magical defences. Those Leprechauns at the World Cup had been very lucky to have barely more than sparks shot their direction, he thought. The Veela cheering squad had clearly been holding back.

Still, Fleur was alone and surrounded by more than a hundred Grindylow; half a dozen of them had hold of her other three limbs, and she was already bleeding from several bites. If they began tearing at her with their razor fangs, she was doomed. 

Harry knew that a long-range attack could possibly endanger Fleur as much as the Grindylow; his best option for a rescue was to swim right into their midst. Harry propelled himself rapidly through the water. The Grindylow chittered shrilly and fled in terror from the wizard with the rune tattoos, which Harry had a sneaking suspicion was a promise of Death to the water-demons.

Fleur almost couldn’t believe it when Harry swam to her rescue. There had been so many Grindylow, that she knew they would have eventually overwhelmed her. Anyone else might have left her to be subdued by those foul creatures, but not Harry Potter, whom she had come to greatly admire the more she had learned about his kindness and his courage. 

The Siren smiled gratefully at Harry through the bubble which surrounded her head and clasped his hand. Together they swam back towards the underwater village of the Merpeople, passing by a number of rough-hewn stone houses as many silvery-grey, vaguely humanoid figures with fish-like tails, jagged teeth, and wild tangles of black-green hair, watched them with anxious pale yellow eyes.

Harry and Fleur finally arrived in the centre of the village and the blood drained from their faces. Hermione, Gabrielle, Cho, and Lavender; all were chained to an enormous rusting anchor, not far from a large statue of a Merperson. Their robes and hair drifted eerily in the currents; they looked dead, but were apparently only in some form of bewitched sleep. And they were surrounded by a crowd of raucous jeering and laughing Mermen brandishing deadly looking tridents and spears.

The hour was almost up, but Viktor and Cedric were nowhere to be seen. Harry and Fleur turned to their own hostages and both uttered “Relashio.” The chains fell from Gabrielle, but Hermione’s remained attached. Harry felt a clutch of fury and fear grip his heart - Hermione's chains had clearly been charmed to resist the releasing spell.

Several grinning Mermen pointed their spears at him and shook their heads. One drew a blade and held it to Hermione’s throat, drawing several drops of blood. They obviously had no intention of letting Hermione go.

“This one stays. Only you go with yours... if you still have time!” one of the Mermen said to Fleur in halting English.

But the hour was gone.

Panicky, his gills flaring with rage, Harry tried the severing charm on Hermione’s chain, and thanked his lucky stars when the steel links sparked and shattered under the impact of his spell. Hermione stirred, the pain of the cut on her neck waking her. A bubble formed around her head as she incanted the same charm that Fleur was obviously using. The Mermen holding her tightened their grip, narrowing their pale yellow eyes. 

Hermone’s eyes widened with shock, having believed that she was relatively safe with the Merfolk. She tightened her neck muscles and slammed the back of her head into the bridge of the nose of the Merman behind her as Tonks had taught her. He dropped the blade he was holding to Hermione’s throat, and fell back screeching. 

Hermione bit the arm of one of the others holding her while Harry furiously slashed at the third with his wand, opening a gash along the arm which was holding a wicked looking dagger. They both fell away from Hermione, shrieking in pain.

Fleur had managed to free Cho with the releasing spell, but Mermen swarmed her with spears before she could reach Lavender. 

“This one, and the other... Not yours... Go! Take yours only, you may live... Stay, you all die...” rasped one of the Mermen. 

But Fleur wasn’t leaving without Harry and the other hostages. Angrily, she sent fiery bolts of plasma into the midst of the Mermen, scattering them as the water boiled. Harry aimed his wand and used a stunning spell as three Mermen bore down on him and Hermione; Hermione shot a Repulsor Charm at the other two - hoping they would take the hint and give it up. 

But the non-lethal spells strangely seemed to have little effect on the Merfolk as they shrugged them off, only slowing down for a moment and charging again as three more Merfolk joined the fray. 

Hermione had strapped her wand to her forearm before allowing herself to be taken, and was thankful that they hadn’t removed it as the half-dozen Merpeople surrounded her and Harry, jabbing their weapons at them and drawing blood. She glanced at Harry - sharing a stricken look as they both understood that they had to respond in kind to be taken seriously.

Together, Harry and Hermione slashed their wands a number of times, and the Merfolk howled as they retreated. Harry was surprised at the dark coppery colour of their blood, he’d thought it might be green like the Kappa's. The injured Merpeople wailed like banshees, their spears and tridents sinking to the bottom of the lake as they dropped them. 

Harry and Hermione were briefly clear of Mermen, but more were approaching rapidly. Hermione used the releasing charm on Lavender’s chain and bubbles emerged from Harry's mouth when he screamed at Fleur to take Cho and Gabrielle and go. 

Fleur wanted to stay and help Harry and Hermione fight, but a Merman took advantage of her distraction to grab at Gabrielle. Hermione fired a stunning spell to slow the Merman down and also yelled at Fleur to go while she still had a chance. Fleur finally obeyed; she used an Ascendio Charm and rose quickly to the surface of the Black Lake with Gabrielle and Cho in her arms. 

Harry thrust Lavender into Hermione’s arms and severed the forearm of the Merman driving a spear at his face with another slash of his wand. Harry was sickened at having to use the Diffindo Charm repeatedly, but the Merfolk seemed intent on preventing Hermione’s escape and killing him, and they seemed relatively impervious to most of the non-injurious spells. So far he had managed to avoid using it to kill anyone himself, but he wasn’t sure how long he could continue to do so.

Harry and Hermione began to ascend to the surface with Lavender, who was thankfully still unconscious. But they were quickly surrounded by dozens of armoured Merfolk, and the one in the middle wearing a tarnished golden crown encrusted with pearls raised a staff at them. A ripple of magic spread through the water as a globe shaped bronze cage appeared from nowhere, encircling and trapping them. The apparent Chieftain of the Merpeople approached, his silvery-grey face a mask of rage. He turned around to address his soldiers in Mermish.

_“The battle is won - the young Demon Wizard and his mate are ours thanks to the return of the Magic Staff. You have seen the violence he has wrought against us - he is clearly a Muggleborn Criminal just as we were told... And when we turn him and his mate over to his Minister, we shall be granted our rightful status as the Rulers of the Waters and the Open Sea as once we were so long ago._

_“No longer shall we be forced to submit meekly to the whims of wizards and to live without magic in order to appease the delicate sensibilities of non-magical humans.”_

Harry and Hermione looked at each other in surprise. They had both wondered how the Ministry had managed to convince the Merpeople to be part of the Triwizard Tournament. It hadn’t seemed very likely that they would be any more pleased to do the bidding of wizards than most Centaurs were. Harry was glad that he hadn’t had to kill any so far. He and Hermione might yet be able to talk themselves out of this situation.

**~o0o~**

Fleur broke the surface gasping for fresh air and used a propulsion spell to send her speeding towards the platform with Gabrielle under one arm and Cho under the other. Two of the Aurors securing the tournament each hauled a girl onto the platform. Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey grabbed Fleur’s arms and heaved her out of the water.

Shivering and sobbing, Fleur turned to look behind her and saw a bloom of coppery blood spreading across the surface in the middle of the lake. She scrambled towards the edge of the platform, intending to jump back in, but she was restrained by McGonagall and Pomfrey.

 _ **“I must go back,”**_ Fleur screamed, as Minerva and Poppy tried to hold her down, “...‘Arry and ‘Ermione - ze Nereid are killing zem.”

The two older witches’ faces went ashen and they almost let Fleur go. But the two Aurors pulled off their cloaks and dove into the lake. The Professor and the Healer continued to restrain Fleur as Dumbledore and Maxime both thundered onto the platform.

“What the _hell_ is going on out there Miss Delacour?” Dumbledore asked as gently as possible, his own face contorted in wrath. “What are they doing to my students?”

“Zose water-demon, they would not let ‘Ermione go when ‘Arry released ‘er,” Fleur sobbed. “I know not why. But ze Nereid - they tried to kill zem... ‘Arry and ‘Ermione were still fighting when I left. I was going to stay and fight too, but ‘Arry and ‘Ermione told me to bring Cho and Gabrielle back, so I did as I was told.”

Albus Dumbledore nodded furiously. He drew his wand and lunged into the lake to follow the Aurors.

**~o0o~**

Harry glowered at the idiot wearing the crown.

 _“Are you bloody mad?”_ Harry snapped, _“D’you really think the Minister is going to honour any bargains she made with you?”_

The Mer-Chieftain was astonished to hear the boy’s Mermish utterances. The Minister’s lackeys had assured him the boy was a very young muggleborn criminal with little education in the ways of wizard-kind. And they had made many promises to persuade him to do whatever was necessary during the Triwizard tournament in order to ensure the boy’s capture, dead or alive - even returning the magic staff of the Merfolk as a sign of good faith... the only magic they had ever once possessed as a people. 

But it took years for human wizards to learn Mermish - the boy couldn’t possibly be as uneducated as was claimed. What other untruths had he been told? The Chieftain halted his advance, suddenly uncertain. Harry continued, having got the Chieftain’s attention.

 _“I’m not a criminal - the Minister just hates muggleborns. This girl with me - the one who I love - she’s a muggleborn. The Minister wants to kill her, and she wants to kill me because I was raised by muggles too. And from what I’ve been told, the current Minister is the same person who wants to round you lot up and tag you...”_

Harry was just winging it, saying whatever came to the top of his head, including the bits he’d heard about Minister Umbridge from Sirius and Lupin. He was more certain than ever that she really had instigated the tournament to capture or kill him now; and Harry instinctively knew that she believed the same sort of rubbish as Voldemort, even if he couldn’t really prove it - she was a friend of the Malfoys after all. But he didn’t think the Chieftain needed to hear the full story - just the bits which might give him pause.

 _“So what makes you think that the Minister would ever actually follow through on an agreement once you turn me over to her? ... ”_ Harry continued.

Suddenly there was an outraged babble of voices from the Merfolk behind the Chieftain.

 _“Get back,”_ yelled one of the soldiers at the gathering crowd of villagers.

 _“Stand down or I will gut you like a fish, you coward,”_ a female voice said dangerously. _“You know who I am - the rightful Chieftainess of this village before the Usurper imprisoned me and made that foul deal with new Minister of Wizards._

_“The People have freed me. Now step aside or face the wrath of the People - those to whom this village truly belongs... and release those prisoners so that they may return to the castle above where they belong.”_

Harry glanced at Hermione, both of them taken aback by the sudden change of affairs. They thought that Harry had been addressing the legitimate head of the Mer-Village. Neither of them knew how things would play out if there was civil unrest among the Merpeople, and neither of them knew what to do at this point. 

The soldiers appeared to be uncertain too. They simply followed whoever wore the crown, but they also knew that the Chief only served at the Will of the People. The Village Councillors had been swayed to have the Chieftainess arrested and to install her cousin as leader in her place. But now the people had apparently disagreed and deposed the Councillors, freeing the former Chieftainess. They peered at the Chieftain questioningly, awaiting his response. 

Harry glanced at the Merman with the crown and the sceptre, sensing that he was wavering. 

_“Look,”_ said Harry, _“is this really what you wanted? A civil war? Do you really want to fight your own people? The current Minister and wizards like her would be only too happy if you lot killed each other off... ”_

The “Chieftain’s” silvery-grey face flushed coppery in shame as he realised that the boy was right. He had been a fool to leap at the Minister’s Offer and to use the temptation of the Magic Staff and Ruling the Waters once more to persuade the Councillors to turn against his cousin. He should have known that it was a trick. And he knew that his cousin was right... he had never deserved the Crown.

The “Chieftain” raised the staff again, and the cage vanished just as another group of wizards swam towards them. He recognised one of them as the Headmaster of the school above the lake.

 _“Go!” ___the Merman said to Harry, taking the crown off his head. _“I and my cousin will speak with the Headmaster of what has happened here today, and she shall once again wear this crown. I was a fool for allowing myself to be used...”_

Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He and Hermione swam towards the approaching Aurors and Dumbledore with Lavender in hand. Seeing his students safe, Dumbledore gestured for one of the Aurors to return with them to the surface while Kingsley Shacklebolt remained with him to speak with the Merpeople and determine what had happened.

**~o0o~**

Fleur was still crying on the platform, embracing her sister when Harry and Hermione finally returned with Lavender Brown. Krum swooped Lavender into his arms, overjoyed to see her safe and sound, and feeling much better since Pomfrey and McGonagall had sorted him out.

Cedric looked rather ashamed of himself, but none the worse for wear when Harry spotted him and Cho. 

“The Grindylows...” Cedric muttered when Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly, “there were just too many of them.”

Harry was nodding sympathetically when Fleur flung herself on both of the Potters, sobbing.

“I was so worried zat you might both be dead... I wanted to stay and fight ze Nereid - if not for you ‘Arry, my seester - she might be dead too. You saved me ‘Arry! ... And you ‘Ermione - you both ‘elped me save my Gabrielle...”

Numerous cameras began flashing from the stands. Hermione gasped - momentarily outraged when Fleur suddenly gave Harry a big kiss on the lips. But when Fleur turned her head and kissed Hermione wetly on the lips too, Hermione’s outrage evaporated in a cloud of steam. She blushed furiously as Fleur’s lips parted from her own. 

“And thank you both for saving Lavender,” said Viktor Krum, grinning at the pair of red-faced Potters still trapped in Fleur’s embrace, “but please excuse me zat I do not kiss you!” 

Harry returned the grin and almost laughed.

“So what happened to you?” he asked Viktor.

“Ze Giant Squid... I transfigure myself part into shark, but the Squid - I learn zat it does not like sharks... ze hard way.” Viktor glanced at Hermione, something catching his eye. “By ze vay, Hermione, you haff a water-beetle in your hair...”


	27. Secrets and Lies

“Bloody Hell! Whaddya reckon’s taking them so long?” Ron grumbled. The sun was nearing its highest point of the day and he was getting hungry.

Seamus just shrugged, looking as perplexed as everyone else. It seemed to be taking hours for Dumbledore and the other judges to sort things out. A buzz of curiosity filled the air as the crowd in the stands was growing just as restless as Ron. Nobody had an inkling of what had gone on under the surface of the Black Lake, but clearly Fleur had been the first to come back with her hostage, and Cedric’s too - though well outside the time limit. 

Dumbledore and a couple of Aurors had jumped into the lake, and Harry had finally arrived with Hermione and Lavender Brown a short while later. Then some time after that, Dumbledore and the tall Auror with a shaved head had returned, dripping wet, and had a conversation with Fleur, Hermione, and Harry. Then to everyone’s surprise, Dumbledore and the baldheaded Auror had dived back into the lake and not returned for nearly an hour.

**~o0o~**

While everyone had waited, Madam Pomfrey had seen to the many cuts and bites that Fleur had received from the Grindylow, and to the nasty gashes that Harry had received from the Kappa, and also to the penetrating wounds that he and Hermione had both sustained from the business ends of spears and tridents during the battle with the Merpeople. Professor McGonagall had in the meantime conjured up a supply of refreshing drinks from the castle cellars to keep the bewildered audience occupied and hydrated. Finally Dumbledore and the Auror had returned.

After one last hushed conversation with Harry and Hermione, Albus Dumbledore shared a grave look with Kingsley Shacklebolt before rejoining the other judges. For the first time, he had some evidence that the Minister was actively interfering with the Triwizard Tournament in an attempt to capture or harm Harry Potter, indeed likely having instigated it for that very purpose to begin with... 

Unfortunately, the testimony of “halfbreeds” held no legal sway at the Ministry. Amelia Bones would believe Mer-Chieftainess Murcus and her remorseful cousin of course, but she would not be able to act on the information in an official capacity. Any investigation Amelia opened into the Minister’s activities would have to be surreptitious - a dangerous prospect indeed. 

Dumbledore cannily regarded the expression on Ludo Bagman’s pale features. The man was trembling slightly, his shifty eyes darting nervously from Harry Potter to Dumbledore, then back again. There seemed to be little doubt now that he was involved, though the Mer-Chieftainess’s cousin had not been able to provide any evidence to that effect - having only met with unidentified Ministry personnel, perhaps members of the Triwizard Commission or other associates of Ludo Bagman and the Minister.

Then there was the matter of who had hired the Kappa assassins that Harry Potter had informed him of. They had apparently fled the scene, though Kingsley had at least managed to find some physical evidence which confirmed Harry’s story. There was unfortunately nothing to link them directly to the Ministry or Lucius Malfoy - and there was a distinct possibility that Karkaroff was behind them, hoping to give his Champion an edge to make up for not having equal representation in the tournament. 

The headmaster sighed, knowing that he could not make any unsupportable accusations or have Bagman arrested on sight. Though it was apparent to Dumbledore that he needed to confide his concerns with Olympe Maxime behind closed doors at the earliest opportunity. As he settled into his seat, Dumbledore gave Kingsley a slight nod.

The Auror approached the Judges’ Bench and gave his report in deep mellifluous tones. He spoke of the unrest among the Merfolk, and the true danger that the hostages and the Champions had faced, carefully leaving out any hint that he and Dumbledore suspected Bagman’s and the Minister’s involvement. 

Kingsley peered at both Bagman and Karkaroff - looking for signs of recognition - when he displayed the throwing star and the severed hand of a Kappa which he had found in the lake. When he was finished, Fleur gave her accounting of what had happened. 

Harry sighed, wishing he could give voice to what he and Dumbledore both knew to be true and suspected. He understood why he couldn’t, but he was unable to refrain from shooting Bagman and Percy glares while he recounted the events, leaving out the bits the Mer-Chiefs had mentioned about the deal to turn him over to the Minister. 

Ludo Bagman looked a bit puzzled, but relieved when nobody questioned him. He knew there was nothing tying him directly to the unrest among the Merpeople, but he’d thought questions might at the very least be raised as to how the Merfolk had come to obtain the return of their Magic Staff from the Ministry. 

He already had a perfectly reasonable answer prepared if it had come up of course, which was that it had been the price to get the Merfolk to agree to participate in the tournament. But given the circumstances of Potter having completed the task, Bagman had been worried that certain other questions might be raised.

Bagman was as surprised as everyone else to hear about the Kappa though - he shot a glance at Karkaroff, but the Durmstrang headmaster’s expression was unreadable.

“Well,” began Dumbledore, his manner serene as he addressed the other judges, “how shall we go about this then? Clearly Harry Potter and Fleur Delacour were the only ones to complete the task and return with their hostages - and though they both returned well outside the time limit, given the circumstances, that ought not be held against them. 

“And I daresay Harry’s experience with the Kappa ought to be taken into account - as they were clearly not an _official_ element of the Task,” Dumbledore added pointedly with raised eyebrows. “Yet he apparently dealt with them quite effectively.”

“But Potter _**clearly**_ broke the rules though when he veered off his own quest to assist Miss Delacour,” Percy said officiously. “Champions aren’t supposed to help each other...”

Madame Maxime looked scandalised at Percy’s pernicious pronouncement, but Karkaroff looked both pleased and surprised at the young British official’s sensible declaration.

“I _**quite**_ agree,” interjected Karkaroff quickly, “From my understanding of all accounts, Potter and Delacour should _**both**_ be disqualified for assisting each other. How are we to know that they did not have some kind of prior arrangement to put my Champion and your Mr Diggory at a disadvantage, Dumbledore? They seemed to be quite... _**affectionate**_ with each other at the conclusion of the task.”

“ _Surely_ you cannot be implying that either Miss Delacour or Mr Potter were able to persuade the Giant Squid to fling Mr Krum to the shore... or to convince a massive swarm of Grindylow to force Mr Diggory to retreat to safety to avoid being savaged by them as Miss Delacour nearly was herself?” Dumbledore retorted coolly with raised eyebrows and a hint of a twinkle in his eye.

“Why, one might just as easily say that _**you**_ hired the Kappa hit-team to give your student an advantage... but without any evidence, such an accusation would of course be _absurd!”_ Dumbledore concluded jovially.

“Of _**course...**_ Yes! It would be absurd indeed!” Karkaroff snapped, his eyes narrowing. Percy scowled as it became apparent that Dumbledore was manipulating them into announcing a victory for Potter at any cost.

“ _Well_ then,” said Dumbledore avuncularly, “perhaps we can all agree that Mr Potter and Miss Delacour were both displaying the moral fibre to which we all hope to aspire! ... Is this not truly the very essence of what this Tournament was founded for? ... to forge bonds of solidarity and friendship across international boundaries?”

“Oui...” began Madame Maxime, nodding, but she was interrupted by a loud **“YES!”** from Ludo Bagman.

“You’re absolutely right, Dumbledore, my _**dear**_ fellow!” Bagman eagerly exclaimed. “Moral Fibre indeed! The noble ideals of Solidarity and Friendship are _**precisely**_ why the tournament was founded and why we are here today... 

“Where would we be if we did not aspire to the principles of fairness and kindness to our fellow man above all else? I move that we award _**all**_ the Champions points based on both the relative skill displayed in their use of magic, and then also on the successful completion of said Task without regard to the time limit.”

Dumbledore allowed himself a little chuckle at Ludo Bagman’s transparent attempt to quell any silly notions of Ministry corruption which might have come from listening to any fairy tales told by dangerous and untrustworthy “halfbreeds.” 

Percy goggled in surprise at Ludo, and with no small amount of frustration, he reminded himself that the Minister had directed him to follow Ludo’s lead.

“Er... I...erm... I second the motion,” Percy said awkwardly.

“Zat sounds like a vairy fair compromise,” agreed Madame Maxime.

“It does indeed,” said Dumbledore with a satisfied smile. “I move that we each award Mr Krum and Mr Diggory five points - giving them both a total score of twenty five points apiece. Mr Krum’s partial transfiguration into a shark no doubt took some effort... it is not his fault that the Giant Squid takes great exception to sharks in his territory...”

“And your Mr Diggory - ‘e must ‘ave more than a passing knowledge of French to ‘ave translated ze Bubble-Head Charm,” Madame Maxime said kindly. “I second your motion Albus.”

“Oh alright then!” snapped Karkaroff, looking very disgruntled. “Twenty five points to Viktor and to Mr Diggory!”

“And I propose Full Marks to both Mr Potter and Miss Delacour,” said Bagman cheerfully. “Mr Potter made excellent use of Gillyweed and Miss Delacour the Bubble-Head Charm - they both arrived with two hostages - and though Mr Potter was last to arrive, it was his bravery, determination, and compassion which gave Miss Delacour the opportunity to rescue her hostage and to arrive first... 

“...and finally, Miss Delacour was all set to return to help Mr Potter fight his way free of those back-stabbing water-beasts, though he did eventually return under his own steam! Clearly they are both deserving of a full ten points from each one of us,” Bagman concluded.

“Seconded,” agreed Madame Maxime immediately, beaming proudly as she peered at her Champion and Mr Potter who were waiting with the other Champions by the school nurse’s tent near the stands.

“That... that’s ten points apiece from me then,” said Percy in a strained sort of voice.

“And from myself of course,” said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling merrily. 

Everyone turned to peer expectantly at Karkaroff. The Durmstrang headmaster’s eyes were now so narrow that they were nearly slits, and his lips were as thin as they could possibly be.

“Ten points...” he hissed through clenched teeth, “ _...to share between the **both** of them._ Award the points... as you... see... fit...!”

“Well, that is a _most_ gracious offer indeed,” chuckled Dumbledore, his clear blue eyes sparkling in the midday sun. “Well there you have it Ludo, you may announce the marks - forty-five points apiece to Miss Delacour and Mr Potter, and twenty-five apiece to Mr Krum and Mr Diggory.”

Never had Ludo Bagman been so relieved to announce a score which had lost him so many galleons. He made the announcement quickly, sparing the audience most of the details, and was comforted greatly by the knowledge that his losses would all be covered by his sponsor.

**~o0o~**

“Honestly, I really couldn’t give a hang about the points,” Harry muttered angrily as he clutched Hermione closely to him in his arms, his chest tight as he listened to Bagman cheerily report the Judge’s final marks for the Second task.

“I’m just glad you’re alive Hermione,” he said more gently, pressing his lips to hers.

“Oui,” murmured Fleur, shooting a radiant smile at the kissing Potters as she continued to embrace her sister, “I feel much ze same. Gabrielle means more to me than winning ze Tournament.” 

Harry still couldn’t get the image out of his mind of Hermione chained up, deathly pale as her hair and robes eerily drifted in the undulating current at the bottom of the lake. And Harry was furious that he couldn’t say anything about the Ministry for the time-being. Hermione knew exactly how Harry felt, because she was feeling it too.

“We’ll expose them eventually Harry,” whispered Hermione as she peered earnestly into his green eyes, “Bagman and the Minister and everyone else who’s involved...”

“An’ if I can ‘elp, I shall do what I can,” said Fleur quietly, in whom the Potters had confided as they waited together. “I am most grateful zat you say nothing about Veela. My father - ‘e insisted I say nothing, but I thought for ozzer reason, because of ze boys... but now ees more clear.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed, “the people in charge at the Ministry right now would probably think you’re a ‘halfbreed’...”

“...and it’s probably best that we keep everything quiet for the moment until we have solid proof,” Hermione continued. “Dumbledore promised he would tell Madame Maxime what was going on when he has a chance to talk to her alone...”

“But I should probably warn Viktor and Cedric soon too,” added Harry. “I suppose I’ll just let them enjoy the moment though,” he concluded as the cheering crowd exited the stands and surged towards the Champions.

Parvati was among the first to mob Harry and Hermione as the stands began to clear, flinging her arms around the Potters and Lavender. Harry and Hermione blushed furiously again when Parvati and Lavender each gave them both a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks again for both rescuing me too Harry, Hermione...” said Lavender almost shyly, turning pink herself as Viktor stood nearby grinning. 

When Viktor fought his way back to the castle through the throng of onlookers with Lavender and Parvati in tow, Luna and Ginny rushed in squealing to hug Harry and Hermione. Neville, the Twins, and Dean were apparently lost in the crowd somewhere, but another freckled redhead emerged with Seamus Finnegan at his side. 

_**“Tied for First Place! And a snog from the French girl... That was brilliant Harry!”**_ Ron shouted to be heard over the crowd, his curiosity overwhelming him, “But what took you so long? And why’d you come back with Lavender too? Dumbledore would’ve never let any of the hostages drown... You didn’t waste time acting the Hero did you?”

Seamus sniggered, flashing a thumbs up at Harry. 

Gritting his teeth, Harry didn’t know what to say. He wanted to point out that Ron hadn’t been so concerned about his “acting the hero” when he and Hermione had saved Ron’s sister Ginny from Voldemort’s Shade, or saved Ron’s own life when they’d all been swarmed by Dementors - but he squashed that urge, not wanting to sound like a boastful prat.

Focused as he had been on training for the Task and enjoying all of his time with Hermione, Harry’s anger towards Ron had dissipated gradually over the last couple of months, but Ron’s denseness brought some of it back now in a hot rush. 

Harry struggled to remind himself that Ron had no clue what had gone on down below; he didn’t know what it had been like - he hadn’t been in a terrifying battle for his life with murderous Kappa and Merpeople. Ron didn’t know what Harry, Hermione, and Dumbledore knew.

As he looked at Ron’s beaming sincere features - so lacking in guile - it suddenly struck Harry that Ron really couldn’t help himself sometimes. Ron didn’t always mean to be rude - though it was quite obvious when it was intentional. Much of the time Ron was just an insensitive thickhead who blurted things out without thinking, more than a bit selfish and jealous at times too, and he probably always would be.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond to Ron, a furious look on her face, but Harry tugged on her torn wet sleeve.

“Leave it Hermione,” he said quietly, “Ron’s got no idea...” 

Then Harry sighed as he peered at Ron and Seamus. Harry wasn’t sure that he could ever really trust Ron enough again to share everything he knew with him, or have him back in his life on a full-time basis, but he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to try and get past the rough patch a bit. Ron was good for a laugh every now and then.

“Well, if I _‘acted the Hero,’_ then so did Fleur,” Harry retorted pointedly, eyebrows raised, half-smiling. “She came back with Cho as well as her sister...” 

“Oh yeah...” said Ron thickly, a lightbulb appearing to go on in his head, “I was wondering about that! I thought maybe she just wanted to get into Cho’s knickers after I saw her snog Hermione too...”

Hermione rolled her eyes, huffing as Harry gave her a comforting squeeze and grinned at Ron. Dora - who had been standing nearby chatting to Professor Moody and the Auror that had investigated the Task - had overheard; she chuckled and shook her head.

“Let’s get you two back up to the castle so you can get out of your wet things and dry off,” said Dora to Harry and Hermione. “You should rest up for a bit - you’ve both earned it.”

As the students and visitors all headed to the Great Hall, Harry and Hermione opted for lunch in their own quarters, glad to be away from the crowds. 

“Shacklebolt told me what happened,” said Dora quietly as she led the Potters back through the empty stone corridors of the castle to their chambers. “The tall bloke with a shaved head - that’s Kingsley Shacklebolt - he’s a member of the Order too. It’s a shame we don’t ‘ave more to go on...”

“Yeah,” agreed Harry, “I would’ve loved to see the look on Percy’s face if we could’ve arrested Bagman and brought charges against the Minister right then and there... Dumbledore told us that nobody would’ve believed the Merfolk - that Bagman would’ve just denied it and said they were lying to make the Ministry look bad and blame them for stirring up the unrest...”

“It’s _**horrible**_ that the word of Merpeople doesn’t count for anything, legally or otherwise,” Hermione uttered vehemently, “It’s absolutely disgusting how other beings are treated. At least Dumbledore let them keep their Magic Staff.” 

“Yeah, that’s somethin’ at least...” said Dora wryly. “The Minister won’t be too happy about getting nothing in return for it.”

**~o0o~**

Harry awoke the next morning, his scar itching and sore, but not paining anywhere near as badly as it had the previous night. He could still sense Voldemort, who appeared to be now in a quandary as how best to proceed, but the feeling was muted - more detached and distant now.

He grinned at his wife, who was snuggled beside him with an arm across his chest, giving him little kisses to wake him up. Harry drew Hermione nearer, fingers caught up in her golden ringlets and a hand around her waist as they shared a proper kiss to start the day.

The Potters both felt achy and worn as they got up and dressed. Despite spending the afternoon and evening following the Second Task just cuddling after getting out of their wet things and taking a nice hot bath together to relax and wash the silt and water-weeds out of their hair, they were both still drained and exhausted.

“...It’s perfectly normal,” said Dora - her spiky hair royal-blue this morning - when she saw the Potters both looking a bit out-of-sorts and yawning as they made their way to breakfast. “It’s just the after-effects of adrenaline and the physical and emotional turmoil of a fight. You’ll both feel better after a bit.”

Harry reckoned that Dora was right, but he had an ominous feeling when he spied Luna giggling madly at the Gryffindor table as she read something along with a stunned looking Lavender and Parvati, Ginny nearby with her blazing face buried in her hands and moaning. Few else were in the Great Hall yet, trickling in gradually as they often did for breakfast on the weekends.

“What’s going on?” asked Harry. Dean shrugged and shook his head.

“Dunno, they won’t let us read it yet - some girls’ magazine,” said Neville, looking very bewildered. 

“I can’t _**believe**_ her...” said Lavender, her face flushing with embarrassment as her eyes widened in amazement, “How does she come up with this rubbish? She can’t just make stuff up and get away with it, can she?” 

“She’s very creative - you have to admit,” Parvati replied, looking torn between mirth and shock, not to mention a hint of admiration for the sheer audacity of what she was reading.

“What’ve you got there?” asked Hermione.

“The latest issue of _Witch Weekly_ ,” Luna answered, trying to catch her breath between giggles, “It’s the silliest thing I’ve read in a long time... Daddy would _never_ publish something so ridiculous.”

Hermione’s eyes boggled as they darted across the page of the women’s magazine. Her frowns and gasps of outrage were quickly overtaken by snorts of mirth and squeaks of laughter. In no time, Hermione was giggling as much as Luna.

“Come on then... what’s so funny?” said Harry, beginning to grow frustrated. “Let me see then!”

Hermione glanced at Harry, her giggles abating. She bit her lip and looked worried as she reluctantly passed the magazine to Harry, knowing he wouldn’t like it one little bit. Dora clapped a hand to her mouth, her eyes popping when she saw the pictures and the headline above the article. Harry’s face began to darken.

**Harry Potter’s Secret Harem**

by Rita Skeeter

_A boy like no other, perhaps - yet a boy in the throes of his adolescent urges... or a man of dark passions? This reporter was as stunned as the rest of the Wizard World when we recently learned of the secret marriage of Harry Potter to his steady girlfriend Hermione Granger, but is it possible that something much more salacious and sinister is lurking beneath the Potters’ robes?_

_It was originally presumed that the devious muggleborn woman of lowly birth and dubious attractiveness had merely been hoping to improve her means and her status in the Wizard World by riding on the coat-tails of Mr Potter’s fame and fortune, but it has recently come to light that something even more disturbing may be at play._

_Eyewitness reports seem to confirm the inappropriate and dark nature of Harry Potter’s proclivities. Mr Potter - a man of the age of majority - and his even older wife - have been seen frequently together in the company of numerous underage girls, as pictured above in a Hogsmeade Tavern. And if the images captured at the conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament’s Second Task are any indication, the Potters appear to have also drawn the French Champion into their circle of lust._

_“Yes, Potter and his wife are always hanging out with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil,” says Millicent Bulstrode, a sweetly innocent fourth year student. “I see them with Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley all the time too - and **they’re** only in third year.”_

_When seeking to uncover the means by which the Potters are enticing their unsuitably young companions, this reporter discovered that they may be secretly employing the use of Love Potions - which are banned at Hogwarts. The aforementioned Miss Bulstrode assures us that both Potters are highly skilled potioneers, and both more than capable of creating their own Love Potions._

_“I’m sure that’s how they’re doing it,” Miss Bulstrode went on to say nervously, clearly afraid that she could be the Potters’ next victim. “They’re brilliant in Potions - always at the top of the class.”_

_As if that weren’t bad enough, a number of other students have come forward to report that Mr Potter has an exceedingly rare ‘talent’ associated with Salazar Slytherin, a notorious Dark wizard long disowned by those who reside in the House named for him at Hogwarts._

_“Everyone knows that Potter’s a Parselmouth,” a doe-eyed young Draco Malfoy informed us. And indeed, a few brave souls such as Hufflepuff Justin Finch-Fletchley confirmed this hair-raising information, though some are still too terrified of Mr Potter to reveal their identities._

_This stunning revelation would appear to indicate that Mr Potter’s unique Parseltongue abilities may be too titillating and tantalisingly temptatious for young girls to refuse his nefarious advances. Is Mr Potter a Dark wizard in training, employing his Cunning Tongue to ensnare young victims, only to surreptitiously dose and subdue them with an illegal potion, then to share them with his insatiable wife in orgiastic Bacchanalian rituals of debauchery and depravity?_

_One might hope that Headmaster Dumbledore would look into these shocking allegations. But given his encroaching senility, and his own penchant for employing dangerous halfbreeds, it is no wonder that these goings-on have thus far escaped his Eagle-Eye._

 

 **“Bloody Fucking Hell!”** Harry swore, a vein throbbing in his temple as his face reddened. He supposed it was slightly unusual for a guy to have so many girls among his circle of good friends, but he couldn’t believe that Skeeter had managed to turn perfectly ordinary friendships into something so revolting. 

“What’s so funny about this?” he growled.

“Oh Harry...” Hermione quickly took his hand and peered at him sympathetically. “It’s just so lurid and over-the-top... like something in the _Daily Mail_ or some other rubbishy tabloid! It’s too unbelievable. If that’s the best Rita Skeeter can come up with, she’s losing her touch... 

“It’s all just innuendo and gossip without a shred of evidence. Everyone knows that we’re both only in fourth year ourselves. And most wizards ought to know that Parseltongue is snake language - not quite the ‘depraved’ sex act she’s implying it to be...”

“Yeah...I know,” Harry sighed resignedly, glad at least that Hermione seemed to be managing to find more humour in the situation than himself. “But a lot of people seem to switch-off when they read stuff in mainstream newspapers and magazines Hermione. They’ll just assume it’s true, even if it flies in the face of known scientific facts.”

“I’m sorry Harry,” Hermione frowned, “You’re right of course. It’s just really hard to take this sort of rubbish seriously.” 

“It’s alright Harry,” said Parvati earnestly. “ _ **We**_ all know it’s a load of dung.”

Lavender nodded in agreement but looked a bit anxious; she hoped Viktor wouldn’t believe any of it. 

Hermione glanced across the Great Hall, hearing chortles and sniggers from the Slytherin table. Pansy Parkinson looked insufferably smug next to the gormless looking Millicent Bulstrode, no doubt hoping that coaching her friend through an interview would be enough to save her from being targeted for retaliation this time. Draco Malfoy smirked, his narrowed eyes glittering.

Hermione smiled brightly and waved to show that she wasn’t in the least bit upset. Following Hermione’s lead, Harry managed a stiff looking grin. Parvati seemed to be in a particularly wicked mood; with a sultry look, she put her arms around both Potters and made a show of kissing them both on the cheek while Luna giggled at all of them. Dora shook her head and chortled. 

Ginny had recovered somewhat from her initial embarrassment and grinned at Luna before turning to face the Slytherins, giving them a dangerous looking smile. Pansy gulped and quickly looked away, some of her smugness evaporating.

A red-faced Neville swallowed nervously as he and Dean gaped at the article, having finally got a hold of it. Dean quickly hid it under his robes as more groggy looking Gryffindors staggered into the Great Hall for breakfast, having been up late at Fred and George’s Second Task party last night.

“I just wonder...” Hermione muttered ten minutes later after swallowing a bite of scrambled egg, a pensive frown furrowing her brow. Harry halted just as he was about to take a bite out of the end of a banger.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Well...” said Hermione, “how’s Skeeter managing to get onto Hogwarts Grounds and conduct interviews if she’s been banned from Hogwarts? I wonder if she really has got an Invisibility Cloak, or if it’s something else...”

**~o0o~**

“You can’t be serious Amelia!” the Auror gasped.

The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement adjusted her monocle as she peered at Dawlish, her features dour. She had been somewhat dismissive of Dumbledore’s long-held suspicions about Dolores and her association with Lucius Malfoy in the past, but the report she had just received from Kingsley appeared to have confirmed the worst of them. 

“I am absolutely serious, John,” she said grimly. “And the investigation into Dolores’s activities must be kept completely under wraps...”

“So Chief Auror Scrimgeour...”

“Rufus must not know!” Amelia crisply interjected. “I have no doubt of his commitment to the Ministry, but his narrow views and his closeness to Dolores could compromise him. You will be reporting directly to me. I want you to employ only the most trustworthy Aurors in this investigation - those who can keep a secret and who do not have an ideological axe to grind against Dumbledore...”

Auror John Dawlish raised an eyebrow; Amelia Bones sighed.

“I understand your skepticism John... However, I know you to be fair-minded and dedicated to truth and justice. I trust Dumbledore, and I trust _you_... I need you with me on this.”

“Of course Ma’am... Amelia,” said Dawlish quickly. “I shall do as you ask...”

“Thank you John! I knew I could count on you.” Madam Bones smiled stiffly at Dawlish. “And _please_ tread carefully John... This could be very dangerous. Without anything more than the word of the Merfolk, we are on very thin ground. 

“The release of their Magic Staff from Ministry custody was done without my knowledge, which also raises red-flags. However the requisition forms appear to be all in order. We cannot rely on that as a basis for probable cause.”

“I understand Amelia - I have just the people for the job...”

**~o0o~**

The Minister’s hand shook slightly with fury as she dipped her spoon once more into the sugar bowl. Dolores Umbridge scowled as she stirred the fourth spoonful of sugar into her cup of tea and took a sip, seriously considering adding a healthy splash of brandy as she read through the reports for the umpteenth time.

Potter’s continuing survival was bad enough, but the resolution of the situation with the Halfbreed fish-people appeared to indicate that they very likely had retained possession of their Magic Staff, though there was no mention of it in the report. It had pained the Minister greatly to have parlayed with the Halfbreeds, but it had been a calculated risk with the promise of great reward if it had paid off. 

And Dolores was beginning to regret that she had ever trusted her insurance policy to assassins who also appeared to be suspiciously halfbreed. By rights, Harry Potter should have never reached the Mer-Village at all; the Japanese Minister had assured her that there were none better suited to marine assaults than the Kappa.

Minister Umbridge had considered adding a herd of Kelpie to the Second Task - Bagman’s suggestion - but she had decided that the risk of international incident was too great should the French or Bulgarian Champions have faced such a near certainty of death. And the French girl risking her life for a British Champion and a hostage not her own had been utterly unanticipated.

As she mulled over how best to counter another such an occurrence in the Third Task, the Minister reminded herself that the heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had signed off on the Tournament with the full knowledge that death was a distinct possibility - and with their assurance that any students participating would be fully informed of that potential outcome. 

They all knew the risks, and Britain was clearly indemnified should either France or Bulgaria attempt to lodge a formal complaint with the ICW or seek sanctions through other legal means. The risk factor of the Third Task would simply have to be ramped up, and a back-up plan put into place should Potter still make it through to the finish.

Frankly, Dolores was baffled as to how Potter had managed to survive everything thrown at him thus far. Certainly, he appeared to perform quite well academically, but there was little to indicate anything truly special about him. His apparent survival and defeat of Voldemort at the age of fifteen months could only be attributed to an unusually strong outburst of accidental magic - a rare but not entirely unheard of prospect, despite most opinions to the contrary. 

Surviving a Killing Curse was certainly unusual, but accidental magic had killed in the past, and nobody really knew what else a particularly strong outburst of undefined magic was ultimately capable of, being attributable to raw Emotion with unspecified and undirected Intent as it was - perhaps it had protected Potter in some manner. Unspeakable Lab-Techs in the Department of Mysteries were still quite hopeful of developing a shield against the Killing Curse one day. In any case, there had been no other real indication since that there was anything particularly out of the ordinary about the boy.

Unfortunately, to many in the wizard world, that had been more than enough to convince them that he was a Saviour. Harry Potter was a Living Symbol of the defeat of the Pureblood Agenda, and that simply could not continue to stand. Of course Dolores understood now that Voldemort had some sort of mysterious back-up plan which had sustained him, but that wasn’t the point.

Like his Pureblood father before him, Halfblood Potter was a protege of Dumbledore, a threat to the Natural Order of Things, thumbing his nose at ancient traditions and blood protocols, even going so far as to follow in his father’s footsteps and marry a Mudblood. As long as Potter was alive and retained his reputation unsullied, he would continue to be an inspiration - a rallying point for all of the Mudbloods demanding greater representation in the Wizengamot and the Ministry. 

At least Dolores could take some heart that the campaign of the _Daily Prophet_ and its sister publication _Witch Weekly_ was beginning to show signs of success. Inroads were being made in regards to damaging the credibility of Dumbledore and his youngest protege among the members of the Wizengamot. 

The Minister was concerned about the Department of Magical Law Enforcement though. Amelia Bones was far too close to Dumbledore for her liking. It wouldn’t do for Amelia to be working against her from within the Ministry. Clearly, steps would have to be taken in that regard. 

Once the DMLE was in Dolores’s hands, and Dumbledore ousted as Chief Warlock, Dolores would be able to more openly display her hand and to begin moving her and Lucius’s agenda through the Wizengamot.

In the meantime, the Triwizard Tournament was Dolores’s most effective tool for advancing her goals and keeping the Ministry’s foot in the door at Hogwarts. But the cover provided by Crouch’s and Bagman’s departments had to be maintained. She needed someone to take the fall should the tournament turn into a debacle. 

Crouch Senior had unfortunately already taken himself out of the equation, having checked himself into _St Mungo’s Rehabilitation Centre for Incurable Grief and Alcoholism_. And the Minister was most reluctant to sacrifice Percy Weasley - he was such a delightful young man. 

Percy was everything Dolores had hoped he would be; his sharp wit, his eagerness to please, his dedication to the Ministry, his passion for Order, and his greedy ambition above all else, made him a perfect choice to be her Senior Undersecretary. Despite everything, a cruel cunning smile crept to Dolores’s lips. The delicious irony of having a young Weasley to mould was not lost on her.

That only left Bagman. Dolores had assured herself of his unwavering loyalty by paying off his gambling debts from the Ministry’s coffers, but his failings made him the most suitable candidate for a patsy. Yes... Bagman would do very nicely indeed.

Dolores took another sip of tea, feeling much better, satisfied that she was ready to move forward. A knock on the door of her office caught her attention. Minister Umbridge looked up as the Unspeakable who had assisted her in the interrogation of Crouch Junior entered. The sinister smirk on her face broadened - quietly securing the man’s release from Azkaban by insisting that he had been a double agent all along had been a stellar decision which had paid off handsomely.

“Ah, Rookwood, excellent,” said Dolores, her tone steely as she had no need to couch herself with one of her own, “Thank you for being so prompt - there is much work to be done...”


	28. Another Step Closer to Death

As March rapidly approached, the weather became drier and biting winds buffeted those who ventured onto the grounds beyond the walls of the castle. Harry felt the ominous prickling in his scar which told him that Voldemort was still brooding - his mood darkening. But waking up in Hermione’s embrace every morning made all the difference in the world; Harry supposed he was feeling rather well, all things considered.

The Third Task was months away - not till June 24th - and Professor Moody had given them both a week off from training. And though a few Slytherins and some others had taken to quoting Skeeter’s article at every opportunity and sniggering, things with the rest of the students at Hogwarts didn’t seem quite as bad as Harry had thought they would be after the piece in _Witch Weekly_ had made the rounds.

Harry spotted some third and fourth year girls looking at him, dawdling coquettishly as they hovered nearby in the drafty corridor, batting their eyelashes and striking curve enhancing poses, seemingly trying to make themselves more noticeable and alluring as they had preceding the Yule Ball. Some even seemed to be giving Hermione the friendliest looks he’d ever seen them give her. Hermione giggled at Harry’s bewildered expression.

“I think they’re hoping to be enticed into our _‘Secret Harem,’_ Harry,” she whispered as they passed by the group of vamping girls. Harry shook his head in amazement and grinned.

Dora glanced at the girls as she followed at a distance behind the Potters, chortling at their disappointed expressions when Harry and Hermione didn’t stop and offer them drinks surreptitiously laced with Love Potions.

It wasn’t all fun and games for everyone though - Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode had ended up in the hospital wing for an afternoon after mysteriously coming down with something which had caused them both to uncontrollably scratch themselves in their private regions and moan loudly during lunchtime. Faces blazing with embarrassment, they had both fled the Great Hall, leaving their lunches untouched. 

Parvati and Lavender fell into a fit of hysterical giggles. Harry and Hermione glanced past Lavender and Parvati at Ginny and Luna, who were whispering and grinning at each other - seeming quite pleased with themselves. Fred and George were regarding their younger sister and her Ravenclaw friend with a mixture of awe and pride, and not a small bit of trepidation.

“I’d be cautious around those two, if I were you,” George said pointedly to Fred.

“I thought you _**were**_ me,” Fred retorted, eyebrows raised.

“Oh... right!” George grinned.

Another who seemed to be in disgrace was Justin Finch-Fletchley, who had been frog-marched up to the Gryffindor table by Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot and forced to apologise to Harry and Hermione. 

“I’m sorry,” said the curly haired Hufflepuff boy earnestly, “I didn’t mean anything by it - _really!_ I’ve known since the end of Second Year that you’re alright, Potter. That reporter just waylaid me near the greenhouses one day... I didn’t know she’d been banned from Hogwarts. All I told her was that you were a Parselmouth - that’s it - that’s all I told her... I swear!”

“It’s alright Fletchley,” said Harry sincerely. “We’re square... I didn’t really think you did it on purpose.”

“Harry’s right - we understand completely... Skeeter’s just a shrewish scheming harridan who will twist anyone’s words to suit her story!” Hermione added, smiling kindly at Justin. 

Justin departed, making a note to himself to look up the word ‘harridan’ whenever he got a chance. Neville blushed furiously when Hannah gave him a winning smile as she and Susan returned to the Hufflepuff table. Susan noticed Dean admiring her red hair and grinned at him. 

Harry peered at the Slytherin table again when he felt a little prickle of foreboding on the back of his neck. Draco Malfoy quickly looked away, his malicious eyes seeming to dart towards Greengrass who was still sitting at the far end of the Slytherin table. 

Hermione frowned, her own attention focused on Cormac McLaggen, who kept shooting very discomforting looks at her, Lavender, Parvati, and Ginny. McLaggen scowled when he realised that he’d been caught leering at the girls and muttered something under his breath to his friend, Towler. The way Towler chuckled slyly and nodded in response, Hermione was almost certain that McLaggen had said something very rude.

**~o0o~**

A thin layer of cloud passed across the waning moon as the bitter wind whistled under the eaves of the deteriorating ivy-covered manor at the top of the hill. Only the faintest glimmer of light in an upstairs window offered any indication that the abandoned, once-stately home might be occupied.

Had anyone been brave enough to venture through the overgrown grounds during the dark of night, then to creep silently up the stairs after passing over the threshold, they would have witnessed a paunchy balding man with beady bloodshot eyes and a pointy nose groveling before a tattered armchair, eerie shadows cast by the sputtering candles in the dusty room full of cobwebs. They might have noticed an enormous snake shrouded in darkness as it lay curled near the open door. And they would have heard the voice, icy and brittle as it admonished the man with rat-like features. 

“I tire of waiting Wormtail - biding my time in the house of he who denied me - waiting to no purpose...”

Wormtail swallowed nervously as he cowered in dread before his master, speaking as he was in a tone which held the promise of more torment.

“The fools who believe I am dead shall suffer my immeasurable wrath,” the Dark Lord hissed, “but first I must be restored. And I can no longer tolerate this residence, this reminder of imperfection, while waiting for something which will never happen - waiting for the Blood of Potter when there are none to retrieve him for me by stealth - or waiting for his death at the hand of another when by rights Potter’s life belongs to me.

“You were right, Wormtail...”

Wormtail’s eyes grew bigger and he stood a little taller, surprised to hear his master offer even the barest hint of praise. 

“...it _**shall**_ have to be done with another after all,” continued Voldemort. “And if I must forgo Potter’s Blood, then no purpose is served by taking the Bone of the Father... You did well to have the foresight to return with a young Pureblood in Potter’s stead... Bring forth the boy, Wormtail, that the ritual might begin - midnight fast approaches.”

“Y...yes Master... of course...” 

Unable to believe his good fortune, Wormtail scurried across the room and lifted what looked like a small bundle being guarded near the doorway by Nagini. His eyes glinting in the flickering candlelight, breath quickening with excitement, Wormtail placed the small petrified boy upon the makeshift altar. The Dark Lord’s oozing homunculus leaned forward in the threadbare armchair, its slit-like nostrils flaring in anticipation.

As he picked up a long silver dagger with the hand which was missing a finger, a savage joy curled the corners of Wormtail’s lips. His voice nearly shaking with demented glee, he began to utter the incantation for the alternate ritual - a ritual which did not call for the Flesh of the Servant.

_“One life for another, taken by force... Consumed by the Shadow, your flesh and your blood shall replace what was lost... Devoured by the Spirit, you shall resurrect Him...”_

The ceremonial blade in Wormtail’s hand flashed as it came down, and a blood-curdling shriek echoed throughout the decaying manor.

**~o0o~**

Harry woke up screaming, cold sweat pouring from his brow, his scar on fire, heart thudding against the wall of his chest. Terrified, Hermione bolted upright and wrapped herself around her shaking husband. She clutched Harry tightly to her breast as he shivered, his body wracked by huge gulping sobs.

“It’s alright Harry... I’m here - I’ve got you... I’ve got you...” 

Hermione stroked Harry’s damp messy thatch of black hair and kissed his clammy forehead. Gradually, his violent trembling ebbed and his sobbing began to ease in the warmth of Hermione’s embrace. The burning in his scar began to abate as well.

“I... he... Voldemort - Wormtail...” Harry began haltingly when he finally felt able to speak, “He - they k...k...killed a l...little boy...” The truth was almost unbearable - but it could not be denied. Fresh tears rolled down Harry’s cheeks, dripping onto his wife’s bare skin as he gave voice to the bitter reality.

“It’s all my fault Hermione... It’s my fault...” 

“Sssh Harry... it’s not true...” 

“It _**is,**_ Hermione! ... A little boy is d...dead _because of **me**_ \- murdered - because Voldemort couldn’t have me... He took someone else instead... It should have been me, Hermione!”

Hermione bit her lip, struggling to hold back her own tears as she kissed Harry’s forehead again and again, gently rubbing his back.

“Harry - you _**have**_ to believe me - you’re _**not**_ responsible... I promise. _**You**_ didn’t kill anyone...”

“I might as well have Hermione! It was like I was inside Voldemort - like I _was_ him... I saw it - I t... _tasted_ it...” Harry trailed off, horrified at what he had revealed when he felt Hermione stiffen.

Hermione was almost too frightened to ask. But she knew that Harry needed to talk about it - to tell her everything if he was ever going to get past it.

“W...what do you mean - _tasted_ it, Harry?”

“I... I can’t, Hermione...”

“Harry, _please_... You _**have**_ to tell me!”

“Please, don’t make me Hermione - it’s too awful...” 

Hermione felt a cold shiver run up her spine as her brain clicked into gear and whirred at high-speed. She had a horrid feeling that she knew what Voldemort had done.

“H...Harry, d...did Voldemort d...drink the boy’s blood? ... or... or eat him?”

Harry let out another sob and nodded.

“B...both!” he nearly whispered. “After giving him some blood to drink in a silver goblet - Wormtail - he fed Voldemort the boy’s heart. It... it was horrible... all that blood... in my mouth...”

“In _**Voldemort’s**_ mouth... _**not**_ yours Harry!”

Harry heard the words, but they rang bitterly hollow. He knew in his head that Hermione was right, but the taste of death lingered on his tongue. He felt ashamed, tainted by the gruesome ritual as if he had knowingly, willingly participated himself...

Tears glistening in her lashes as the pain and guilt in her husband’s eyes broke her heart, Hermione did the only thing she could think of. She pressed her lips to Harry’s, kissing him deeply. Hermione’s breath filled him, lifting him like a kite on a warm summer breeze. Harry soared as the shadows fled from the pulsing luminosity which accompanied her familiar minty taste. 

When she felt his heart slow as it beat next to her own, Hermione knew Harry would be alright. She leaned back, and as their lips parted, she saw peace in his eyes once more. 

“He’s back Hermione - I mean _**really**_ back now...” said Harry, feeling much better, his guilty feelings more manageable and easier to squash, “...in a proper body. And... and I know where he is, or at least where he was. He left already...”

**~o0o~**

The portraits on the wall of the headmaster’s office all feigned sleep as Harry Potter recounted what had happened. Fawkes was as alert as ever, the intense gaze of the phoenix never once leaving Harry.

Albus Dumbledore looked as ancient as his years as he listened intently, dressed in his long woolen nightgown, sitting behind his desk. But for all his apparent distress at the news, Dumbledore was comforted by Harry’s relatively calm demeanor. The headmaster felt a swell of satisfaction when his eyes flicked to Mrs Potter as she sat in Harry’s lap, both arms curled around him. 

He glanced also at Nymphadora Tonks, who sat nearby, biting a fingernail, looking extremely worried as she peered at Harry. Dumbledore nodded and poured four cups of hot cocoa, to each of which he added two capfuls of Dragon-Barrel Brandy.

“Please, drink up, it should help us all return to sleep once we are finished here. And please, help yourselves to the biscuits.” The headmaster gestured towards a plate of milk-chocolate covered digestives on the tea-tray. Dumbledore waited a moment for Harry to take a few sips and eat a biscuit before beginning with the questions.

“Harry,” he said gently as he leaned forward ever so slightly, “I must ask this of you - did you sense anything at all before you awoke that indicated if Voldemort became aware of your presence in his mind?”

Harry frowned pensively, trying to think of any little clue that Voldemort had been conscious of Harry’s excursion into his brain. He peered directly into Dumbledore’s clear blue eyes as he tried his best to remember, hoping that the headmaster would be able to help him recall.

“I... I’m not entirely sure sir,” he replied after a minute had passed. “I feel like there might have been a moment that he noticed something odd as he finished transforming, but I... I don’t _**think**_ it occurred to him that it was me. He seemed to just be really happy at that point to have a real... er... human body again - he was particularly excited about being completely Pureblood now.

“Whatever it was he noticed, I get the feeling that Voldemort just chalked it up to a sort of brief side-effect of the... er... the spell. I’m not sure that he liked that bit in any case.”

“Good, yes... very good...” Dumbledore nodded again, and his eyes gleamed momentarily before he broke contact and took another sip of his own cocoa, smiling at Hermione. “Yes Harry, I think you are correct... And I believe that Mrs Potter’s presence provided you with a natural bulwark just as I had hoped it would.”

Despite himself - the horror that he’d just been through - Harry couldn’t resist a quick smile at Hermione as he squeezed her a bit tighter. Hermione let out a huge sigh of relief and her anxious eyes relaxed, fluttering shyly as she turned pink. Dumbledore waited a moment as everyone drank more of the hot cocoa and had another biscuit.

“Now,” the headmaster began again, peering once more at Harry, “I believe you mentioned that you had gleaned his location this time - before he departed in any case...”

“Yeah... I did,” Harry replied, nodding. “He was at his dad’s place. He was sick of living in it - you were right about Voldemort having some muggle parentage - it was an old manor I think, near a town called Little Hangleton...”

“Little Hangleton?” Dumbledore’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Well... that is _**very**_ interesting - it would seem quite likely then that Voldemort - Riddle - might well be related to a very old wizarding bloodline which has very nearly died out. It would explain why Voldemort believes himself to be Slytherin's heir... 

“I think I’ll have Kingsley look into the more recent history of the family tomorrow - _Miss_ Tonks, please be sure to remind me...” Dumbledore gave Dora a wink and she quickly yanked out of her mouth the fingernail on which she was anxiously chewing. 

“Er... yeah!” Dora blushed. “Sure thing Professor Dumbledore, sir... no problem!”

“Very good then,” said Dumbledore, his eyes beginning to twinkle. He refilled everyone’s mugs with more hot cocoa and splashes of brandy. “Not to worry about waking too early for classes tomorrow - we shall all be taking a field trip with Alastor, and I think Kingsley as well - yes, with you too Miss Tonks... So get some rest and sleep in a bit as needed. Have a bit of a late breakfast and meet me in my office at nine am.”

They all sat and drank the cocoa and had another biscuit quietly for a few minutes. When he saw Harry beginning to look a bit drowsy again, one final thought occurred to Dumbledore.

“Just one last question then before we say goodnight, Harry. Did Voldemort give any indication of when he might be attempting to contact his former followers?” 

“Er... soonish - I think,” said Harry, “but I’m not sure if he’s got a set time-table. It seemed like he’s just looking for a new place to hole up, and when he finds something to his liking he’s planning to see who shows up when he puts the call out... he’s not very pleased with them.” 

Harry frowned slightly, expecting that things might be a bit rough for him again when that happened - not to mention that he was worried that he might be forced to witness Voldemort killing more people when he found a suitable place to stay. Hermione seemed to be thinking much the same thing.

“Don’t worry Harry,” she murmured sympathetically, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be with you - as long as we’re together, you’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, you’re right Hermione...” Harry smiled at his wife gratefully before turning back to Dumbledore. “See you in the morning then, sir... G’night.”

“Good night Harry, Mrs Potter,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling, “and to you as well Miss Tonks.”

“... _Miss_ Tonks? Blimey!” Dora grumbled as she escorted Harry and Hermione back to their quarters. “Never thought I’d hear anyone call me that again. Suppose that’s what I get for bein’ so quick to ditch being an Auror and coming back to Hogwarts...”

“Not that I’d trade it for anything though - mind you,” she added quickly as she grinned at the Potters. “I... er...” Suddenly Dora felt a bit flustered and reddened as she peered at Harry and Hermione. “I dunno - I feel more myself and at home around you two than I’ve felt around anyone else in a long time.”

“It’s alright Dora,” said Hermione kindly, glancing at Harry, who looked happy and slightly confused as well. “Of course you do! We’re family!” 

“Yeah... yeah I suppose so - that must be it,” Dora grinned again at Harry and Hermione and gave them each a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “Look after each other then... ‘Night you two!”

As they pulled off dressing gowns and slippers and clambered back into bed, Hermione snuggled right up against Harry and entwined herself around him, kissing him once more. As the heat of their embrace mingled with the soporific effects of the brandy and cocoa, Harry found himself adrift, floating on a fuzzy warm cloud, slipping further and further away from the anxiety which had resurfaced while recounting his experience in Dumbledore’s office...

**~o0o~**

Despite waking up the following morning feeling much better than he had any right to, the image of the little boy continued to haunt Harry, and the pricking of his scar told him that Voldemort was still searching for suitable lodgings. Hermione’s kisses helped loads, and for moments at a time, Harry could almost believe that nothing terrible had happened. But as he spooned porridge into his mouth, he began to feel very queasy. He tried to gnaw on a piece of bacon and felt like he might throw up.

Harry pushed his plate and bowl away barely touched. Hermione looked at him sorrowfully, unable to finish her breakfast either, her own stomach tied up in knots. She took his hand and squeezed it gently.

“Give it time Harry,” she said quietly. “Perhaps just some tea is best for now.”

Harry nodded in response. 

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely after a moment, “if we’re going to visit the actual scene with Dumbledore, it probably _**is**_ better...” Harry trailed off, knowing that he didn’t have to say why. Hermione bit her lip and cast her eyes down, swallowing anxiously.

Dora looked rather subdued herself when she collected the Potters shortly before nine; her spiky hair seemed listless and the shade of pink not as bright as it might have been. They didn’t talk much beyond saying hello as they made their way to Dumbledore’s office. The corridors were quiet as most students were in classes. They were all surprised to see Dumbledore awaiting their arrival with the Sword of Gryffindor in hand.

“Ah, yes, I don’t know if we’ll be needing this, but it’s best to be prepared for any eventuality,” said the headmaster. “In any case, Alastor and Kingsley went on ahead early this morning and set up a floo link, so we shall be traveling directly...” 

Dumbledore’s clear blue eyes flickered apologetically at Harry and Hermione.

“I am sorry that either of you have to bear witness to what awaits us at the other end,” he said quietly. “If circumstances were different, I would not subject you to this at all. Indeed, at one time I might have conducted such an excursion without any accompaniment whatsoever. But Harry’s connection to Voldemort may be invaluable in discerning whatever we may find - and beyond that, I must say that I have come to highly regard the resourcefulness of you both...”

Warmth returned to the headmaster’s eyes as he peered at the Potters and Nymphadora Tonks and he continued even more softly, with a hint of abashment in his tone, “And I have also grown far more accustomed in recent years to returning the trust that others have placed in me. Tonks, the floo is already prepared - if you would be so kind as to lead the way...”

Dora nodded, her brow furrowing, feeling slightly puzzled. 

“Er... Yeah! Alright - see you lot on the other side.” With a last glance at Harry and Hermione, Dora stepped into the green flames in the hearth and vanished. Harry took a deep breath and followed in after her.

Slivers of light pierced the whorls of dust and ash, striking Harry’s eyes and temporarily blinding him as he staggered out of the fireplace at the other end, coughing and wheezing, head spinning, reminded about everything that he hated about floo travel. Dora was still hacking and looking rather dazed herself, sprawled as she was on the worn and faded Persian rug in front of him. Harry had little time to process the sight or recover himself.

“Ow!” he yelped when Hermione stumbled out of the hearth and fell into him.

“Sorry Harry,” she gasped dizzily, “we should get out of the way. Dumbledore is right behind me.”

Harry quickly grasped his wife and pulled her aside to wait for Dumbledore while she doubled over and coughed. He blinked and was finally able to make out the imposing figures of Professor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt silhouetted against the bright rays. Moody appeared to be shaking his head and grimacing at the less than graceful arrivals of the three youngsters. The Potters each reached out a hand to help Dora up from the floor. 

“Thanks guys,” Dora muttered as she dusted herself off. “I bloody hate floo travel - I prefer a broom any day of the week.”

Harry nearly grinned. “Yeah, me too...”

Then, with great trepidation, Harry glanced around the room which he had only seen in darkness and candlelight. Sunlight streamed through the gaps and tears in the mildewy curtains into the dusty cobwebbed sitting room with peeling wallpaper. At one time the room might have been opulent, but the threadbare armchairs and old furniture riddled with woodworm indicated that it was now passing into decay. 

Harry stiffened when he spied what looked like a blood-soaked sheet covering something lumpy on the coffee table, but he was glad that either Moody or Shacklebolt had thought to spare the newcomers, and that Hermione wouldn’t have to endure looking at the horror that lay beneath. 

But as Hermione recovered from her trip through the floo, her breath caught and her nose wrinkled in disgust at the stench of death. She gripped Harry tightly and pulled closer to him, coiling an arm around his waist. Dora suddenly looked more than a bit ill herself. Harry’s stomach clenched when the odor finally hit his own nostrils, but he was distracted when Dumbledore emerged from the green flames as serenely as if he had merely stepped through a doorway.

The headmaster’s piercing gaze quickly took in his surroundings.

“So, this is Riddle Manor...” he murmured, a strong hint of curiosity in his tone. 

Shacklebolt nodded, his voice solemn and deep when he spoke. “Indeed! There is a small cemetery at the bottom of the hill where lies the grave of his father.”

“And as you can see, this is definitely where it happened last night,” growled Moody, his glass eye swiveling to peer at the sheet covered body on the coffee table. Dumbledore nodded, a flicker of grief crossing his features.

“But he’s gone now,” said Harry quietly, his jaw tightening as he stared at the empty chair which had held the revolting creature that had become the reborn Voldemort last night. “He’s gone... and there’s nothing else here...” Harry glanced at Hermione and the headmaster meaningfully.

“No horcrux,” he added when he saw Dora looking puzzled. “I’d feel it if there was...”

“Oh... er... right!” Comprehension dawned as Dora remembered what Sirius had told her. She swallowed as she peered at Harry sadly, understanding more clearly why Dumbledore had asked him and Hermione to come too.

“Yes, I suppose this would be an unlikely place...” sighed Dumbledore. “The home of his muggle father whom he must have hated. But perhaps elsewhere...?”

“Alastor and I have canvassed the village and surrounds,” said Kingsley, “And we’ve found something else that you’ll want to see nearby...”

“Ah, yes... The Gaunt home,” Dumbledore nodded.

“If you can call it that,” muttered Professor Moody. “Barely still standin’... Might as well head over there an’ take a look at it now I suppose...” 

“Voldemort may appear to be gone, but stay vigilant,” he suddenly barked, his electric blue eye spinning to bore into Harry and Hermione, “You never know what’s waitin’ for yeh.”

Hermione shivered slightly and Harry swallowed nervously. Dora rolled her eyes.

“Come on you two,” she said quietly to Harry and Hermione as Mad Eye and Shacklebolt led the way. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your backs - we all do!”

Harry and Hermione blinked in the bright sunlight when they followed Kingsley, Moody, and Dumbledore outside as Dora brought up the rear. They weren’t quite certain where they were in England, but it was a fair bit warmer than Scotland. It felt closer to Spring wherever they were, and they were just glad to be out of Riddle Manor, away from that horrible room.

The traipse around the wooded hillside and the hedgerows which skirted the village of Little Hangleton took the small group of wizards a good fifteen or twenty minutes. Harry almost enjoyed the walk, arm in arm with Hermione, feeling his head clear a bit as he strolled along the crumbling country lane full of potholes under blue skies. 

It was almost pleasant - seeing the new growth on the trees and the budding wildflowers, even the robust weeds and grasses in the gully at the side of the road - hearing birds chirping, the croaks of frogs and the buzz of insects. The gleaming golden highlights of Hermione’s curls caught the sun, and for a moment Harry was almost able to forget why they were here.

Finally, a short distance from the road in the shadowy midst of a copse of gnarled ancient oak-trees, they spied a small cottage in worse condition than the Shrieking Shack. Nettles and moss crawled up its rotting walls, the sagging roof was full of holes and looked near collapse. The door was nearly falling off its hinges, and nothing was left in the windows but a few shards of grimy glass.

“The Gaunt house...” Shacklebolt said to Dumbledore. “I looked into the family earlier this morning as you requested. And I have someone I trust - Auror Abbie Brixton - still gathering whatever information we can from a very old retired Auror - Bob Ogden - as we speak, to try and find out more... It’s a bit touch and go at the moment though, because Ogden is dying...”

“Ah, Ms Brixton, very good,” Dumbledore interjected, a fond look in his eye. “Another sharp-witted and compassionate one like our young Mrs Potter here, and like Harry’s mother,” he added with a wink at Harry and Hermione, “Very trustworthy indeed.”

Hermione blushed slightly and Harry managed a little smile. 

“Yeah, Abbie’s a real sweetie,” Dora whispered conspiratorially as she leaned closer to the Potters. “I always liked her - not as stuffy as most other Aurors...”

“Anyway,” continued Shacklebolt, addressing Dumbledore with a slightly amused expression, not having heard Tonks, but knowing her well enough to guess what she was telling the Potters, “from what Alastor and I could glean from some of the oldest residents of Little Hangleton - putting it together with what we have from Ogden thus far - Merope Gaunt was at one time married to Tom Riddle Senior. But he returned to the village without her sometime later, telling all who would listen that he had been hoodwinked.”

“That fits what little I know - Tom Riddle _Junior’s_ mother died very shortly after giving birth to him in a muggle orphanage, but they had no records pertaining to the mother herself. I’d like to see all of Ogden’s memories related to the Gaunts,” Dumbledore responded, “Please inform Brixton to collect them for me.”

“I’ll send a message straight away then!” said Shacklebolt, “Though, before I do, you might also be very interested to know that there is one surviving Gaunt - Morfin Gaunt, the brother of Merope, currently residing in Azkaban for the murder of Tom Riddle Senior and his parents many years ago...”

“You don’t say!” interjected Dumbledore, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “That _**is**_ intriguing indeed. Perhaps you could have Amelia arrange an interview with Morfin for me - it will have to be done quietly as we do not wish to alert the Minister or Scrimgeour of course.” 

“Of course!” Kingsley Shacklebolt agreed wryly, “That can be arranged when I return to Riddle Manor to sort out where to send the remains of the boy. Just give me a few minutes now to send a message to Brixton.”

Dumbledore nodded and Shacklebolt took a moment to send a Patronus with the message to Auror Brixton before the wizards continued down the lane towards the decrepit hovel. Harry and Hermione both watched Kingsley with great interest as Moody, Dumbledore, and Dora spread out a bit to keep an eye out for any potential danger or approaching muggles.

“I had no idea Patronuses could do that!” Hermione gasped.

“Yeah, me neither,” said Harry, his eyes growing bigger. “Lupin never mentioned it...”

“...And it’s not a feature of Corporeal Patronuses listed in the Advanced Charms book from the Hogwarts library...” Hermione continued eagerly. 

A sudden thought struck Harry when he remembered how unusually powerful their Patronuses had been during third year. According to Lupin in one of their lessons, even the strongest Corporeal Patronuses of those few adult wizards who could actually perform them could usually only repel anywhere from ten to twenty Dementors at a time at best. But he and Hermione had sent two hundred Dementors packing without even quite knowing how they’d managed it. 

Harry had simply hoped that he and Hermione could repel as many as possible until maybe Snape could pull himself together and get more help somehow, but all the Dementors had fled Hogwarts as if their very lives had depended on it. But _why_ had the Dementors seemed so frightened of their Patronuses, if they supposedly couldn’t be destroyed? 

What if their Patronuses could do more than most people imagined was possible? What if Dementors weren’t as indestructible as most wizards believed? Harry chewed his lip pensively, looking briefly like his wife often did, as he wondered if the full potential of a Patronus had ever been reached.

“Hermione, I think we should start practicing our Patronuses again...” he said excitedly, “experiment a bit. See what else they can do - see how far we can push them!” 

“Yes! That’s an _excellent_ idea!” Hermione beamed at Harry, “We can try sending messages too...”

“Yeah, but I was actually thinking of something else...” Harry trailed off as Kingsley Shacklebolt finished sending the message and the others returned. Hermione gave Harry a puzzled look.

“I’ll tell you later...” said Harry quietly, flushing slightly, not wanting to speculate wildly in front of wizards much older and more experienced than he was. “...I’m probably just off my nut!”

As the wizards finally left the road and strode up the weedy overgrown cobblestone pathway towards the wretched shack, Harry’s stomach knotted again as his scar began to prickle and burn. He grit his teeth as the pain grew stronger the closer they got to the Gaunt home. The hovel almost seemed to be shrouded by an invisible cloud of evil, and for a brief terrifying moment, Harry wondered if Voldemort and Wormtail were actually inside. But he knew it wasn’t true almost as soon as the thought had occurred.

 _“Harry!”_ squeaked Hermione when he staggered slightly, his knees wobbling, beads of sweat forming on his brow as they approached the broken door. 

“I’ll be alright!” Harry set his jaw and breathed deeply as he took his wife’s hand. “There’s one in here - a horcrux - I can feel it...”

Professor Moody and Shacklebolt glanced at one another and stiffened. Moody’s eye spun around wildly looking for booby traps. Dora swallowed anxiously when she saw how pale Harry looked; she began to chew on a fingernail then caught herself and stopped before the older wizards noticed. 

“I suspected we might find something,” sighed the headmaster as the Sword of Gryffindor clutched in his hand caught a ray of sunlight. “I had almost hoped not though... How many of those _**damned**_ things did Riddle make?” Dumbledore asked nobody in particular.

“Hermione,” said Harry hoarsely, his heart pounding as he gripped her hand, “let’s do this.”

Hermione nodded, her breath quickening. Even though she didn’t have Harry’s extra-sensory connection to Voldemort, something about the tiny little house frightened her. There was something almost palpable about the sense of foreboding and doom it exuded - something as horrid as the smell of death that they’d left behind in Riddle Manor.

Steeling himself, Harry reached out a shaking hand and pushed open the creaking door.

“Careful Harry,” called out Dora. “Don’t touch anything in there. Let Mad Eye take care of it...”

But Harry could barely hear her as the world fell into silence and the walls of the shack seemed to close in on him, his heart thumping in his ears the only sound which registered. Harry glanced around breathing rapidly as spiders scurried into the corners of the hut, his eyes taking in the dust of ages layered thickly on the spindly wooden table and the bowing shelves. 

Splintery floorboards groaned under his and Hermione’s feet. Slowly, carefully, Professor Moody entered behind them, wand at the ready, his whizzing eyeball taking in everything. Harry stopped suddenly and Hermione squeaked when his grip on her hand tightened.

“Th...there... ” Harry pointed towards a cracked plank in the floor near the corner of the room by a broken chair. “...it’s under that floorboard.”

“I see it,” growled Moody, as his spinning eye halted on the plank. “Good work Potter - now outside, the both of you. I’ve got this.”

Harry nodded; he was only too happy to get himself and Hermione out of the horrible shack. 

Moody pried loose the cracked floorboard, finding a small leather pouch hidden beneath. He brought it out into the bright sunlight and kneeled next to the path. Everyone crouched down beside him as he opened the pouch and carefully shook it over a cobblestone. 

A gold ring inset with an engraved black gemstone tumbled out and clattered onto the rocky slab.

“Morgana’s Sagging Tits!” sputtered Moody, his real eye bulging as he peered at the engraving on the stone, “Albus, you don’t suppose...?”

Dumbledore nodded, his own eyes widening. Kingsley, Dora, and the Potters looked bewildered.

“Peverell’s ring,” croaked the Headmaster. “ _Yes,_ Alastor, that engraving is indeed the Peverell insignia - the ‘coat of arms’ if you will - the ‘Deathly Hallows’... This would appear to be the one belonging to Cadmus. If a Peverell married into the Gaunt bloodline, it is quite probable then that Voldemort is a descendant of Cadmus Peverell. Which would mean that Harry here is very likely distantly related, as he is a descendant of Ignotus Peverell.”

“Wait, _**what?”**_ Harry gasped in horror. He hadn’t thought that this day could get any worse. “I... I’m related to... to _**Voldemort!”**_

“It would appear to be likely, Harry,” Dumbledore replied as he stroked his long silvery beard. “But only very distantly, one would have to go back many hundreds of years to meet your common ancestors.” 

“It is nothing you should be concerned about, Harry,” the headmaster continued softly, “Please believe me, it bears no meaning as to who you are today... ”

To say that Harry was appalled at discovering himself to be a distant relative of Voldemort under these circumstances was an understatement. The blood drained from his face and he gulped. A sickly feeling of revulsion overtook him, and his already painful head began spinning. He opened his mouth, but found that he couldn’t speak as he started to breathe rapidly again. 

Harry glanced at Hermione’s own shocked expression. What if she hated him now? Part of him knew she wouldn’t, but if he felt sick about it inside, maybe she did too.

 ** _“Harry,”_** Hermione said quickly, understanding all too well the look on his face, “You heard Professor Dumbledore. It doesn’t mean a thing. If you go back far enough, we could all be related - every single one of us right here, right now... It doesn’t change how I feel about you! Not one little bit!”

Hermione flung her arms around Harry again and squeezed him tightly. Harry nodded slowly as he began to feel a little better. 

“Th...thanks Hermione... I know! I’m just being stupid...” he sighed. 

He knew she was right; the idea of possibly being distantly related to Voldemort would just take a lot of getting used to. In the meantime, he had more than enough to concern him at the moment, his scar throbbing badly as it sensed the Evil pulsing in the Ring like a heartbeat.

Harry briefly wondered what the Deathly Hallows were. Only Dumbledore and Moody seemed to know. Dumbledore’s attention had turned back to the Ring. The headmaster almost seemed entranced - lost in his own little world. His hand reached out towards the Ring. 

Harry wanted to shout - to tell Dumbledore to stop. He didn’t know how he knew, but Voldemort had done something more to the Ring beyond turning it into a horcrux - something to ensure that none but himself could touch it. But before Harry could form the words, Professor Moody sharply swatted Dumbledore’s hand away.

 _ **“Are you Bloody Mad?”**_ Moody snapped loudly, making Dora jump, “That thing is probably Cursed, Albus. Use the Sword on it and be done with it.”

The headmaster’s eyes cleared; he looked aghast at what he had almost unwittingly done.

“Yes... yes,” Dumbledore said shakily. “You’re quite right Alastor! Thank you!”

Dumbledore glanced at Harry and decided that with everything he’d had to face since last night, Harry had dealt with quite enough already. He motioned everyone to stand back and lifted the Sword of Gryffindor above his head. The gleaming blade of the sword flashed in the morning sun as it swung down and struck the Ring.

The Ring shuddered violently; a shrieking cacophony rent the air, whipping the wizards’ robes and the long weedy grasses surrounding them in a tempestuous gale. Harry’s face contorted as he groaned.

Billowing dark smoke poured from the Ring and the gemstone cracked - black death venomously oozed onto the cobblestone. After a few moments passed, the screaming Ring stopped shaking and the whirling column of smoke dissipated. It was finished.

Everyone let out a huge sigh of relief, especially Harry who had felt like his scar was about to burst, as it always did when a horcrux was destroyed. He slumped in Hermione’s arms as Dora clapped a hand to her mouth and tried to blink back the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Dora was still trembling; she had never seen Harry in so much pain, not even after a Mad Eye workout or following the Second Task.

Moody grimaced at the headmaster who was staring at the cracked Ring on the cobblestone.

“It’s all yours now Albus. Do whatever yeh want with it.” Moody turned his eye to Harry, who was gasping while Hermione embraced him as the blistering pain in his scar ebbed.

“Well done Potter!” said Moody in the gentlest growl that Harry had ever heard from the gruff ex-Auror. “Thanks to you, that wee lad back at the manor got a small measure of justice... Voldemort may think he’s back at full-strength, but today he’s another horcrux down, and another step closer to bein’ full-dead!”

Hermione peered earnestly and hopefully into Harry’s eyes. “He’s right Harry. Maybe... perhaps now you’ll be able to move on... just a bit...?”

It took a moment for Professor Moody’s and Hermione’s words to sink in, but as Hermione cuddled him and the searing pain continued to lessen, Harry felt a small surge of grim satisfaction, and the feelings of guilt which had been dogging him at intervals since last night truly began to abate. He knew he’d never be able to forget, but the memory didn’t hurt quite so much.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Hermione,” Harry murmured when he finally recovered his voice, pressing his lips to hers. 

As the kiss deepened, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dumbledore, and Moody turned away and Dora wiped her teary eyes on her sleeve.

**~o0o~**

“Is it always as bad as that?” asked Dora after washing down a bite of burger with a sip of Coke.

Hermione glanced at Harry who was still chewing; she nodded sadly. 

“Yes, it’s usually quite horrid for poor Harry,” she replied before eating another chip. 

Dumbledore had already flooed back to Hogwarts with Professor Moody, leaving Shacklebolt to arrange things with the right people in the Auror Office and see that the remains of the boy were returned to his family. Dora had insisted that it would make her too ill to use the floo in that room back at the manor, and suggested that she and the Potters disguise themselves and take a muggle bus to another town and return through a public floo in a wizard pub. But Hermione could tell that she’d said that mostly for Harry’s sake. 

Dora had then treated Harry and Hermione to burgers and chips from a little take-out burger shop on the other side of Little Hangleton, which they were now eating while watching ducks playing by a creek. The Potters were both hungry, and felt more able to eat than they had that morning. Harry swallowed and responded to Dora’s question personally.

“Yeah... the intensity seems to vary a bit - it’s been a little bit different around each horcrux in terms of how close I have to get before it hurts really badly, but it’s always pretty much the same when we destroy them... which is really horrible - feels like my scar’s on fire and about to split open. It’d be loads worse without Hermione though...” Harry beamed gratefully at his wife. “...she always makes me feel better.” 

Hermione blushed and shyly returned Harry’s smile. Dora’s hair brightened several shades and she grinned to see the Potters both looking so cheered.


	29. The Turn of the Worm: Part 1

The ducks gathered around the bench, quacking greedily as Harry chucked his last few chips for the squabbling waterfowl. Finished with his burger and chips, Harry glanced about to make sure that nobody else was around. Then with his wand, he banished the rubbish into a bin a bit further down the creekside path.

“Nice shot!” said Dora with a grin as she tossed a few of her own chips for the ducks.

“Yes, Harry’s got excellent aim!” beamed Hermione.

“Probably from all that practice using stunning spells on Snitches.” Harry grinned properly for the first time since the previous day, then took another sip of his Coke. But he still felt the unsettling thoughts simmering at the back of his mind. Harry cleared his throat.

“Dora,” he began tentatively, “...er... I hope you don’t mind me asking - you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to - but have you ever... erm... you know... seen anything horrible - as an Auror I mean...?”

Dora understood Harry’s question all too well, and why he was asking it; she gave him a sad little smile. Hermione squeezed Harry’s hand comfortingly.

“Well, most people are surprised to hear this,” Dora responded, “but relatively few cases we get actually involve murder these days. I ‘aven’t seen as much as Mad Eye or Shacklebolt - I haven’t been around long enough - they’d really be the ones to ask. Still - there was this one case I assisted on which was particularly nasty. 

“You don’t really need the gory details, but I’ll probably never forget the sight of the body. I did ‘ave a few nightmares for a bit... I will say this though, eventually I more or less got over the worst feelings. It does get better Harry.”

Harry nodded, sighing. “Yeah... that’s what I thought. I suppose I’ll eventually get over it, but I dunno - it was like I was actually participating though.”

Hermione slipped her arms around Harry’s middle, giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek before leaning her bushy head on his shoulder. 

“It’s alright Harry,” she said quietly. “If you have any nightmares, I’ll be right beside you...”

“An’ I’ll be right next door if you both need me again... whatever time of night, for whatever reason,” Dora gave Harry another little smile.

“Thanks guys - I do feel loads better than I did last night at least,” he said, giving the top of Hermione’s head a little kiss and returning Dora’s smile.

The trio finished the rest of their early lunch and binned the rest of the rubbish, showing their empty hands to the still hopeful ducks before disguising themselves and making their way to find a bus-stop. Two hours later they were in a larger town some thirty miles distant from Little Hangleton, where Dora located a wizard pub. 

Harry was a bit puzzled when Dora threw the sparkling green powder in the pub’s fireplace and spoke the name of the Hog’s Head Inn, a pub in Hogsmeade which he’d only glanced in once. Hermione looked equally bewildered, having thought they’d be returning directly to Dumbledore’s office.

“Just to be safe,” Dora whispered, seeing the Potters’ perplexed expressions. “Don’t wanna give anyone suspicious any ideas about who we really are.”

Comprehension dawned on the Potters’ faces, and they both followed Dora into the green flames. They emerged into the dingy pub at the other end, where nobody gave them a second look, used to strangers and odd folk coming and going as they were. Dora gave the bartender a wink, as he was the only one who seemed to recognise the disguise currently hiding her identity. The elderly looking bartender uttered a surly grunt and went about his business.

“There’s something familiar about the bartender,” murmured Hermione after they had departed the Hog’s Head and begun the trek along the path towards Hogwarts, “but I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Same here,” Harry muttered, his brow furrowed pensively. “That’s what I thought the day we were looking for Hagrid.”

“Oh, that’s Aberforth, Dumbledore’s brother,” said Dora. “He’s a member of the Order too...” 

“Dumbledore’s got a brother!?” gasped Harry, glancing quickly at Hermione, who seemed equally surprised by the news. “I... I never knew - Dumbledore never mentioned him before.”

“I don’t think they get on much, really...” Dora shrugged uncertainly. “Aberforth’s a bit grumpy, but I dunno why.”

Curiosity about Dumbledore's relationship with his brother niggled at Harry and Hermione all the way back up to Hogwarts. Harry and Dora morphed back into their usual selves and Dora undid the disguise spells she had placed on Hermione just before they reached the gate. After reaching the castle, they made their way to the marble staircase, surprised to see Karkaroff glancing around nervously and rubbing his forearm as he headed for the dungeons.

**~o0o~**

The Warlock with long platinum hair strode resolutely through the Ministry as if he owned the place, making his way to the Minister’s office, pondering the purpose of her request to meet today. The next Task wasn’t for months, and there was no legislation pending before any Wizengamot committee which required his personal attention currently - his proxy was more than capable of handling any legislative issues. He absentmindedly scratched at his forearm before rapping on the Minister’s door with the silver snake-head which topped his cane.

“You may enter,” called out a high pitched voice from inside. 

The Warlock pushed the door open and raised his eyebrows to see the other who was visiting with the Minister. The Warlock gave the Unspeakable a thin smile and a nod. Clearly something had come up.

“Thank you for coming Lucius,” the Minister greeted the Warlock in honeyed tones, “My apologies if I have interrupted anything of importance.”

“Not at all Dolores,” the Warlock replied. “If Augustus is meeting with us as well, I must presume that whatever we are here to discuss is of top priority.”

“Quite so,” Dolores agreed. “Augustus has been an invaluable asset - I cannot thank you enough for suggesting his release from Azkaban, Lucius...” 

“As do I myself,” Augustus interjected with a chuckle.

“Indeed,” said Dolores wryly. “In any case, Augustus has brought something to my attention which concerns all of us greatly. I must ask you, have you noticed anything... unusual about the Mark you bear on your forearm, Lucius?” 

His left hand twitching reflexively, Lucius Malfoy paled slightly and glanced at Augustus Rookwood.

“Yes...” hissed Lucius after a moment, “Am I to take it then, that there is some... significance beyond the personal regarding the clarity of the Mark and the associated... twinge?” 

“Since last night at midnight?” asked Rookwood.

“I first became aware when I awoke this morning,” Lucius responded. “But surely this cannot mean...”

“The Dark Lord has returned,” Rookwood interjected curtly. “Apparently he was not quite as dead as we had believed.” 

“How can you be so certain?” Lucius Malfoy peered at the Unspeakable questioningly.

“I think you know as well as I do that the clarity of the Mark on the both of us can only mean one thing,” Augustus replied pointedly, his eyebrows raised. “No doubt it is noticeable to the others as well. Though had the Dark Lord called for us, there would be no question of his reconstitution at all.” 

Minister Dolores Umbridge eyed Lucius, carefully studying his manner as he reacted to the news, noting the flare of his nostrils and the hesitation in his eyes. For a moment she considered not revealing the capture and interrogation of Barty Crouch’s son, but she decided against that course of action. In this instance, the truth - or at least a close approximation of it - would be most determinative of where Lucius Malfoy’s loyalties would ultimately lie.

“My _dear_ Lucius,” Dolores began in her most breathy, girlish voice, “this is _quite_ a surprise to us all - and no doubt very shocking. But this would appear to confirm a tale which I had believed to be madness - the demented ravings of Barty Crouch Junior who had escaped Azkaban with the intention of kidnapping and murdering Harry Potter. 

“Crouch Junior was captured by Dumbledore and turned over the Ministry not so long ago - it was all kept very quiet of course. Under interrogation, Barty had claimed to have been tasked by Voldemort himself, but he seemed deranged beyond repair at the time and died before we were able to extract any useful information. But now, it seems that he may have indeed been sent to Hogwarts under orders... Voldemort’s orders that is.

“Under other circumstances - if Fudge were still in office - Voldemort’s return might even be welcome news... but we all know how much of a liability the Dark Lord ended up becoming to our goals. 

“And his latest failure is yet another example of his unreliability. Whatever gains he had made for our cause were wiped out overnight thirteen years ago due to his carelessness... and to his exceeding arrogance. 

“Had he succeeded, it _**might**_ have perhaps been more than worth it, but how many of his own followers who suffered or lost their lives to his failures and his temper tantrums can sincerely say that now with hindsight. Not only did Voldemort bring about his own defeat, but he singlehandedly _**martyred**_ the Potters and turned Dumbledore and the Potter boy into Living Icons, setting our agenda back decades.

“The Dark Lord is unreliable, and in the end, his unruly behaviour is a detriment to a truly stable Pureblood Order. For the time-being, he is still quite useful to our goals as an outsider, and to keep Dumbledore on his toes, but I expect that Dumbledore will eventually defeat him again... especially if we deny Voldemort the backing that he had during the last war. 

“In the meantime, our _**own**_ plan to destabilise Dumbledore is working - despite Potter’s continued existence - they are both losing the credibility that Voldemort himself bestowed upon them. And if we play our cards right, we can use the feud between Voldemort and Dumbledore to our own advantage.” 

Dolores was heartened to see a sly smile creep to Lucius Malfoy’s lips as his eyes narrowed and his jaw set in steely resolve. 

“Yes!” Lucius drawled as he nodded slowly. “Yes indeed Dolores! You are as sensible as always... The Dark Lord is extremely powerful and dangerous, but with few followers he will be at a great disadvantage, and he may still be weakened by his defeat. If fortune smiles upon us, he and Dumbledore might even kill each other off. 

“I will speak with the others immediately. If the Dark Lord does indeed call upon us, I cannot promise that none at all will answer him, but I believe that I can guarantee that very few shall return to his side...”

**~o0o~**

The Durmstrang headmaster fidgeted as he awaited the end of the lesson, desperate to speak to the Potions Master. Karkaroff was scared witless. The Mark on his left arm had itched since midnight, clearer than it had been for the past thirteen years and he didn’t know what to do. Finally, the students departed the dungeon and Severus Snape raised his eyebrows at Igor Karkaroff.

“Is there a problem Igor? I am rather busy...”

 _ **“This!”**_ hissed the silver haired wizard half-angrily as he yanked up his sleeve. “You must have noticed. Surely it can only mean one thing Severus. And if so...”

“...You intend to leave Britain? You wish me to help you run away and hide?” His expression unnervingly cool, Severus continued to eye Igor Karkaroff. “And what _then_... What of the Triwizard Tournament?” he continued. “What is to become of your students? ...your school?’ 

“But I _**must**_ \- He’ll kill me if I stay!” Igor gasped, “I betrayed Him and all of the rest. _You_ of all people should be able to grasp that. Are you not Dumbledore’s man now?”

Severus Snape penetrated Karkaroff’s eyes with his own, and he saw that indeed, the silver-haired wizard just wanted to get away - he had no intentions of rejoining Voldemort. A vein began to throb in Snape’s forehead. It would be so easy to simply let the Dark Lord kill Igor, but Severus had his orders from Dumbledore. 

Too much was at stake while the Minister was apparently moving ahead with her own plans. It wouldn't do for her to find Igor alone and unprotected, and to blackmail him into joining her efforts. Severus shook his head and sighed, knowing that very soon he would also have to reveal his own sordid past to Harry Potter.

“Igor... I guarantee, you are much safer here at Hogwarts than anywhere else at the moment. Dumbledore will protect you.”

“How can you be so certain?” Igor’s voice quavered. “There is no love lost between Dumbledore and myself - no trust... He believes I ordered the assassination of Potter. I would be no safer...”

“There is always the Unbreakable Vow,” Severus retorted with a hint of a sneer. Then, remembering his task, Snape restrained himself, savagely squashing the disdain he felt for the cowardice of the man in front of him. 

“Join us,” said Severus more softly, “Make the Vow Igor, and I _promise_ that Dumbledore will host you until such a time as the Dark Lord is.... _**permanently**_ defeated.”

**~o0o~**

“I’m sorry we weren’t able to watch the Second Task in person, Harry!” Sirius said glumly, peering at his godson from the other side of the mirror, Lupin at his side.

“It’s alright,” said Harry. “Hermione and I reckoned that you mightn’t show up considering Skeeter’s horrid article about Professor Lupin and Hagrid,” 

“Indeed Harry, we did think it best to avoid being seen at Hogwarts at the moment,” sighed Lupin. “You see, unfortunately the Ministry has issued a warrant for my arrest...”

“You’re joking!” Harry gasped.

“What on earth for?” squeaked Hermione.

“Some children were killed recently in a manner that the Ministry decided had all the bearings of a werewolf attack - and apparently they’ve fingered me as the culprit...”

“That’s ridiculous!” snapped Hermione. “They can’t possibly have any evidence that it was you.”

“Quite true!” Lupin replied. “But be that as it may, undoubtedly the narrative suits the Minister’s current agenda against Dumbledore for hiring me. And Dumbledore agrees - so I’m stuck here for the time-being...”

“...Under my protection of course. I’ll have you all to myself, Remus,” Sirius added with a rakish grin and a wink, trying to lighten the mood. He turned back to Harry. “Number Twelve is under a number of concealment and protection charms as you well know, so nobody except a few people I trust are even aware of its existence.” 

“Erm...” Harry began tentatively with a glance at Hermione, “that’s what I wanted to talk to you about actually. I was... er... I was wondering if you’d be able to look after Hermione’s mum and aunt - have them there...”

“Harry - what... ?” Hermione gasped, peering at her husband incredulously, “We never discussed... you never said...”

“I’ve only been thinking about it since this morning Hermione,” said Harry earnestly. “I don’t want Voldemort to track your mum and aunt down now that he’s restored himself. I don’t want you to lose them like I lost my mum and dad.”

Lupin nodded when Sirius gave him a grim look, both of the older wizards swallowing sadly.

“Of course I’ll have them here, Harry,” Sirius answered quickly. “I’d be more than happy to look after them both for you and Hermione - we’re all family now...”

Tears filled Hermione’s eyes as she cast them down, and she bit her lip. She hadn’t even considered that Voldemort might try to go after her family. But Hermione supposed that horrid wizard who had been pretending to be Ron’s pet rat would have probably told Voldemort by now that she was very close to Harry. Slowly she nodded.

“Th...thank you Sirius,” Hermione responded, her voice trembling. “I just... I’m not sure - my father... I know he was mean to me and Mum, but I don’t want him to be killed...”

Sirius’s features hardened, his voice steely. “I’m sorry Hermione, but I’ll not have that man under my roof... Not after what he did to Jean. But I’ll talk to Dumbledore... perhaps we can arrange to send your father somewhere abroad with an escort - somewhere Voldemort won’t think to look...”

“Yes!” Hermione nodded again as the tears dripped from her cheeks. “Yes... if you think that’s best...” she trailed off as Harry took her in his arms. Sirius and Lupin shared a sympathetic, knowing look.

“I’ll let you two go for now,” said Sirius gently. “Don’t worry Hermione - Remus and I shall be sure to contact Dumbledore at once to make arrangements for your father’s safety, and I’ll have your mum and aunt up here in London by this evening...”

**~o0o~**

Hermione felt much better after a nice cuddle with Harry. She knew that Sirius and Lupin were as good as their word. She sighed happily as she lay in Harry’s arms, both snuggled together on their settee. As she relaxed and began feeling more cheerful, Hermione recalled something odd that Harry had said that morning.

“Harry, when we were talking about sending messages with Patronuses earlier today, what did you mean when you said you were thinking of something else?”

“Oh... right! Patronuses,” said Harry, eager for something pleasant to chat about. “Hermione, I’ve been thinking - you remember what Flitwick told us about Charms - that they can be adjusted to meet the needs of the moment?” 

“Yes,” Hermione replied quietly, waiting for Harry to say more.

“Well, I was thinking back to how powerful our Patronuses were in Third Year...”

Hermione listened intently as Harry told her all about his speculations regarding Patronuses and whether Dementors were truly indestructible. She bit her lip as she considered all of her husband’s points.

“You know Harry, I think you might be on to something,” she said finally. “Dementors are defined as Non-beings - but that can’t _really_ be true. If it were, they wouldn’t exist at all - they’d just be figments of our imaginations - they wouldn’t be able to harm people and suck their souls out if that were true. 

“The more I think about it, it seems to me that Non-being is just a legal definition - just like the legal definition of Beasts is used against Centaurs and Merfolk to justify subjugating them. So if Dementors are in fact, some sort of being, some sort of wraith, like Boggarts are...”

“...and like Lethifolds are,” Harry continued excitedly, “then they really _can_ be destroyed. _**Exactly!**_ Lupin told us that they can only abide positive emotions in small quantities - that they prefer to feed on negative emotions - and so that’s why Corporeal Patronuses are actually able to repel them. But ours were super-strong for some reason and the Dementors hoofed it as if they were in actual danger! What if too much positive emotion is actually destructive of them?”

“Precisely Harry!” Hermione beamed. It was a testimony to how horrid she thought Dementors were that she didn’t blanche at the thought of killing them - at least under the circumstances of defending herself or others from attack. 

“I really can’t explain why our Patronuses were so much more powerful than other people’s,” she went on, “that still doesn’t make much sense to me. _**Obviously**_ the power of our emotions had something to do with it, but _**why**_ would our emotions be so qualitatively and quantitatively different from those of most other wizards?” 

Hermione frowned, then shook her head as if to put that aside for the moment. “...But in any case Harry, if we keep up our practice with Patronuses, and focus on putting as much joy into them, and as much...”

“...as much _**Love**_ into them as possible...” Harry said with such a soft look in his green eyes that it made Hermione turn pink and flutter her eyelashes shyly, “then I _**bet**_ something might actually happen to the Dementors before they had a chance to fly off and kill someone else - suck their souls out I mean...”

“...which is really just as bad,” Hermione finished quietly. Harry nodded

“Now we just need a way to generate lots and lots of joy and love...” said Hermione after a moment of silence passed between them. She bit her lip again and was still looking at Harry with a shy expression, but a naughty golden gleam flashed in her eye that made Harry gulp. “...and I think I know just the thing...” she whispered as she grinned and wrapped her arms around Harry’s waist, pulling him closer for a steamy kiss.

**~o0o~**

Despite the biting wind, it was too nice to stay inside all afternoon until dinner. After the Potters had messed about for a bit in their quarters and classes had let out for the day, Harry chased a Snitch around the quidditch pitch with Viktor. Lavender and Parvati joined Hermione in the stands, who was taking the opportunity to practice speaking French with Fleur. Dora sat nearby, doodling in her sketchbook, occasionally stealing glances at Fleur.

After an hour or so of flying, Harry leapt off his broom, grinning and ruffling his windswept hair as Hermione came down from the stands to meet him. Viktor nodded and gave Harry a wink as he departed to spend a bit of time with Lavender. Harry flopped on the grass, still panting as Hermione sat beside him, peering up at the stands where Dora was showing Parvati her sketches of Harry and Viktor in flight while flicking the pages quickly past her sketches of Fleur. 

When the other students in the stands who had been watching Harry and Viktor left as well, Hermione took the opportunity to steal a kiss with Harry, not minding that Dora and Parvati could see them. As they both lay back on the lawn, gazing up at the relatively clear blue sky, watching a flock of starlings pass by and listening to the buzz of insects, Harry began to drift...

**~o0o~**

As the afternoon wore on the Dark Lord inspected again his new body in the mirror, finding himself with a new appreciation for his Servant. Wormtail had acquitted himself well again, killing the muggles in the new manor which they had taken during the night after leaving behind forever the home of the Dark Lord’s father. Voldemort considered the many other deeds of Wormtail which had made this moment possible.

The Rodent's long-term stint as a pet in the clan of the red haired Blood-Traitors had apparently proved invaluable, providing the necessary intelligence for the task of locating and procuring a suitable sacrificial victim for the Dark Ritual. And Wormtail had not flinched when it had come time for him to kill the boy without the use of a wand. Nor had he blanched at cutting out the boy’s heart and feeding it to the Dark Lord.

Wormtail had uttered the incantation and performed the ritual to perfection, releasing the Dark Magic which had restored the Homunculus to a superior iteration of his former self. Time and again, Wormtail had shown more of an aptitude for Blood Magic than Voldemort had ever expected of the Rodent. He seemed to relish killing, and the Dark Lord began to think that he had been quite mistaken to doubt Wormtail’s loyalty and competence.

Who was it who had come searching for his Master in the Albanian wilderness when the others had forsaken their Lord? Who was it whose quick thinking and courage had inspired him to kidnap and sacrifice a Ministry Lackey in a rather spectacular Blood Ritual which had created a rudimentary Homunculus for Voldemort to inhabit, thus giving the Dark Lord an opportunity to create his final Horcrux?

Wormtail! That was who!

The Dark Lord had also plied from his Servant under one of his numerous torture sessions the remarkable story of how Wormtail had come to be missing a finger. The Rat had killed 12 muggles and sacrificed a piece of himself to frame the Blood Traitor Sirius Black. 

And Voldemort recalled how Wormtail had bravely gone against those he had once called friends and handed the Potters to the Dark Lord on a Silver Platter. No doubt the fools Wormtail had betrayed believed the Rat to be a Coward. But had not his acts proved otherwise?

To kill without remorse took far more courage than most people realised. And the Rat had proved himself to be quite adept at it.

If the Rat could be said to have a Fear, it was only of Death. And who in their right minds did not fear Death? Certainly the Dark Lord had spent his own resources on conquering Death. Wormtail could not truly be said to fear pain. For did not the Rodent offer himself willingly to the Dark Lord for punishment?

Thanks to Wormtail, Voldemort was restored, not merely to his previous form, but to a superior form - purified of the imperfections of his father’s blood. Now, the Dark Lord was who he had been truly destined to be. Wormtail would be rewarded properly with the rank befitting someone of his dedication to the Dark Lord - he would take his rightful place at Voldemort’s side, where once the Dark Lord had believed would be another.

Severus - what a disappointment he had turned out to be. The Dark Lord had hoped that Severus would take his place as his Second. But apparently he had turned away after the Potters’ murder. Now that the Dark Lord understood the true Courage of the Rat, he was more certain than ever that Severus was a Coward.

Severus, who had appeared willing to die for Voldemort; his lack of fear of Death should have been a warning sign.

Severus, who had _**begged**_ the Dark Lord to spare the very same Mudblood whom Wormtail had been so eager to destroy. 

For what? Love? Pathetic! Power was the only force worth possessing. Severus could have taken any woman for his own under the Dark Lord’s rule. No! The truth was that Severus was not afraid to die only because he was afraid of living. He was soft - afraid of pain. And above all he was afraid of doing what was necessary to take Power - he was afraid to kill. 

Voldemort knew now that it had been foolish to have ever trusted Severus, just as it had been foolish to have believed that Barty Crouch Junior was competent enough to avoid capture. It was time now for the Dark Lord to summon his minions, and to witness who was loyal and courageous enough to return to his side as Wormtail had. Those who had chosen the Dark Witch - Voldemort would deal with them soon enough.

The Dark Lord’s red eyes gleamed as he turned to face his most loyal servant outside of Azkaban.

“Wormtail,” he hissed. “It is time...”

“Yes Master!” Wormtail bowed his head and rolled up his sleeve, revealing the blistering red brand on his forearm, a skull with a serpent in its mouth. 

Voldemort pressed his long pale forefinger to the Mark and it turned black. Wormtail grit his teeth and groaned in pain, pleased that this was the worst his Master had to offer him today.

“Now we shall see Wormtail,” the Dark Lord whispered dangerously, “Who among my followers will be as brave as you? Who will return to my side as you did? You came to me Wormtail, unbidden, seeking me out when no others would. For that, you shall be rewarded beyond measure...”

**~o0o~**

“Harry! Wake up, please...” Hermione’s voice cut through the screams in his head as he came to, thrashing about on the field.

Harry groaned and sat upright, cold sweat dripping from his forehead. He flicked a beetle off his robes and rubbed at his once again burning scar as Hermione, Parvati, and Dora knelt beside him in the grass, all peering at him in concern. Parvati was trembling and tearful, having never seen Harry look so in pain; Dora and Hermione just seemed sad. Clouds tinged with pink had drawn across the purple sky and the shadows of the mountains had crept across the lawn as he’d slept, heralding the sunset. 

“Harry!” said Hermione again, breathing heavily with anxiety. “Was it...?”

“My scar...” Harry muttered, thinking better of revealing what he’d just witnessed, outside where any wandering student might overhear. “It was my scar again - maybe we should go to the hospital wing...”

But once inside the castle, Harry led Hermione, Dora, and Parvati straight to the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore’s office. When they entered, the headmaster peered over the top of his spectacles at Harry and his entourage, looking for all the world as if he’d been expecting their arrival. Harry was still more than a bit pale when he took a seat in the stuffed chintz armchair with Hermione on his lap. Dora and Parvati sat in their own cushioned armchairs nearby.

“Well Harry,” the headmaster began quietly, “May I presume that Voldemort has finally summoned his supporters?”

“Yeah...” said Harry, wincing when he nodded his still throbbing head. Hermione gave him another kiss on the cheek and the pain ebbed a bit more. “Yeah he did... and he’s furious. Almost nobody returned... He was especially cross that Professor Snape betrayed him...”

Parvati and Dora both gasped, horrified to think that Snape might have once been one of Voldemort’s supporters. Harry glanced at Hermione and swallowed, his jaw tightening. They had both suspected that Snape had once been in Voldemort’s employ since the evening that Scabbers had turned out to be Wormtail, having heard their exchanges, but this was the first real confirmation that they’d had.

Harry found it difficult to look Dumbledore in the eye, uncertain of his own feelings. The headmaster looked apologetic.

“I am sorry that you had to find out this way, Harry. It had been my hope that Severus would one day see fit to tell his own story...”

“It’s alright sir...” Harry sighed resignedly, “I know from Voldemort’s thoughts that Professor Snape never intended for my mum and dad to be killed. I know it was Wormtail - Pettigrew - who _**really**_ sold them out. I have since Third Year. That... that was one of the reasons that Wormtail is Voldemort’s favourite right now...

“Voldemort... he’s really angry at the rest - except for those still in Azkaban. The only ones who showed up were Crabbe, Goyle, MacNair, and Avery - He tortured the lot of them except for Wormtail...”


	30. The Turn of the Worm: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning for this chapter:** Trigger warning and language.
> 
> A lemony version of this chapter is available in _Moments in Love; the Steamy Version._

Despite a bit of a rough night for poor Harry, having woken to comfort him several times when the nightmares took him, Hermione was awake early the following morning. She lay facing her husband, watching his gentle features and listening to his peaceful breathing as he slept. The clock ticked on and breakfast time drew nearer. Hermione could hardly bear the thought of waking Harry and seeing his face taut with angst once more. 

A crest in the blankets caught Hermione’s attention out of the corner of her eye, and a sudden naughty idea came over her. She’d never tried it before, though Harry had pleased her more than once in such a manner. Hermione thought that it was perhaps long past time to reciprocate, and surely Harry’s morning would be off to a good start.

Hermione gulped nervously as she continued to consider her plan. Then, before she could change her mind, she burrowed under the covers head first.

**~o0o~**

Harry and Hermione were both yawning when they met Dora in the corridor on the way to breakfast. Dora was slightly puzzled, as the Potters seemed in much better spirits than she thought they might be if they’d been woken by Harry’s nightmares.

“Er... Did you two get enough sleep?” asked Dora sympathetically. 

When Hermione turned slightly pink and Harry glanced away, Dora did her best to hide a little smirk, guessing that Hermione had thought of creative ways to comfort Harry. 

At breakfast, Harry and Hermione ignored the letters which arrived by owl post. Most of the letters which had been arriving since the _Witch Weekly_ article had been rather rude and nasty. Though quite a number of young women and even a few young men had sent exceedingly friendly letters along with very racy pictures of themselves which had made the Potters both blush furiously.

Still yawning, Hermione tried coffee for the first time in her life when Harry introduced her to it. Her face crinkled in disgust, not noticing when Seamus fished some of the unopened envelopes from across the table.

“Urgh... that’s revolting Harry. How do people drink this?” she asked.

“It’s an acquired taste... usually acquired due to necessity like now, when tea just isn’t strong enough to do the job,” Harry replied with a grin. “I had to make Uncle Vernon’s coffee every morning - he usually took it black. And yeah, it’s horrible like that.”

“You need sugar and cream, Hermione.” Harry added several heaping spoonfuls of sugar and a lot of cream. Hermione took another sip

“Oh, that’s much better... Thanks Harry.”

“Yeah, with enough sugar and cream, it’s alright. It’s a bit like chocolate in that way... cocoa is horrid until you add the sugar and milk.”

Hermione looked surprised. “Really? I didn’t know. I _**love**_ chocolate. But I try not to eat too much because, you know... dentist parents!”

“You love MILK chocolate,” insisted Harry. “Have you ever tried a proper dark chocolate?”

Hermione shook her head.

“It’s very bitter without the milk...” he added.

Hermione’s ears pricked attentively; Lavender, Parvati and Neville also listened in while Harry told them about baking with cocoa and how to make it taste nice as they finished breakfast. Harry had never really talked much about cooking for the Dursleys before, and Hermione began to understand why Harry was so good at potions when people just left him alone. Ron and Seamus both looked across the table at Harry with great interest to hear him talk about making food.

“Yeah, I used to help Aunt Petunia make breakfast and dinner every day,” Harry told Ron when he asked. “I actually didn’t mind helping with that - it was better than washing Uncle Vernon’s car or washing his underwear and doing all their cleaning...”

It was pleasant being friendly with Ron again, and Care of Magical Creatures had been much better now that Draco Malfoy and Crabbe and Goyle were no longer taking it. Hagrid introduced the class to some fluffy black creatures with spade-like feet and long snouts which looked a bit like anteaters to Harry.

“Righ’ then,” said Hagrid, “These’re Nifflers - clever little creatures and jolly useful little treasure detectors they are. Yeh find ‘em down mines mostly. An’ watch out for yer valuables - they like sparkly stuff...”

Sure enough, Pansy Parkinson gave a little shriek as one leapt and tried to gnaw her bracelet off her wrist. But she calmed down when she realised that it was more cuddly than dangerous. Ron’s interest was piqued when Hagrid went on.

“Anyway, I’ve buried a load o’ Leprechaun Gold an’ there’s a prize for the one whose niffler digs up the most coins. Don’ bother keepin’ the gold though, it’ll disappear after a bit...”

Ron ended up with an enormous bar of chocolate when his Niffler dug up the most gold coins. He was a bit disappointed that it was only Leprechaun Gold, but he happily shared his chocolate with Seamus and offered some to whoever else wanted a bit. Ron seemed relieved when Hermione gratefully ate a piece of the chocolate, as if her acceptance was the seal of approval for a somewhat repaired friendship with Harry.

Harry nearly spat his piece of chocolate out laughing when he spotted Seamus gawking at one of the steamy photos that had obviously come in one of the envelopes he’d nicked at breakfast. Ron peered over Seamus’s shoulder, his eyes boggling.

“Blimey - she’s a real looker, that one is,” Ron muttered. 

“Ye got that right mate,” Seamus agreed. 

Neville glanced at the photo quickly, then turned beet red and looked away. Hermione rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smirking a bit at Ron’s gormless expression. Seamus hurriedly shoved the picture back in his robes when Hagrid wandered over. 

“What yeh got there Seamus?” asked Hagrid curiously

“Er... nuthin’...” Seamus mumbled, turning scarlet.

“It’s just a silly picture which came in the post,” said Hermione quickly to save Seamus from trouble. “At least it’s better than the horrible letters some people have been sending me and Harry since that stupid article Rita Skeeter wrote about our supposed ‘harem’ for _Witch Weekly_.”

“Aaah! Righ’...” said Hagrid sympathetically, “got some of ‘em letters meself after she wrote that one abou’ me an’ Lupin... Load a ruddy nutters. Yeh oughter just chuck the lot in the fire...”

“Well, we’re just ignoring them now,” Harry said with a grin. 

“What I can’t work out is how that disgusting woman keeps getting onto the grounds to do interviews,” Hermione fumed. “She can’t be apparating into Hogwarts, and everyone’s being checked for polyjuice potion at the moment.”

“Maybe she’s a metamorphmagus,” suggested Ron. Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise at his sensible idea. Harry turned a bit pink.

“They’re really rare though,” said Neville, “rarer than animagi.”

“Hmmm... animagus,” Hermione muttered, frowning pensively. “I wonder...”

“Well, we can think about it a bit more while we’re exercising Hermione...” Harry rubbed his forehead, looking slightly agitated. “We haven’t done any calisthenics for a couple of days, and I could use a run right now - especially as its nice outside again...”

**~o0o~**

Draco Malfoy seemed lost in his own little world, brooding as he strolled through the grounds with several of his friends. His father had seemed agitated for the last day or so, and had told him to keep a close eye on Crabbe and Goyle, and to report if they said anything odd. But his father hadn’t told him why yet, and Draco hated it when his father wouldn’t let him in on all the details of his plans straight away. The voice of one of Draco’s friends cut through his rumination.

“I overheard a Hufflepuff close to Diggory saying that Potter fought off a sea-serpent,” said Theodore Nott with a slight hint of awe in his voice. “D’you think that’s true Draco?” 

“How the hell should I know, Theo?” snapped Draco, wishing that everyone would just shut up about bloody Potter and the Triwizard Tournament. 

Even half of Slytherin seemed obsessed with Potter - especially many of the girls. Draco was beginning to wish that he and Pansy and Millicent hadn’t done that stupid interview with Rita Skeeter. 

“I just thought... Your father - being friends with the Minister...” Nott trailed off nervously, seeing the look on Draco’s face.

It had been nearly a week since the Second Task, and Draco Malfoy still couldn’t get over the fact that Potter had survived yet again. Though Draco wasn’t privy to the details, he knew that his father and the Minister had planned something a bit extra for Potter alone to ensure his demise, but somehow Potter kept getting lucky. There was no other explanation. 

Draco kicked a rock and sent it skittering as he tried to mollify himself with the knowledge that his own practice with the Unforgivables was coming along nicely. If Potter managed to make it through this tournament alive despite all, Draco would simply have to get him and the Mudblood alone somehow and settle things once and for all himself.

“Oi, Draco... over there!” hissed Nott, “Look who it is.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed when he spied Greengrass sitting alone on the steps near the boathouse, a ball of fury burning in his gut. She had made him look bad in front of Potter and that French bitch. 

It stung even more as he recalled how Daphne had turned down his generous offer to take her to the Yule Ball, saying that it would upset Pansy. But Draco was no longer so interested in Pansy, with that pug nose of hers; now that he was older, he knew he deserved a Pureblood as good-looking as himself. Draco had then tried to ask the French slag to the Ball, but she’d blown him off with a look that suggested she thought him lower than a sea-slug.

Glancing around the grounds, Draco assured himself that there were no witnesses this time - other than his henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle, and his friend Theo, who was always game for anything. People almost never came down to the boathouse during the week. It was time to teach Greengrass a lesson.

**~o0o~**

Wormtail was beside himself, giddy with glee, drunk on his newfound empowerment. For the first time in his life he felt truly respected. He could have gone anywhere after vanishing into the night when he’d escaped Snivellus’s greasy clutches, forged a new life for himself in another country if he’d wanted to.

But Wormtail was more certain than ever that his decision to seek out the Dark Lord and restore him to full strength was the best one he’d made since turning against his so-called friends and that old coot Dumbledore thirteen years ago.

The Professors at Hogwarts, especially McGonagall, had always made him feel inadequate. Just because Wormtail valued fun more than he valued homework didn’t mean that he was inept. He had always managed to pull out Acceptables and a few Exceeds Expectations at the last minute. It hadn’t been Wormtail’s fault that schoolwork was boring.

Padfoot had never really appreciated him; he was always mocking Wormtail’s hero worship of Prongs and treating him as an inferior. Wormtail had always suspected that Padfoot only tolerated him because he was James’s friend. 

And Prongs, though he had always seemed happy to have Wormtail’s admiration, Wormtail wanted more than James's appreciation. He wanted what James had.

James had always seemed to be able to afford to buy the nicest things and the best snacks from the food trolley on the Hogwarts Express. Everything Wormtail owned was rubbish and all he had were mouldy homemade sandwiches; his parents could barely afford his schoolbooks and his wand.

And James was everything that Wormtail wanted to be. James had been famous for his natural abilities as a Quidditch Player, and he’d always been top of every class without seeming to even break a sweat. And James always got the girls - except for Lily Evans who thought James was an arrogant bullying prat for hexing that greasy swotter, Snivellus Snape, the one who always had his head buried in a book about potions or dark arts. Of course Evans was never around to see what Snape and _**his**_ mates got up to. If she had only known.

Prongs and Padfoot had been notorious pranksters, beloved by all. Even the Professors had seemed to smile indulgently at those two while doling out the detentions; meanwhile shaking their heads sadly at Wormtail, as if he would amount to nothing. 

Then somehow, in sixth year, Prongs had settled down and swallowed his pride. He was “turning over a new leaf.” Those had been Potter’s own words when he had angrily dressed Sirius down for his nearly deadly “pranking” of Snivellus Snape, and Lily Evans had overheard the shouting match between James and Sirius.

Wormtail flushed jealously again as he remembered how the girl he had always daydreamed of the most while wanking had quickly fallen for James after realising that James had grown up finally, saving Lily's once best friend from certain death.

Sirius had eventually calmed down after his fight with James, agreeing that he had stepped over a line which should never have been crossed. He had apologised profusely to James, and then also apologised even more abjectly to Snivellus. Sirius too, “turned over a new leaf” that year, and he had even apologised to Wormtail.

But things had never been quite the same between any of them after that. Despite James’s claims of friendship and loyalty, Wormtail knew that James had sensed Wormtail’s desires for Lily and kept him at arm’s length after she had become his girlfriend, and later his wife. And Sirius and Remus had grown much closer to each other, though they were careful not to advertise their affections for one another and Sirius had continued to date girls on occasion.

Wormtail was the odd one out.

After Hogwarts, the Marauders had joined the battle against the Dark Lord’s reign of terror. But Wormtail had always known it was a futile endeavour. The Dark Lord was Superior in every conceivable way. Not even Dumbledore could stop him.

Nearly from the beginning, Wormtail had come to understand that he was on the wrong side. Under the Dark Lord’s rule, Wormtail would no longer have to put up with being the useless, pathetic sidekick. He could have all the gold and women he wanted - even Lily as the spoils of war if he so chose. Lily had been nothing... a Mudblood. She would beg to be one of Wormtail’s whores after James was dead, he had thought at the time; she was clearly long shot of Snivellus.

Wormtail had hoped, but he hadn’t been able to believe his luck when Padfoot had bought his offer to be Secret Keeper. Sirius had foolishly insisted to James that Peter should be the Potters’ Secret Keeper, and James had naively accepted. The Dark Lord had rewarded Wormtail handsomely for his services and made him a Death Eater when Wormtail had presented him with the Potters.

That had been Wormtail’s opportunity to finally get the Glory, Women, and Gold that he so richly deserved. And if Lily were foolish enough to stand in the Dark Lord's way, what did it matter, he had thought. There would be plenty of other mudblood slags who would beg to have Wormtail if they wanted access to wands under the Dark Lord’s Rule - and Wormtail could take any muggle girl he wanted at any time without fear of retribution from the Law. 

Then everything had gone to hell when the Potter Brat had apparently killed the Dark Lord in some sort of outburst of Accidental Magic. Terrified that he would be caught at the scene, Wormtail had fled with his Master’s wand and hidden it before framing Padfoot as the Potters' betrayer.

Wormtail had then sought out a suitable home in which he could hide undiscovered as a Rat, and had come to find much food and solace in the House of Molly, as the pet of one of her many sons, Percy Weasley. For many years Wormtail grew fat, and reveled in his access to the comforts of Hogwarts, right under the unwitting nose of the Cat Mistress of Gryffindor - Minerva McGonagall. The irony was not lost on Wormtail. Ineptitude indeed; Wormtail had shown her the true meaning of the word.

But it was only when Wormtail had returned to Hogwarts as Ronald Bilius Weasley’s pet, that Wormtail had come to learn that the Dark Lord still lived on after a fashion.

It didn’t surprise Wormtail that the Potter Brat had chosen a Brainy Mudblood as his father had. She had many of Lily’s qualities, including an innocent, natural beauty - though she looked nothing like Lily. Wormtail had felt the stirrings of jealousy once again as he watched the Potter boy’s relationship with the girl unfold. 

When the Potter scion and his own mudblood whore had helped Padfoot, Moony, and Snivellus uncover his true identity, Wormtail had decided to take it as a sign that the time was ripe to find his Master and return him to Power.

And now, it was all paying off. Wormtail grinned at himself in the mirror as he adjusted his robes. Tonight, with MacNair and Avery as his bodyguards, Wormtail would offer the Werewolf what he had wanted the last time around, a chance to be a Death Eater. And when Fenrir Greyback accepted, Wormtail, as the Dark Lord’s Second, would have a Lycan Pack at his disposal.

**~o0o~**

“Oi, Greengrass...!”

Daphne looked up, startled to see Draco Malfoy and his goon-squad approaching. She cursed inwardly and shivered, wondering why Draco and his father couldn’t let well enough alone.

“Go away Draco,” she snapped with as much courage as she could muster. “I want to be by myself.”

“What’s the matter Daphne?” sneered Malfoy as he drew uncomfortably close, “Is that any way to treat your future husband?

“Stop it! Don’t touch me or I’ll scream...”

“Now, now!” said Draco unctuously, “You wouldn’t want Theo to hex you, would you?”

Daphne shivered again and gulped, seeing that Nott already had his wand out. “You... you wouldn’t dare...” she muttered nervously, her own hand twitching towards her wand.

“Just try it,” hissed Draco, stepping even closer and grabbing her wrist, “and I’ll make sure you’ll regret it. Don’t you see how nice I’m being? I just thought we should get to know each other a bit more... _intimately_ before we get married...”

Tears rolled down Daphne’s cheeks when Draco’s other hand snaked around her waist and drew her right up against him. Crabbe and Goyle chortled as Nott leered at her.

“I... I’m n... _ **never**_ marrying you - you c...creep,” she whimpered through chattering teeth. “M...my dad said he t...turned down your father’s offer flat...”

“Don’t be like that Daphne! We could be so good together!” Draco whispered, pressing his lips against Daphne’s and slipping his hand under her skirt. “But if not, you can just have a bit of fun with the lot of us right now... and then I’ll leave you alone for good...”

Daphne sobbed and tried to pull away.

 **“GET OFF HER MALFOY!”**

Draco spun around with Daphne still tightly in his clutches, his pallid features hardening. Nott, Crabbe and Goyle whirled around to see who had caught them all out.

 _ **“Potter!”**_ spat Draco, whipping out his wand. “You and your Mudblood Bitch should keep your noses out of what doesn’t concern you.”

Hermione trembled with rage, waiting for Malfoy to make the first move, her wand aiming right between his eyes. But Harry was livid. He was done playing games with Malfoy. Without a word or a second thought, a bolt of red magic flew from Harry’s wand and struck Malfoy in the chest. 

Draco collapsed to the ground, out like a light. Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle turned around and ran for it, as fast their feet could carry them, terrified that they might be next. Daphne stood stock still, as frozen as a statue for a moment, before it sunk in what had just occurred. 

The Potters were both stunned when Daphne suddenly flung herself on Hermione, sobbing. Hermione held the weeping blonde girl, gently rubbing her back. 

“It’s alright Daphne!” she murmured, “It's alright now!”

Dora finally reached the Potters, out of breath. She had been jogging at a distance behind them, keeping an eye peeled.

“I saw everything!” she gasped. “You lot alright?”

“Yeah!” growled Harry, “But I think Malfoy will have a bit of a headache when he wakes up...”

**~o0o~**

Dumbledore had no twinkles or sparkles in his eyes; just bags under them from worry and lack of sleep. The Order meeting last night had run late, and he couldn’t have slept even if he’d tried. He looked up when Professor Snape thundered into the Headmaster’s office in a swirl of robes.

Snape stumbled and nearly fell when he slipped on the sherbert-lemons strewn all over the floor. He caught himself and noticed in surprise that the chalice which usually held them lay shattered on the rug near the Headmaster’s desk.

“My apologies Severus. Please watch your step.”

Dumbledore waved his wand. The sherbert-lemons and broken crystal vanished. He motioned to the armchair in front of his desk.

“Please, be seated Severus. Now, perhaps you can tell me what has brought you here in such a state.”

Snape’s jaw clenched, and a vein his temple throbbed.

“Headmaster, one of my students... Daphne Greengrass has requested to be... _resorted_. She no longer wishes to remain in Slytherin House. And speaking quite frankly... I cannot blame her.”

“Are you willing to grant her request Severus?”

“I am. Though I fear she will be in danger no matter which House she ends up in. I know how... _lasting_ House prejudices can be.” Snape flushed and Dumbledore peered sadly at him.

“Indeed!” the headmaster sighed. “Why don’t you tell me what brought this on!”

Professor Snape swallowed. The circumstances were well outside his zone of comfort for open discussion.

“Miss Greengrass - she was reluctant to speak of it. But from my own... _gleaning,_ I have determined that she was the victim of an assault by Draco Malfoy - an assault with... sexual overtones. He was accompanied by several other Slytherin students in his year. Nymphadora Tonks also reported the incident to me, but unfortunately she was not close enough to the scene to provide any details beyond harassment.” 

Snape raised his eyebrows as he continued. “Potter... he put an end to it, apparently with a rather strong Stunning Spell. Pomfrey told me that Draco showed up with a headache, asking for a pain potion.”

“I see!” Dumbledore’s forehead wrinkled and he sighed again, counting his fortunes; despite having eliminated another horcrux and gaining an unexpected ally within the last forty eight hours, the balance appeared to be weighing in the negative. “Am I to take it then, Severus, that Miss Greengrass’s absence from my office means that she is unwilling to press charges?”

“Yes!” The vein throbbed painfully again in Snape’s forehead. “I have reason to believe that she is too afraid to, given the current... political climate.”

The Headmaster sighed once more, his eyes catching the letter which he had received that morning on his desk. Dumbledore understood the political climate all too well, as he had just been given notice that he had been relieved of his position as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. The new Minister was fast gaining allies, and the damage done by Skeeter’s articles had finally taken its toll. Dumbledore had hoped to contain the fallout at Hogwarts. But it appeared that things were escalating rapidly.

“Very well! Without any official charges I am forced to leave things in your hands Severus. I would hope that you can see fit to dole out appropriate punishments. Sexual Assault cannot stand at Hogwarts. Detentions and loss of House Points are hardly effective measures fitting to such crimes. If it were up to me, the culprits would be expelled immediately and placed in the custody of the DMLE.”

Professor Snape nodded curtly as Dumbledore continued.

“You may inform Miss Greengrass that she has my permission to leave Slytherin. Unfortunately, once the Sorting Hat has made a decision, it cannot be undone. The magic which gives it life will not permit it. Miss Greengrass will be unaffiliated. Therefore I have no choice but to give her private lodgings next door to the Potters. Do you believe that this will be acceptable to Miss Greengrass?”

“Yes,” said Snape, nodding. “But I believe that she is too afraid to go back to Slytherin for her things. She is currently awaiting my return in my office.”

“Some house-elves will be dispatched to retrieve her belongings, and I shall send Minerva to direct Miss Greengrass to her new quarters. If you would please bear with me a moment Severus...” Dumbledore turned to Fawkes and nodded. 

The scarlet and gold phoenix appeared to understand, and vanished in a brilliant flare of light. Then the headmaster returned his attention to Snape.

“Now, regarding my earlier comments about appropriate punishment. No doubt the culprits belong in Azkaban, and I am sure that Filch would be delighted to offer you his services, but please try to remember that this is an institute of education, not a Penal Colony. Until such time as I have the authority to remove these students. You will have to find some suitable measures of discipline beyond points loss and detention.”

Snape groaned inwardly as he departed the Headmaster’s office. If it were up to him, Filch would be a Very Happy Squib right now. He met Professor McGonagall coming up the spiral staircase when he was halfway down and he paused.

“Severus?” she began questioningly.

Snape peered inscrutably at McGonagall.

“The headmaster will explain...” he said, then continued on his way

**~o0o~**

Snape stared coldly at the four students sitting in front of his desk. They had all been sitting there in silence under his stony gaze boring into their souls for half an hour. Professor Snape felt physically ill at what he saw inside them.

Finally, in an icy, even tone, Snape spoke.

“Draco, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle: your wands are hereby confiscated...”

“But _sir_...” Draco gasped in shock; it had been bad enough for his wand usage to be restricted, but this was beyond the pale. The others just looked confounded.

 **“SILENCE!”** Snape bellowed. “You will keep your mouths shut until I have finished. The headmaster has long put up with the schoolyard taunts and the occasional playground scuffle, but sexual assault is not tolerated at Hogwarts...”

 _“What?... I never...”_ Draco tried again, stunned at the unfair accusation. 

**“QUIET!”** Snape shouted again. “Don’t bother lying to me Draco. I know the truth, and I know that each and every one of you were directly involved.”

“If Daphne Greengrass had openly come forward to press charges, you would no doubt be looking at a lengthy sentence in the Junior Wing of Azkaban. Consider yourselves... fortunate. Also, you are quite lucky that the Headmaster is not given to corporal punishment, or you would find yourselves in Mr Filch’s hands. And believe me, Filch’s ideas of punishment are very... Slytherin.”

Something wasn’t adding up to Draco. If Daphne hadn’t said anything, then how could Snape have enough proof of anything to punish them - and Draco had barely even touched Greengrass. How anyone could possibly construe that as sexual assault was ridiculous. Potter! It had to be! Potter had been spreading filthy lies! Draco just knew it! 

Draco glared at Snape as the Potions Master continued his tirade.

“As I was saying before Draco so rudely interrupted, in lieu of the punishments you so richly deserve, your wands are hereby confiscated until the end of term. You will all be confined to Slytherin House for the duration of term - except for between classes - this means at mealtimes too... And when I say ‘end of term,’ I mean the end of the school-year. This also means that you are banned from all Hogsmeade visits.”

“Draco... you are permanently suspended from the Quidditch team. As long as I am Head of House, you will never again play for Slytherin. And if the rest of you have any ideas about joining the Quidditch team, you can just put aside that little fantasy. As for your brooms, they will all be confiscated until term ends as well.”

At this, Draco couldn’t help himself.

“But _**SIR,**_ that’s not fair...” he uttered in dismay before his tongue locked up and he began gurgling incomprehensibly.

“To continue.... if I hear that you are harassing any of the other girls in Slytherin House, or any other female students between classes for that matter, I will do my utmost to convince the headmaster to hand you over to Filch. **DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR!?”** Snape concluded with a roar, banging his hand loudly on his desk for emphasis.

The four Slytherins all glowered murderously at Snape, but one by one, they cast their eyes down and muttered, “Yes sir.”

**~o0o~**

She had been surprised but relieved that the headmaster had agreed so easily. She had understood why she couldn’t actually be resorted, and she was frankly glad that she wouldn’t have to endure the scorn that she would have likely received in any of the other Houses.

As Daphne began unloading her trunk into her new wardrobe and dresser in her new quarters, she hoped her sister Astoria would eventually understand why she couldn’t stay in Slytherin. But at least her sister was safe. It was clear to Daphne that despite her reticence to speak openly, that Professor Snape had more than an inkling of what had happened. He had promised Daphne that he would keep an eagle eye on Astoria. 

Tears trickled down her cheeks as she put her little photo of Astoria on the bedside table next to her alarm clock. Daphne wished again that she was strong enough to openly accuse Draco - but she was terrified of Lucius Malfoy. She had heard the rumours that he was a Death Eater, and she knew that he was close to the Minister. 

As far as Daphne knew, if she said anything, Mr Malfoy could murder her entire family and get away with it. She hadn’t even been able to bring herself to tell Astoria what Draco had threatened to do to Daphne along with his friends. Though Daphne wasn’t entirely certain why - it’s not like her sister would have gone around blabbing - the idea of talking about it just seemed too humiliating.

Daphne wished for the umpteenth time that Astoria had joined her, but her younger sister had balked at leaving her friends in Slytherin behind without a good explanation. Feeling miserable and alone, Daphne flung herself on her new bed. 

Just as the throes of misery began to set in, a knock on the heavy oak door of her chambers startled Daphne. Puzzled, she clambered off the bed and wiped her tears away on the sleeve of her robes. She slowly opened the door and gasped when she saw who was visiting.

Hermione Potter glanced at Daphne, giving her a nervous smile as Harry fidgeted beside her, also doing his best to smile warmly.

“Er... we thought you might be feeling lonely,” said Hermione. “Perhaps... erm... would you like to join us for dinner?”


	31. New Friends and Old

For a moment, Daphne Greengrass said nothing, bewilderment written in her Mediterranean blue eyes as she peered at the earnest features of Harry and Hermione Potter. The blonde ex-Slytherin was surprised at the offer of friendship to say the least, though she supposed that she really shouldn’t be. They had both gone out of their way to rescue her from Draco’s clutches after all.

Daphne blushed, recalling how she had flung herself into Hermione Potter’s arms and cried all over her. The bushy haired Gryffindor hadn’t seemed to hold it against Daphne that she was a Slytherin. And she had to admit, that Harry wasn’t at all like the self-absorbed attention seeking prat that many Slytherins made him out to be. That was twice now that Potter had stepped in to help Daphne when he didn’t have to. 

The Potters patiently waited for a response. Daphne’s blush deepened when she realised that nearly a minute had passed while she had been gaping in astonishment. She wasn’t certain, torn between wanting to be left alone to wallow in self-pity and a need for the company of someone close, like her sister; and she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that the Potters might just be trying to be polite. 

But Daphne felt that it might be rude to say no outright. Then there was the matter of which table they would be sitting at in the Great Hall. Daphne felt a knot of anxiety, suddenly realising that she had no idea where she was to sit for meals. She certainly couldn’t sit with the Slytherins anymore.

“Er... Dinner? With me?” she said shyly when she finally found her voice. “Are you sure you want to be seen with me?”

“Why not? We don’t care whether you’re a Slytherin,” said Hermione. “And we know you’re not part of Malfoy’s lot anymore...”

“...and that’s good enough for us,” Harry interjected, smiling sincerely. “Anyway, we can have dinner in our private chambers if you’d like.”

“Oh, we can do that?” asked Daphne, feeling both perplexed and relieved.

“Yeah!” Harry replied. “One of the House Elves is our friend. He brings us meals in our quarters sometimes when we just want to be by ourselves.”

Daphne smiled shyly and nodded, putting aside for the moment the odd notion of being friends with a House Elf.

“Alright then... Thank you - that sounds nice. I am hungry, but I really didn’t want to see anyone else right now.”

Daphne briefly retreated into her quarters to wash her hands. As she returned, she heard a gruff voice in the corridor.

“Ah, there you are, Potters,” growled Professor Moody. Daphne shrank back when the grizzled ex-Auror’s spinning eyeball rested on her momentarily before peering at Harry.

“I just got wind o’ what happened with the Malfoy boy,” Moody continued. “Nice work Potter. Anyway, I wanna let you know that we’ll be steppin’ up your training. After recent events, you’ll need to be prepared for anything at anytime.

“Ye never know when trouble can strike. And on top o’ that, from what little we know about the next task, we can be certain that it’s sure to make the last two look like a little girl’s tea party.” Moody’s eye glanced at Daphne again and she gulped. “Keep an eye on this one Potter - she’ll be in as much danger as you two now. In fact, bring her along tomorrow after classes. Might as well train Greengrass up a bit while we’re at it.

“Right then... That’s it for now. In meantime stay alert. _**Constant Vigilance!”**_ barked the scarred ex-Auror. Then he turned quickly and stomped away, lurching as his footfalls echoed in the stone corridor.

“He’s really scary!” said Daphne, still trembling slightly as Moody passed from view around the corner. “Wh...what was that all about?”

“Professor Moody’s been training me and Hermione to fight,” said Harry quietly. “So we can look after ourselves... and... and so I can survive the Triwizard tournament.” Harry swallowed nervously.

“Is... is it really that dangerous then?” asked Daphne, looking concerned. 

Hermione nodded. “It was discontinued in 1792 due to a rampaging Cockatrice, and all of the champions were severely injured. Participants have even been killed in these events...”

Daphne’s eyes widened with shock, and Hermione continued.

“Anyway, it seems like Professor Moody wants you to join us in training. I expect that he and Dumbledore think you ought to learn how to defend yourself properly...”

**~o0o~**

Draco stared at his mother in utter disbelief, his world collapsing around him. She couldn’t be serious.

“What do you mean, you’re cutting me off?” he moaned. “You can’t do that! Father won’t let...”

“Your father? ... Your father has indulged you for far too long Draco.” Narcissa Malfoy eyed her son coldly, steeling her resolve. “...And I... I let him. The fault is mine as well. Together, your father and I have allowed you to believe that there would never be any consequences for your behaviour.

“Be grateful Draco - grateful that Daphne has not told her father. You could be facing far worse if Warlock Greengrass were to bring charges against you... Azkaban, your wand snapped in two, the family name disgraced...”

“But I didn’t _do_ anything,” Draco whined. “It’s all rubbish. And Daphne should be mine one day anyway. Father said...”

“Enough Draco!” his mother snapped. “Severus informed us about the incident. Do you not know what Severus is? He is a Legilimens - he knows your very thoughts, your memories - he reads what is in your heart.”

Draco paled at his mother’s words. So that was how Snape had known about his threat. But still, all this fuss over a stolen kiss? Eyes narrowed in bitterness, Draco began to fume silently as his mother went on.

“Your father will support this measure to protect the name of Malfoy. But it is my hope that you will eventually see that this is about more than just a name - that you will do better for your own sake. It is not enough to be pure of blood Draco. It is your choices which define you. 

“Some of your father’s choices in the past have been questionable. We were almost ruined once by choices such as you have made - saved only by our wealth and social standing after the Dark Lord was defeated. I want more for you Draco - a life of true nobility, leading by example...”

“I’m _already_ a Noble,” snarled Draco, scowling mutinously at his mother. “And _**you’re**_ the one who’s only a Malfoy by name... I can’t believe that Father is going along with you. I’m writing to him straight away. We’ll soon see what he thinks about all this...”

Rage burned in the pit of Draco’s stomach as he watched his mother’s features. He hated the flicker of grief in her eyes; she was treacherous and weak. Father had always told him never to trust a woman, and now Draco could see why.

 _ **“Get out,”**_ he suddenly screamed. _**“I hate you!”**_

Narcissa Malfoy wavered. She considered making another appeal to her son, but the bitterness and hate in her son’s visage cut her to the bone. Narcissa stood up abruptly, and with a swirl of her cloak, she stalked out of the Slytherin common room before her tears could betray her.

Draco furiously picked up a quill and began to scrawl on his magic parchment. When he received a reply an hour later, he read his father’s words twice, feeling only slightly mollified. 

_Draco, you must have patience. For the moment, you know that my influence at Hogwarts is limited by the incompetence of the other members of the school’s board of governors. That is likely to change eventually, but not before the end of term._

_And while I understand your impatience with the Greengrass girl, you must be more careful how you comport yourself. I am doing all I can, but Warlock Greengrass appears to be driving a hard bargain. He has refused all my offers to date._

_As to your mother, your frustration with her is also quite understandable. However, for the time-being, it is necessary that your mother and I at least appear to present a united front. I have forwarded funds to your private vault at Gringotts. It should be more than enough to cover the lack of a regular allowance for the immediate future. We shall see how things stand at the end of the term._

_If all goes well with the Minister’s plans, things will look very different next year at Hogwarts, and it should no longer be necessary to placate your mother’s delicate sensibilities. In the meantime, be warned: take care in the company of Severus Snape - his loyalties are now suspect. More than that I cannot say in this letter._

Four months! Draco pushed the magic parchment aside angrily. It was nearly four months till the end of term! Not that he wasn’t grateful for the money, but did his father really expect him to sit tight - imprisoned in the Slytherin dormitory for four bloody months? There was no way Draco was going to wait that long... and one way or another, Greengrass and Potter were going to pay!

**~o0o~**

“C...can’t we just have breakfast in our quarters?” asked Daphne when she met the Potters and Dora in the corridor of the Unaffiliated the following morning.

“We could I suppose,” Hermione responded sympathetically. “But you’ll have to see everyone eventually. We might as well get this over with today...”

“You can sit with us Daphne,” said Harry. “Our friends won’t mind - I’m sure of it.”

“And anyone that doesn’t like it can bugger off!” Dora added bluntly.

Daphne looked a bit startled, but couldn’t think of a response to that. She had surprisingly enjoyed dinner with the Potters last night, and wished they could eat every meal without having to worry about seating arrangements. It was with some trepidation that Daphne followed Harry, Hermione and Dora to the Great Hall for breakfast. 

Despite his apparent assuredness, Harry felt a bit anxious himself. Gryffindors weren’t exactly known for friendly relations with Slytherins. Indeed, for that matter, none of the other Houses got on with Slytherin, as Professor McGonagall had reminded him yesterday evening when she had explained that Daphne had quit Slytherin. Harry couldn’t help pondering the fact that he and Hermione were also technically Houseless now that they were married - which McGonagall had finally made clear when she had told them about Daphne. 

Lost in thought, Harry didn’t notice that they had arrived at the Great Hall until Hermione pointed out the oddity. As the quartet entered, they were all puzzled by the empty new table parallel to the staff table at the opposite end of the hall. The words _Misceo Miscui Mixtum_ were inscribed in gold inlay on the marble surface of the table.

But Harry had little room to wonder about the strange new table. He braced himself for the disdain that he expected as he settled into his usual place at the Gryffindor table with Hermione and a blonde girl that most people knew to be a Slytherin. Sure enough, heads swiveled, and a murmur of shock and surprise rose in the hall.

The Twins, Ginny, and Neville all raised their eyebrows questioningly. Parvati and Lavender politely said “Hello,” but clearly seemed not to know what to make of their guest. Ron, Seamus, and Dean openly gaped with stunned expressions on their faces. Most of the Gryffindors looked confused. Daphne bit her lip and looked anxious. Harry knew that he needed to say something.

“Erm...” he began awkwardly. Seeing Harry struggling to find the right words, Hermione quickly jumped in to rescue him and Daphne.

“Everyone, this is Daphne Greengrass. She quit Slytherin House yesterday - moved out and everything - for personal reasons. So... erm... we invited her to join us, as she doesn’t really have anywhere else to go...”

There were gasps and looks of surprise from many of the Gryffindors at the idea of anyone ditching the House they had been sorted into. But some began scowling and muttering angrily among themselves. Harry thought he heard a hiss about leopards and spots coming from McLaggen and Towler’s direction. 

He was trying to think of a retort when the buzz of curiosity and consternation in the Great Hall began to die down. Harry looked up to see the Headmaster standing up to address the students. Dumbledore began to speak, his eyes twinkling.

“Good Morning students, guests, and esteemed colleagues. Myself and the Heads of Houses have agreed to institute a new policy encouraging the formation of greater ties of friendship between the Great Houses of Hogwarts, and our friends from the Continent. I am pleased to announce that we are introducing a new table to these hallowed Halls - the Mingling Table.

“Those who so chose, may take their meals, work on assignments, or simply... mingle with friends at the table. And it is my sincere hope that many of you will indeed choose to do so. Whosoever shall sit at the Mingling Table is demonstrating their willingness to set aside long-held prejudices, and to create bonds of fealty and friendship across all boundaries. Divisions created by House rivalries, International borders, blood, gender, breed, and class - it is my hope that these should all fall by the wayside.

“It is only through forging closer ties that we can stand against the darkness which so often threatens to engulf us all. For now, the table is large enough to accommodate those few brave enough souls whose immeasurable kindness compels them to initiate such friendships, but it is designed to magically fit as many who wish to be so joined.”

“And with that, I await your movements with great alacrity. Breakfast begins in five minutes - Pip Pip!”

A pregnant silence filled the Hall as Dumbledore concluded his speech. He caught Harry’s eye with a wink. Harry grinned, suddenly understanding who the table was for. He glanced at Hermione who had also just caught on.

“Come on then!” he said quietly as he took Hermione’s arm and stood up. “Daphne, you too...”

Daphne didn’t need to be asked twice. Dumbledore beamed as he watched Harry lead Hermione and Daphne Greengrass to the Mingling Table. Dora quickly stood up and followed the Potters and their new friend. Harry took a seat in the centre of the table, directly opposite and facing the Headmaster, Hermione at his side, Daphne and Dora beside them both.

It didn’t take more than a hurried conversation between Parvati and Lavender before they too rose from their seats at the Gryffindor table and marched over to join the Potters. By the time they reached the Mingling Table, Luna had already scurried across the Hall from the Ravenclaw table, grinning and waving at Ginny and Neville - beckoning them to join as well. 

The Mingling Table began to fill as more of Harry and Hermione’s friends arrived. Fred and George plonked themselves next to Neville. Ginny and Luna whispered and giggled as they peered across the Hall to see who else might be brave enough to leave their tables. 

The Beauxbatons all gasped, and a delighted Madame Maxime looked on proudly when Fleur Delacour stood up straight and tall and sauntered gracefully to the Mingling Table. With a crooked half-smile, Viktor Krum took his leave of the Durmstrangs and Slytherins - much to their outrage - and seated himself next to Lavender. Igor Karkaroff lifted one eyebrow, then shrugged unconcernedly.

Cho Chang gave Cedric a meaningful glance and he nodded. The pretty Ravenclaw had grown accustomed to taking her meals at a table not her own, and Cedric realised that he couldn’t be the only Champion not to make a bold statement. Together they departed the Hufflepuff table and trotted over to the Mingling Table.

Ron and Seamus remained seated, looking confounded, not sure what to do. Dean flashed Harry a tentative thumbs up from the Gryffindor table, but seemed uncertain as well.

Daphne glanced sadly at the Slytherin table where her sister squirmed indecisively. Astoria Greengrass hung her head dejectedly while her friends glared and whispered angrily at her. The rest of the Slytherins glowered malignantly at Daphne.

Despite her own anxiety, Daphne couldn’t help feeling a warm fuzzy glow inside as she looked around the Mingling Table and breakfast finally arrived on silver and golden platters. She couldn’t believe how many of the Potters’ friends had put aside their preconceptions in such an incredible display of solidarity. Not a single one seemed to mind that she had been a Slytherin.

**~o0o~**

The enormous Eagle Owl beat its wings as it flew through the dungeon corridors, keeping an eye out for a tasty rodent snack on its way to the Slytherin Common Room. Arriving at its destination, it tapped on the door three times.

“Get the post Goyle...” snapped Draco as he dipped a piece of toast into the runny yolk of his fried egg. Goyle obeyed his order and opened the door for the owl just as a Tawny Owl appeared beside it. The Owls dropped several pieces of mail before darting back into the corridor, neither of them having any expectations of receiving treats from the Slytherins. 

Nott grunted when Goyle passed him a letter from his father. Goyle set Draco’s letter and newspaper on the common room dining table, knowing better than to expect even a grunt of gratitude from him.

Draco finished his egg before opening the letter. He smugly expected it was from Mother, begging his forgiveness, but to his surprise, it was from his new German friend from Durmstrang, Gustav Gehlen. He hadn’t expected such a quick reply. Draco tore it open and read it quickly, his mouth curling up slightly at the corners for the first time in days. 

“Oi Draco, look at this...” Nott said eagerly, thrusting a parchment in front of Malfoy’s face. “My father sent it to me after hearing that I’d been confined to Slytherin.”

Draco’s eyes widened and the slight curl of his lips turned into an cruel smirk.

“Excellent, Theo! Looks like we may have a way out of the castle after all. Now all I have to do is place a couple of orders - one with this Gregorovitch fellow that Gustav told me about, and also some Italian bloke...”

**~o0o~**

Harry had never really noticed Daphne Greengrass in many of his classes before, though he reckoned that he ought to have, as Gryffindors had more than a few with the Slytherins. Her presence was much more apparent now, particularly as she had switched her seating arrangements to be near the Potters, and as far away from the Slytherins as possible. After classes had let out for the day, Ron, Seamus, and Dean waylaid Harry and Hermione when Daphne retired to her quarters.

“So, what’s up with Greengrass, Harry?” asked Ron. “Does it have anything t’do with Malfoy? I saw him giving her dirty looks in Potions.”

“And we noticed that Malfoy wasn’t at breakfast or lunch today,” said Seamus.

“Erm... I really can’t say exactly,” said Harry apologetically.

“It’s not really up to us, if Daphne doesn’t want to talk about it,” Hermione tried to explain. “We can’t give you any details Ron...”

“...but yeah, Malfoy’s involved,” continued Harry. “He and his mates were being really foul to Daphne. That’s why she quit Slytherin...”

“...And I expect that Malfoy and his gang have been confined to Slytherin when they’re not in classes,” Hermione concluded.

Dean whistled. “Wow! They must’ve done something awful to get that sort of punishment.”

“It was bad enough, anyway,” Harry growled.

“I... I think I understand that then,” said Ron, still looking puzzled. “But what about you and Hermione, Harry?” Why’d you leave Gryffindor table?”

Harry swallowed nervously. He’d been dreading the inevitable question.

“Well...” he began with a sigh, “since Hermione and I aren’t living in Gryffindor tower - because we’re married - technically we’re not Gryffindors anymore. We’re Unaffiliated according to McGonagall. She told us last night...”

Ron, Seamus, and Dean all gasped in shock at the news.

“We would’ve stayed at the Gryffindor table,” said Hermione anxiously, “but we didn’t want Daphne to feel like the odd one out... and... and the Mingling Table seemed like the perfect answer - like it was made for us - the Unaffiliated...”

“...and our friends. You’re welcome to join us too,” Harry offered. But that didn’t seem to be what was bothering the three fourth year Gryffindor boys the most.

“But the team! ...” moaned Ron. “What about the Quidditch team? You’re the best Seeker they’ve ever had, Harry!”

“Dunno...” Harry sighed again. “McGonagall’s looking into it - seeing if there’s a way around the rules. Though, to be honest, given things with Vol... er... You-Know-Who, I’m not so sure about letting myself be distracted by Quidditch anymore. It seems like every year, he’s got some scheme going to come after me - and he’s an evil genius. 

“And if not him, there’s always someone else like the Malfoys around, or something going on that could do me in... I really just need to focus on learning as much magic as I can Ron.”

Hermione looked at Harry sadly, seeming almost as glum as Ron. She rather thought Quidditch was a very dangerous sport, but she knew how much it meant to Harry. It broke her heart to think of Harry missing something that he loved so much. Harry caught the look in Hermione’s glistening eyes, and the forlorn expressions of Ron, Seamus, and Dean.

“Look, it’s alright... I don’t mind. Really!” he said. “I’ve helped the Gryffindor team get the trophy two years in a row. Someone else can have a turn now,” Harry added with a meaningful look at Ron. “Anyway, I can always play a bit of casual quidditch just for fun. Why don’t you lot hang out with me and Viktor the next time we’re flying and chasing a Snitch...?”

**~o0o~**

“Urgh!” groaned Daphne as Dora helped her stagger to her feet at the conclusion of her first training session with the Potters. “I hurt all over... Is Professor Moody always like that?”

“Yes!” exclaimed Harry and Hermione in unison, both still slumped on the mat.

Dora chortled. “Here Daphne... ‘ave a pain potion. Harry and Hermione are used to the Mad Eye Workout by now, but it’ll take you a bit to toughen up - shouldn’t seem so rough after a few weeks...”

“A few _weeks?”_ Daphne squealed, quickly downing the vial of potion, “I’ll never survive that long.”

“You’ll be alright,” said Dora with another laugh. “Come on then, lemme walk you back to your chambers. You two coming?” She looked pointedly at the Potters.

Harry shook his head. 

“Not just yet. I... er... I wanted to show Hermione something...” Inexplicably, Harry reddened.

Dora smirked. “Alright then. We’ll leave you both to it.”

Hermione waited for Daphne and Dora to leave before questioning Harry with raised eyebrows.

“Okay Harry, what’s going on?” she grumbled. “I’m really sore - Professor Moody was right when he said he would be ‘stepping up our training.’ I could use a nice hot bath.”

“Erm...” said Harry with a nervous grin, “About that, I had a thought about how we might put the Room of Requirement to good use. I think - I hope - you’ll like it...”

Patiently, Hermione waited in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy while Harry paced back and forth several times in the corridor.

“That should do it,” he muttered. 

When Harry reopened the door to the Room of Requirement, Hermione gasped, an expression of awe etched into her features. She gazed in amazement at the glittering crystalline stalactites and stalagmites which surrounded the steaming, bubbling pool of water. The grotto appeared to be lit by a thousand glowing fairies, flitting to and fro. 

“Harry... that’s _**gorgeous!**_ Perfect! A jacuzzi - just what I needed!”

“There’s only one problem...” said Harry.

“What’s that?”

“I forgot that we didn’t bring our swim gear.”

“Oh! I don’t think we’ll be needing that,” Hermione responded, a golden gleam in her eyes as she grabbed Harry’s hand and shut the door behind them. 

Moments later, clothes shed, Hermione settled into the churning, frothing hot water next to Harry. The knots in her muscles began to melt away. Sighing in contentment, Hermione leaned into Harry’s arms for a steamy kiss, listening to the tinkling music of the fairies...


	32. Love and Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more explicit version of this chapter is now available in _Moments in Love: The Steamy Version._

The kiss deepened, fingers tangled in Hermione’s sodden golden ringlets, Harry’s anxiety began to dissipate. What did it matter if they were both unclothed in the Room of Requirement? The only way that anyone could enter and discover them would be to ask specifically for a jaccuzi which looked like an Enchanted Fairy Grotto. The chances of such an occurrence were vanishingly small.

Harry let himself go, his passion rising, lips tracing a path to Hermione’s neck, fingers disentangling and roaming southward. Eddies and currents swirled in the bubbling cauldron and sparks of magic began to fly as the fervor grew, and the pair started to lose themselves in one another. Harry’s last coherent thought before he was swept away completely by the tide of bliss was of how much he loved Hermione. Magic arced like bolts of lightning, and the chamber trembled and rocked as they peaked.

**~o0o~**

Minerva McGonagall frowned, passing the letter from the Triwizard Commission back to the headmaster. Professor Dumbledore put the letter down and reached into his desk.

“I think we’ll be needing this,” he said, pulling out a bottle of Dragon Barrel brandy. 

He then poured a snifter each for his deputy headmistress and the Potions master as well as himself. Neither of the professors accompanying the headmaster raised any objections. The angry deputy headmistress took a big gulp from her snifter before speaking.

“So,” fumed McGonagall. “There is no way that we can prevent the Third Task? ...nor at least have some say as to what sorts of creatures and magical obstacles are to be employed?”

“I do not believe so,” Dumbledore sighed. “It seems quite clear that we have been forestalled from having any input ourselves. We can only be thankful that the Skrewts bred for the task at the insistence of the Triwizard Commission have been killing each other off. Hopefully, there will be few left by the time June arrives.”

Snape and McGonagall both snorted at the notion that Hagrid needed encouragement from an outside agency to breed dangerous creatures. But indeed, at the beginning of the year the Commission had given Hagrid the eggs produced by breeding a Manticore with a Fire-Crab, knowing that Hagrid would be all too eager to comply, despite Dumbledore’s own reticence.

“And what of the Acromantulas?” McGonagall wondered aloud. “Perhaps Hagrid’s friend Aragog will have some sway?”

Snape rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t be so naive Minerva,” the Potions master sneered. “Even if Aragog so commanded, without his presence to stay them, the Acromantulas chosen by the Ministry for the Third Task will not obey his command when the blood of wizards calls to them. We must face facts - there is little we can do unless the Champions signal for help. 

“The Warding Charms placed around the Maze by the Commission will prevent any teacher or headmaster from entering the Maze unless we are directly called upon to provide aid.”

“But we know less than half of what the Champions will be facing in the Maze,” snapped McGonagall. “Albus, surely the Commission can give us at least an inkling of what else they have in store for the Champions.”

The headmaster sighed again. “Alas, Minerva, our hands are tied. You know as well as I do that the Ministry is in unscrupulous hands. The best I can do is to ensure that all of the Champions and their mentors are as informed as ourselves. I shall confer with Olympe and Igor on the morrow...”

At that moment, one of Dumbledore’s delicate instruments began to whir and oscillate wildly, emitting sparks and a puff of smoke. The lanterns flickered and a slight tremor shook the office. Fawkes ruffled his feathers and uttered a little squawk. Snape’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Good Heavens!” exclaimed McGonagall. “What on earth was that?”

“I do not know,” answered the headmaster, looking as perplexed as his staff-members. He clambered out of his seat quickly and examined several of his contraptions, including the one which had sparked.

“There appears to have been some sort of magical power surge in the castle,” said Dumbledore after a moment, “However, there is no sign of castle breach, nor of Dark magical attack. Is anyone running an experiment at the moment? Flitwick perhaps?”

“Not to my knowledge,” replied McGonagall.

“If I may, Headmaster, perhaps we just experienced the effects of an outburst of accidental magic somewhere in the castle,” suggested Snape. “As unusual as it may be, on occasion, teenagers can still be given to such events.”

“Hmm...” Dumbledore stroked his long silvery beard pensively. “You may be onto something Severus. Such has indeed occurred in the past; however, this particular outburst must have been remarkably powerful to have shaken the entire castle...”

**~o0o~**

“Bloody Hell Hermione! What was that? What happened?” Still dazed and feeling quite giddy from their playful watery escapade, Harry peered at his wife expectantly. Hermione giggled nervously as the euphoria of passion began to ebb.

“I... I’m not sure Harry, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was an accidental release of magic... I suppose it’s something that must happen to wizards occasionally when they have intercourse - especially if it’s really good and they’re really, really in love...”

Harry looked perplexed. “But everything shook Hermione - the castle shook, like an earthquake - and there was a flash - like lightning. Even when I was angry and blew up Aunt Marge like a balloon, I’ve never had such a strong burst of accidental magic.”

Hermione peered at the churning water and the crystalline stalactites of the Room of Requirement’s Fairy Grotto, an idea forming in her whirring brain.

“Hmm... well there were two of us for one thing, amplifying the magic exponentially,” she began, turning slightly pink. “We both... erm... peaked at the same time. Also, perhaps, in the water - maybe it’s like when an electrical charge is introduced to saltwater. It’s possible that it may have conducted the magic - further amplified it - and released it into the castle walls.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know Harry. I’m just speculating - I can’t be certain.”

“Right!” Harry nodded, gulping anxiously. “Well, that makes as much sense as anything I suppose - let’s get out of here...”

Harry fervently hoped that there had been no damage, and that they could avoid getting into trouble. Hurriedly, the Potters dressed and fled the Room of Requirement. Harry’s wildly thumping heart began to slow when it seemed that there were no panicking hordes in the hallways of Hogwarts, and everything seemed intact.

But all hopes of forgetting about the incident completely were dashed when they found themselves in the Great Hall at dinner. They arrived late. Seated at the Mingling Table already were some of their friends. Under normal circumstances, Harry would have been happy to see Ron, Seamus, and Dean among them. But they appeared to be deep in discussion regarding an unusual occurrence. 

“...and me and Seamus were playing wizard chess by the window...” Ron was telling Dora and Daphne.

“And I was losing as usual,” Seamus interjected.

“...and it rattled so hard I was sure it was going to break,” Ron continued.

Dean rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t that hard...”

“I didn’t notice it at all,” Neville chimed in.

“Nor I,” said Daphne. “I was in my room and I didn’t feel a thing. But I did see the lights flickering.”

At that moment, Ron noticed Harry and Hermione taking their seats.

“Oh, hi Harry, Hermione,” said Ron excitedly, “Did you feel that castle-quake?”

“Er...” said Harry as he flushed. 

He glanced at Hermione, whose cheeks had also taken on a rosy tinge. Fortunately, Harry was saved from answering by the arrival of the Feast. He breathed a deep sigh of relief and began to tuck in. Hermione was equally glad of the distraction that the food provided. Dora eyed the Potters with amusement, supposing that they had been too occupied to notice the quake.

**~o0o~**

The evening was cold and dry. A peacock strutted in the moonlit gardens of an opulent Wiltshire estate, its cry piercing the night. Inside the manor, a bitter Warlock brooded. Lucius Malfoy scowled as he sipped his brandy, wondering where he had gone wrong. His narrowed eyes lit upon the empty armchair near the fire where his wife should be seated.

Lucius was still puzzled as to how Narcissa had discovered that he had transferred funds into their son’s private vault at Gringotts. It was unlike her to check on the finances - a fact that he had been counting on. In any case, that had only been the beginning of the row. One thing had led to another, and somehow the argument had turned from their son to what Narcissa had termed as Lucius’s own “questionable choices” in the past - a clear dig at his days as a Death Eater.

“...and where are you now while our son follows in your footsteps?” Narcissa had shouted, “Spending your days at the Ministry hatching _**new**_ plots and schemes to undermine Dumbledore.”

“And why not?” Lucius had angrily retorted. “Finally, we have a competent Minister of our persuasion, dedicated to doing whatever is necessary to put an end to the dilution of our bloodlines. Why shouldn’t I be doing all I can to help find a solution to the Mudblood problem once and for all?”

His next words had just slipped out, unintended, in the heat of anger. He had wished he could take them back the moment he’d said them. 

“...Carrying on like this, anyone might think you a Blood Traitor!” Lucius had snapped at his wife.

That had silenced Narcissa; but at what cost? She had stared at him coldly for a moment before turning on her high heels and storming from the parlour. Several minutes later, Lucius had heard her furious footsteps echoing through the manor, and then the front door slamming shut.

And now he sat alone, nursing a brandy snifter which needed refilling. Lucius supposed he should have seen this coming. Narcissa had been slipping away - growing more and more distant since the Quidditch World Cup. And if he were being honest with himself, the warning signs that they were drifting apart had been apparent since the Chamber of Secrets business.

Pouring himself another brandy, Lucius Malfoy’s scowl grew deeper when he recalled the argument which had stemmed from the loss of the House Elf. He had been forced to reveal his own hand in the opening of the Chamber to his wife. And his promise that Draco - as a Pureblood - had never been in any danger had fallen on deaf ears.

“...and what of the other students at Hogwarts,” Narcissa had shouted then. “They are just children...”

“Just children,” his wife had called them. Just children? Had Narcissa forgotten that Mudblood children eventually grew up to breed even more filth? Perhaps it was for the best that Narcissa had fled to her ancestral home, empty though it was. And perhaps his harsh words - Blood Traitor - had not been so far off the mark.

**~o0o~**

Harry’s dreams that night were fitful. Feeling her husband restless beside her, Hermione woke several times. After the third time she gave Harry a little shake.

“Harry, are you alright?” she asked. Harry woke with a start.

“Th...thanks for waking me Hermione...” Harry rubbed at his burning scar, his face clammy and pale. “Yeah... yeah, I’m alright. It’s not too bad...”

“It’s Voldemort again, isn’t it?” Lines of worry creased Hermione’s brow. “Is he doing something horrible?”

“No - it would be worse if he was,” Harry replied. “I’m just getting flashes - glimpses of him and Wormtail and the others. They’re making plans.”

“To come after you again?” asked Hermione. 

Harry shook his head. “Not yet. Voldemort wants to build up his forces and... and revenge himself against some of the Death Eaters who didn’t rejoin him. I don’t quite remember all the details, but I know that he’s sending Crabbe and Goyle - their fathers I mean - to recruit Giants.”

“Should we wake Dumbledore and tell him? Or can it wait till morning?”

“Anytime tomorrow should be okay,” said Harry. “It’s nothing urgent really.”

“Alright then,” said Hermione, giving him a little kiss. She put her arm around him and snuggled closer, laying her bushy head on his shoulder. “Would you like some hot cocoa - to help you go back to sleep?”

Harry grinned as the soreness in his scar began to ebb, catching a whiff of her minty fragrance. He gave Hermione a kiss on her forehead.

“No thanks, I’m feeling loads better already.”

Harry felt even better the following morning, having fallen back to sleep in his wife’s arms. He awoke to see the golden highlights of her hair gleaming in the sun pouring through the window. Feeling refreshed and lighter, Harry remembered more of what he had seen in his dreams. The knowledge kept him slightly distracted throughout the day while he attended classes. When lessons were over, Harry eagerly made his way to Dumbledore’s office with Hermione.

When the Potters entered, they caught Dumbledore peering wistfully at a little ancient sepia photograph of a young girl with fair hair. In his hand, the headmaster clutched a ring with a cracked gemstone - the horcrux which they had discovered and killed several days ago. Harry and Hermione both felt a bit awkward, as if they had interrupted Dumbledore in a contemplative moment of great personal importance. 

But if Dumbledore felt put out, he did a good job of hiding it. The look of melancholy in his eye was quickly replaced with his usual twinkles.

“Ah, Harry, Mrs Potter - please be seated,” said Dumbledore warmly as he returned the ring to a drawer in his desk. “I had been meaning to speak with you in any case Harry. But first you may tell me what is on your mind.”

“Thank you sir,” Harry responded politely, doing his best to restrain his curiosity about the picture on Dumbledore’s desk. “I had another dream... er... vision I mean - last night.”

“I take it the matter is of no great urgency then,” the headmaster keenly observed.

“Yeah... I mean no... er, well, I suppose you can judge for yourself, but at least it wasn’t anything dreadful anyway. It’s just that Voldemort was making plans and I thought you should know what he’s up to.”

“Indeed Harry - please continue.”

“Yes sir. Anyway, apparently Voldemort means to build up his forces before doing much else - he’s sending Crabbe and Goyle somewhere to look for Giants for one thing. And MacNair is supposed to be capturing Mountain Trolls - like the one which almost got Hermione first year. And he’s sending Avery out to recruit criminal types - hooligans and such, I think. 

“Wormtail’s already got some Werewolves on their side. Who he _really_ wants though, is the Lestranges and some others - but they’re in...”

“Azkaban,” said Dumbledore quietly. “That means that eventually Voldemort will seek to take Azkaban by force to free his most loyal former supporters.”

“Er... right!” Harry agreed. “But he’s got to wait a bit until he’s got a big enough army to do it. And in the meantime, Voldemort’s planning to go after some of the Death Eaters on the outside who didn’t return to him.”

“Yes, I expected as much...” Dumbledore nodded. “Those who defy Voldemort do so at their own peril. There are ways for the cautious to protect themselves of course, though some may be feeling overconfident, lulled into a false sense of security by Voldemort’s defeat and long absence. Those shall no doubt find themselves caught off-guard, much to their dismay.

“Well Harry,” he continued, “I must thank you for the update. There is little I can do to prevent an attack on Azkaban given our current situation with the Ministry, other than to warn Madam Bones that such may occur. We shall have to leave that in her capable hands, though I fear that it will not stop an eventual prison-break. Dementors have an affinity for Dark wizards, and may be swayed to join Voldemort’s cause.

“Now, to that which I had intended to bring to your attention. I had been planning on having Professor Moody reveal the latest information regarding the Third Task, but as you are here in my office, I may as well tell you myself...

Dumbledore told Harry and Hermione what was known, which was less than what he would have liked. And by the time the meeting with the headmaster adjourned, Hermione was infuriated by the sparsity of the information. Harry thought that if she were any angrier, flames might shoot from her eyes.

“Giant venomous spiders,” Hermione huffed under her breath as they made their way to the Room of Requirement for practice, “I can’t believe it Harry...”

“And Blast-Ended Skrewts,” said Harry helpfully. “Don’t forget those.”

“But that’s not even the half of it,” Hermione said crossly. “This is no joke Harry. You have to be prepared for anything. We have no idea what else you’ll be facing. For all we know, they could set loose a horde of Inferi in the Maze.”

Harry sighed, seeing how worked up Hermione had become at the idea of him facing swarms of deadly unknown creatures and obstacles. He began to feel bad when he realised that Hermione was taking it so hard that she was on the verge of hyperventilation. They had been planning on practicing with their patronuses before meeting up with Daphne for their workout, but that was starting to look like a dim prospect.

Then it hit Harry - Cheering Charms - that ought to get them both in a good mood again. At least good enough to try experimenting with their patronuses.

“Hermione please,” Harry implored. “Everything will work out - we’ve got months to train. If you’d like, I can do a Cheering Charm on you.”

“I’m sorry Harry,” said Hermione apologetically when it struck her that Harry was doing his best to take things in stride. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just hate this stupid tournament - I can’t bear the thought of losing you. Yes, a Cheering Charm sounds nice.”

Harry performed the charm, and Hermione began to feel much better. Hermione returned the favour, and soon they were both feeling a bit giggly by the time they reached the Room of Requirement. Happiest memories at the forefront of their minds - and they had many to choose from - both Potters conjured their patronuses.

A sublime joy swept through Harry and Hermione when the etheric stag and doe burst from their wands for the first time since they had chased away the Dementors in third year. Harry was absolutely stunned at the intensity of their radiant luminosity; they were much brighter than he recalled, nearly blindingly so. The Room of Requirement was flooded with the pulsing light, and their bodies tingled with seraphic ecstasy as the magic swirled around them.

**~o0o~**

The headmaster looked up from his desk when he heard it - the whirring of one of his delicate silver and gold instruments. Fawkes uttered a questioning trill as he eyed the equipment warily. Dumbledore half expected sparks and a puff of smoke again. But something was different this time; there was no quake and the lights were stable.

Regardless, according to the instrument readings, it was clear that another powerful outpouring of magic of extremely high frequencies was occurring somewhere in the castle once again. But this time the magic was under control - directed in some sort of application that seemed vaguely familiar. The most curious thing was that as before, the location of the surge could not be pinpointed.

Dumbledore was quite keen on solving this mystery, but he had to consider his priorities. The school certainly was in no danger from the mysterious magical outburst - on the contrary, the surges seemed to have only strengthened the school’s defences. For the timebeing, the headmaster had more pressing concerns that did indeed present a danger to not only the school, but the entirety of Magical Britain.

For one thing, his most immediate and important decision was whether or not to send Hagrid on a dangerous, quite likely fruitless mission with minuscule chance of success. Dumbledore had to weigh his options carefully. Quite simply, beyond the fact of friendship, he couldn’t afford to lose his Care of Magical Creatures professor at this critical phase of the Triwizard tournament.

**~o0o~**

The weeks leading up to Easter passed more quickly than Harry and Hermione thought possible. Schoolwork and training kept them both too busy to worry about things. There had been no sign that Voldemort had made anymore significant moves, and Harry was pleased that he hadn’t had to endure the stress that came whenever Voldemort was personally involved in a kill.

Daphne seemed to be getting on reasonably well, having been adopted as a friend by Parvati and Lavender. Fleur seemed to find Daphne’s presence pleasing as well. Hermione was thrilled to find herself regularly in three-way dinner conversations in French, as Daphne had spent some summers at the French Riviera also. And gradually - with Dora’s help - Daphne was building up her strength and enduring Professor Moody’s workouts and training sessions.

Much to Ron’s delight, Harry managed to find some time to hang out, play a few games of chess, and do a little flying together with a few other friends as well. Ron couldn’t believe his luck to finally meet Viktor Krum properly.

All in all, with Hermione at his side, Harry was feeling happy - happy enough to almost forget that a dangerous Dark wizard and the Minister were both plotting against him. Only one thing in that time served as a reminder of the circumstances which loomed over Harry’s life.

One day, nearly two weeks after that fateful day upon which Voldemort had restored himself, Snape approached Harry at the end of Potions. Harry wondered if he’d done something wrong, because Snape looked almost as sour as he had through much of Harry’s first year at Hogwarts. In fact, the Potters had both noticed Snape’s increased moodiness the past two weeks and chalked it up to his being disturbed by Voldemort’s renewal.

After everyone else had left the dungeon, Harry and Hermione sat there before Snape’s desk, anxiously awaiting some sort of reprimand - for what, they did not know. The tension grew in the silence; finally, as if it hurt, Snape spoke.

“Potter,” he began sharply before catching himself and moderating his tone, “...Harry - what I am about to tell you is for your ears only. I have allowed Mrs Potter to stay because she is your... spouse.

“Let me begin by saying that I am unaccustomed to discussing matters of personal interest... with anyone. However, there are certain facts which concern us both - facts which you deserve to know. Our fates are entwined more than you can possibly imagine...”

Harry felt a strong urge to point out that he had an inkling that Snape had known his mother, having gleaned at least that much from Voldemort’s mind the afternoon that Voldemort had sent out the signal to his Death Eaters. But Hermione must have sensed Harry’s urge, because she gave him a gentle nudge. Harry decided that perhaps it was better to simply let Snape speak uninterrupted.

“At one time,” Snape continued, “when I was a student at Hogwarts, I knew your parents. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew were also known to me. We had a sordid history which I have no desire to relive in detail. Suffice it to say that your father and his friends - I loathed them, and they loathed me.

“Your mother however, was a different matter altogether. For many years, we had been... friends. I regret to say that I took that friendship for granted... and lost it. Indeed, I have many regrets - not the least of which is that eventually your parents married...” Snape couldn’t help himself, saying that last part with a sneer. He halted a moment to recover himself, then began again.

“Now, I should say that what happened next, were the further indiscretions of a young and foolish man. During my youth at Hogwarts, my friends were nearly all followers of the Dark Lord, and I - like them - joined him upon my graduation... another act I regret to this day.

“You are aware - I believe - of the Prophecy and that the Dark Lord came to learn of it. What you may not know, is how that came to be... My greatest regret of all...”

“Harry...” Snape paused again, a flicker of pain and sorrow in his eyes.

“It was me,” he continued, so softly that it was almost a whisper. “I overheard part of the Prophecy, and relayed it to the Dark Lord. It was only... only when I learned that your mother - that Lily... that she would be targeted by the Dark Lord that I switched sides. I begged Dumbledore to save her... but it was too late... the deed was done...” Snape trailed off, a muscle twitching in his jaw, his dark eyes glistening.

Harry was flabbergasted. The rest of the story he knew of course; Wormtail had betrayed his parents, deliberately selling them out to Voldemort. But he couldn’t believe that Snape himself had been the one to tell Voldemort about the prophecy. If he hadn’t, Harry’s parents might be alive today. Harry didn’t know what to feel - nor what to say. Hermione took his hand, biting her lip, struggling to contain her tears.

Snape managed to speak one last time.

“You had to know!” he croaked. Then Snape stood up abruptly and strode out of the classroom in a swirl of robes.

Harry still couldn’t believe it. It took him several days to recover from Snape’s stunning revelation. But recover he did. One thing Harry was sure of, was that Snape had been very brave to reveal his part in things. Snape could have gone to his grave in silence and Harry would have been none the wiser. Another thing that Harry was sure of, Snape had loved Harry’s mother very much.


	33. I'll Be Home for Easter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more explicit version of this chapter is now available in Moments in Love: the Steamy Version

Narcissa paced back and forth in one of the parlours of Black Manor - her empty ancestral home - pondering her predicament. It was clear that her husband and her son had both forsaken her. She had hoped that her relationships could be salvaged, but her husband’s words, “Blood Traitor,” echoed in her mind.

Harsh though they were, Narcissa had to concede that those words contained a modicum of truth. And the venomous hate that she had seen in her son’s eye when he had reminded her that she was a Malfoy by name only, reinforced the fact that it was she who had changed.

At one time Narcissa had shared the views of her husband, as had many back in those days before the end of the war. She had grown up believing what her parents had taught her. But when her son had been born, Narcissa began to doubt. And when the Dark Lord had been defeated, she had hoped to put the past behind her.

The memory that she had once supported many of the “questionable choices” her husband had made in the service of the Dark Lord now brought Narcissa nothing but shame. The path that now lay before her was uncertain, the choice she faced would define her very existence.

Narcissa considered seeking the counsel of her sister Andromeda, who had long ago cast aside the traditions of Blood Purity to marry a muggleborn. But there was little love lost between Narcissa and her sister, and she doubted that she would be welcomed. There was another that Narcissa had trusted, but she was uncertain as to where his loyalties truly lay.

**~o0o~**

Severus Snape regarded the fireplace in his office with some apprehension. He had been surprised when an owl had delivered an unmarked envelope at breakfast; he couldn’t recall the last time that he had received a piece of mail. The contents of the envelope had been equally perplexing; the floo address it contained was one he hadn’t seen before and he pondered its significance. He wasn’t sure if he should take the risk that it possibly presented.

Having made a decision, Snape finally flung the powder into the hearth and stepped into the green flames. Emerging from the fireplace at the other end of the floo connection, he lifted an eyebrow as he peered at his surroundings, which appeared to be the parlour of an uninhabited manor. 

Many of the pieces of furniture were covered with white sheets. And only the few exposed furnishings and the woman present were any indication that the manor was not quite as uninhabited as it appeared to be. 

“Thank you for coming Severus,” greeted Narcissa. 

Severus swallowed with trepidation when he noted the tears glistening in Narcissa's long dark eyelashes. Dealing with tearful witches was something he had little experience with, and it unnerved him. His heart pounded and there was a slight ringing in his ears when Narcissa took his arm in hers and led him to the long plush deep-red sofa near the hearth.

Orange flames flared where there had previously been green ones, and bathed the room in a warm flickering glow. Severus sat stiffly where Narcissa bade him. Narcissa unstoppered the 175 year old bottle of Dragon Barrel Brandy and poured some into two crystal snifters sitting on the mahogany coffee table before seating herself closely beside him.

They both sat in silence.

Snape swirled his goblet and inhaled the bouquet before taking a sip. The smooth rich liqueur washed over his tongue and steadied his nerves. Narcissa sipped from her glass and placed it back on the coffee table, heaving a deep breath. She took Severus’s unoccupied hand in her own two soft hands.

Severus’s features were inscrutable, but he was certain that she could feel his pulse racing. Anxiously, he drained his own goblet before setting it down. Narcissa nervously cleared her throat before speaking.

“Severus... I must know. How close are you to my husband?”

Snape stiffened, nostrils flaring, uncertain where this was leading. Could this be some sort of test of his loyalties - a trap? Quickly, he considered the ramifications of telling the truth. It was possible that Lucius had set this up, believing that Severus had betrayed him by calling his son to account for what he had done to the Greengrass girl, but Narcissa’s eyes said otherwise. 

And even if it were a test, would there be much point to denying the truth at this stage, given the recent turn of events? It was clear that Snape couldn’t maintain his cover with the Malfoys for much longer anyway. The only thing unclear, was how far Lucius was willing to go. Severus’s death at Lucius’s hands was a distinct possibility.

But as Severus continued to gaze into Narcissa’s eyes, her soul lay bare for him to see. She knew what he was - a Legilimens - yet she was allowing him complete access to her mind. It was readily apparent that Lucius was unaware of his wife’s meeting with Severus.

Nevertheless, Severus was reticent to respond, the conversation possibly leading in an uncomfortably personal direction. But Narcissa was not to be put off by his silence.

“You have always been so kind to my family Severus. You have looked after my son at Hogwarts and treated him with respect... and I thank you for that. You provided my husband with friendship and companionship...” 

A flame sparked in Narcissa’s pleading tearful eyes. “Please, I must know.”

Severus swallowed, and pain tautened his features as he made his decision.

“Narcissa, I...” Severus finally began, eyebrows raised, his voice lurching, “what I am about to tell you... I hope you can forgive me... The day Lucius and MacNair kept watch as the Dark Lord ended the life of Lily Potter, is the day our friendship truly died. I have - since the day that I learned Lily was a target - been Dumbledore’s Spy. And Lucius... my enemy.”

Bewilderment flooded Severus when Narcissa heaved a sigh of relief, her features brightening, and he felt a warmth creep up his arm from the hand she had clasped between her own.

“Thank you Severus,” Narcissa gasped as her breath quickened. “I needed to hear that...” 

As the tears ran down her cheeks, she drew closer to Severus. “I... I fear that I am lost to my husband - I no longer believe as he believes... I can no longer pretend that I share his convictions. I had hoped that one day he would give up his obsession with Blood Purity, but he is more determined than ever... 

“And... and I fear that I have also lost my only son to the same obsession... Please, Severus, you have seen into Draco’s heart and soul - is there even a small chance that he can learn a new way of thinking... learn to see that Blood Purity is a dead end? Or is he lost to me forever?”

Severus let out a sigh, knowing now that Narcissa would not like the answer.

“Perhaps one day...” he began haltingly, “...perhaps in the far flung future, it may be possible that Draco will come to see things as you see them - but not today. 

“Not as long as Draco continues to believe that his actions have no consequence to himself... Not as long as he continues to believe that he is the centre of the universe - that other people’s lives are insignificant compared to his own... Nor as long as he continues to worship the ground his father walks upon, and continues to have his every whim indulged by Lucius. 

“Draco is his father’s son; he wants nothing more than to make his father proud - to become a Death Eater - and I do not see Draco’s desire to live up to his father’s expectations wavering in the slightest. And I believe that Draco’s heart is only further hardening as the consequences of his actions begin to catch up to him... He is heading further down a path of Darkness.

“Narcissa... It pains me to say this, but it may be that only Azkaban can save Draco from himself now...”

**~o0o~**

Harry and Dora both eyed the fireplace in Dumbledore’s office with some distaste, and Hermione didn’t look much happier. Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he beckoned the three reticent youngsters towards the green flames.

“You sure about this?” Dora grumbled. “There’s still time to catch the Hogwarts Express, you know.”

“Indeed,” said Dumbledore. “However, this is the safest means of travel for Harry now that Voldemort is reconstituted. There is no question that Voldemort will continue to take any opportunity to seek Harry out.”

“He’s right Harry,” said Hermione, peering at Harry with concern.

“Yeah, I know,” sighed Harry resignedly, nodding. “Guess this is it then - see you on the other side.”

And with that, Harry stepped into the green flames, emerging dizzily into Number Twelve’s parlour coughing and wheezing as ashes swirled around him. Hermione was in no better state when she arrived moments later, hacking and sooty. Finally, Dora stumbled out of the fire and tripped on the hearth. Fortunately, Harry had recovered enough to catch her before she hit the floor.

“Ta Harry,” Dora managed to gasp between coughs.

“There she is. My little cousin Dora... graceful as ever,” chortled Sirius. Lupin chuckled and shook his head at Sirius.

“Oi... watch it Sirius,” Dora retorted, shooting Sirius a glare as she dusted herself off, before addressing the wizard beside him, “Wotcher Lupin!”

“Hello Tonks,” said Lupin, smiling. “Harry, Hermione... good to see you both looking so well.” 

Harry grinned to see Sirius and Lupin. Hermione’s mother and aunt stood beside them, regarding the fireplace with no small amount of awe as the green flames became orange once more. 

“Mum!” Hermione squealed happily, nearly flattening her mother as she flew across the floor and swept her into a big hug. 

“I’ve missed you too darling,” Jean Granger laughed as she returned her daughter’s embrace and gave her a kiss as Hermione’s aunt beamed at them both.

There were hugs to be had all around as Harry and Hermione were welcomed home, and Jean was pleased that Harry no longer flinched at her touch. He was taller than when last she had seen him, and seemed more grown up than ever - in fact he and Hermione both did.

As Harry peered around Number Twelve’s parlour, he wondered for a moment why it seemed so different. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he realised that he was looking at the most enormous television that he had ever seen. 

Without a doubt, Uncle Vernon - who was obsessed with having bigger and newer model gadgets than the neighbours at Privet Drive - would be apoplectic with jealousy if he could have seen it. Hermione and Dora were equally stunned when they spotted it.

“Ah yes,” Sirius grinned. “I reckoned it was about time we caught up with the muggle world...”

“Oh hush,” admonished Hermione’s aunt, “We know you did it to keep me and Jean occupied and keep us from getting bored.”

“Indeed,” Sirius agreed. “Still, it was one thing to see the occasional muggle film, but I can’t believe what I’ve been missing out on...”

“That’s brilliant!” Harry interjected with a huge grin on his face. “How did you do it?”

“Fortunately, Number Twelve’s library is quite exhaustive,” Lupin responded. “Sirius and I located the book with the necessary charms for operating electronics purely on magic after a brief search.”

“And thanks to Remus’s ingenuity, we’re able to pick up American as well as British channels, so there’s always something to watch,” Sirius beamed. “And we picked up a VCR while we were at it...”

“And as you can see,” said Lupin, rolling his eyes and pointing to the electronic equipment next to the TV, “Sirius also purchased the most expensive stereo system available...”

“Well, there’s no point in not having the best as I can well afford it,” Sirius retorted with a grin. “Anyway Harry, there’s also a television and a stereo system in the ‘Bridal Suite’ so that you and Hermione can enjoy your entertainment anytime you please - lazing in bed, or whatever else you’re getting up to...”

Harry and Hermione both turned pink. 

“Er... _Bridal Suite?”_ they squeaked in unison, glancing at Hermione’s mother who seemed to be trying her best not to laugh. Lupin rubbed at his forehead, eyebrows raised, trying to hide a wry little smile. Dora chortled at the expressions on Harry and Hermione’s faces.

“Oh yes, we redid your adjoining rooms to be more befitting of a married couple,” said Sirius breezily. “Take a look.” Sirius led Harry and Hermione through Number 12 to their rooms. 

Sure enough, they had been remodeled a bit. Harry’s room - now Hermione’s as well - was more or less the same, though it now contained a television and stereo system; the other room had been converted into a private sitting room, and a luxurious bathroom had been added. Hermione gasped when she peered in the wardrobe and found several new evening gowns alongside Harry’s tuxedo. 

As promised by Hermione’s mother, a “small” celebration of the Potters’ marriage was held - beginning with an early dinner at another one of London’s finest restaurants, followed by an evening of dancing at a London nightclub. Harry was delighted to see Hermione in an evening gown again. Dora grumbled at being cajoled into dressing up for the occasion. 

At the end of the evening, they returned to Number Twelve and retired to the parlour where wedding cake and champagne was served by Sirius and Lupin. And though Harry and Hermione were worn out, they watched a bit of television with everyone before going to bed.

Harry had finished getting ready first. He clambered into the bed sighing happily, though feeling a bit awkward at the idea that Hermione’s mother was under the same roof, perfectly aware of what her daughter would be getting up to. Pushing that thought aside, while waiting for Hermione, he decided to have a go at practicing his metamorphmagus talent, remembering that there was one thing that he had yet to master. 

He turned pink when Hermione returned from the bathroom, having finished washing up and cleaning her teeth a bit quicker than he thought she would.

“What are you doing Harry?”

“Oh... er... erm... practicing?”

Hermione peered at him in amusement and she raised her eyebrows. Harry was waiting for her in bed without any pyjamas on and he had looked up at her like a deer caught in headlights after quickly dropping the covers over himself. She had a sneaking suspicion what he might have been working on.

“Hmm... You wouldn’t happen to be ‘practicing’ your metamorphic talent on a certain body part would you?” Hermione asked with a straight face.

Hermione burst into giggles when Harry turned a deeper shade of red. Hermione pulled off her nightie and leapt onto the bed.

“Come on, let’s see it then...” she grinned, lifting up the covers. “Oh!” she said, seeing that Harry was back to normal.

“You sound disappointed.”

“NO! I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t mean...”

Harry launched a tickle attack and soon Hermione was rolling on the bed with tears of laughter streaming down her face. Hermione ended up on her back gasping for air. Harry kissed her, gently brushing his fingers across her cheeks.

“Next time I’ll practice with your assistance,” Harry said playfully, “I’m sorry, I just got embarrassed.”

“I know,” Hermione responded, still feeling a bit giggly. “But just to be perfectly clear, as entertaining as the idea of playing with you in girl-form is, I want you to know that I will never be disappointed with you as you are right now!”

Harry kissed Hermione again, this time more heatedly, and soon the bed rocked with passion...

**~o0o~**

Hermione sighed happily as she woke, pressed right up against Harry. It felt good to be with him in his bed again - her bed too now she reminded herself - at Number 12, which she was beginning to think of as home.

She spied the tent in the covers and giggled to herself, feeling rather naughty at the idea of waking Harry in the manner which he enjoyed the most, while under the same roof as her mother. Hermione ducked her bushy head under the covers and wriggled down, taking care not to wake Harry until just the right moment. 

As Hermione continued her ministrations, she heard a gasp, and knew that Harry was awake. Grinning, Harry returned the favour. Soon they were both gasping in each other’s arms as they lost themselves to bliss. Sparks of magic crackled; the bed shook and the lamp on the nightstand tumbled to the floor and shattered. 

There was a knocking at the bedroom door. Hermione’s head flew out from under the covers in alarm and without thinking she sat on Harry’s face.

“Is everything alright in there,” Jean Granger’s concerned voice called out.

“Y... yes Mum!” Hermione squeaked. “W... we’re fine. I... er... just knocked over a lamp getting out of bed,” she fibbed.

Jean smiled to herself and shook her head on the other side of the door. Hermione had always been dreadful at lying. Jean sighed as she made her way down the stairs to the kitchen, feeling a swell of awkwardness at having embarrassed her daughter, and no doubt her son-in-law as well.

“I’m so sorry Harry,” Hermione apologised profusely as she leapt up and Harry gasped for air, “I forgot to set a silencing charm on the room. Are you alright?”

Hermione’s expression turned to bewilderment as Harry burst into guffaws.

“Are you joking Hermione?” Harry gasped when he managed to catch a breath, “That was brilliant... I haven’t had such a good laugh in ages... But what happened? Did we release some accidental magic again?”

“I think so...” Hermione nodded, grinning. 

She giggled as another wave of naughtiness swept through her. She dragged her husband out of bed and into their private bathroom. They set a silencing charm and the steam rose as they turned on the shower.

**~o0o~**

The end of the Easter holidays arrived far too soon, and on the last day they had just finished breakfast when Sirius regarded the Potters solemnly; he glanced at Lupin who nodded with an encouraging look.

“Harry, Remus and I have decided to come up to Hogwarts to help keep an eye on things. We don’t want to just leave it in the rest of the Order’s hands...”

“Wait...” said Harry, puzzlement crossing his features, “Doesn’t the Ministry still have an arrest warrant for... er...” It suddenly occurred to Harry that it was a bit weird to call Lupin by his surname, as he was much more family than professor. 

“...erm... for Remus?” Harry concluded, thinking it still sounded a bit funny coming from his own mouth. Lupin looked particularly pleased to hear Harry addressing him thusly.

“Indeed they do,” Lupin replied. “However, Sirius and I will be staying in the Shrieking Shack, and I am quite capable of performing a disillusionment charm should I need to leave it for some reason.”

“And my animagus form is still unkown to the Ministry, so nobody except a few key Order members have to know that I am there,” Sirius added.

“But what about Mum, and Auntie Joanne?” asked Hermione, looking concerned. “Will they be able to stay in a magical home by themselves?”

“Ah, well that shouldn’t be a problem,” said Sirius. “Dumbledore spoke with Madam Bones, and she’s agreed to allow Auror Abigail Brixton to take a leave-of-absence to look after Jean and Joanne.”

“Abbie? Really?” Dora’s eyes widened in surprise.

“That’s the Auror who was interviewing Bob Ogden, wasn’t she?” said Hermione. “The one you like?”

“Yeah!” Dora nodded. “I suppose that makes sense seeing as she’s muggleborn. She should get on nicely with your mum and aunt.”

“That’s what Dumbledore and Madam Bones thought as well,” Sirius agreed. “Anyway, what I really wanted to tell you, is that I’m signing over one of the Black vaults at Gringotts and deeding Number 12 to you Harry... Consider it a wedding present for you and Hermione!”

Harry’s jaw dropped. To say that he was stunned was an understatement. Speechlessly he shared a look with Hermione, who seemed equally flabbergasted. And it was apparent from the astonished expressions on Hermione’s mother and aunt’s faces that this was the first they’d heard of it. 

“But... but where will you live after...” Harry began when his voice returned. “...er... after everything has been settled...” he continued hopefully, wondering if everything would be settled eventually.

“That ought not be a problem really,” said Sirius. “Remus and I should be able to take up residence in Black Manor. It passed into the other side of the family when my mother’s brother - Cygnus - inherited it. But as his daughters, my cousins - Andromeda, Narcissa, and Bellatrix - are all married and share the homes of their husbands, being the next heir in line by rights it belongs to me now.”

“Oh... er... alright then,” said Harry, feeling somewhat disappointed as he liked living with Sirius. Sirius seemed to know what Harry was thinking, as he smiled at Harry and tried to console him.

“Don’t worry Harry, you’ll always be part of my life,” he said gently, “...but you and Hermione will be needing a home of your own.”

**~o0o~**

When Harry returned to Hogwarts with Hermione, he was surprised to have received a letter while he was gone. The owl had arrived at breakfast the following morning, but it was clear from the stamp that the letter had originally been sent by muggle post. He frowned in perplex when he saw who it was from.

“That’s odd,” Harry told Hermione, “I wonder why Dudley would be writing to me. I can’t imagine Uncle Vernon allowing him to...”

Unfortunately, as classes had resumed, Harry didn’t have a chance to open it. Hermione noticed that Harry could barely concentrate during lessons, as distracted as he was, and took extra care to make sure that her notes were complete. Finally, classes were finished but Harry sighed, knowing that they ought to keep up with their exercise regimen.

“Don’t worry Harry,” Hermione insisted. “It won’t hurt to take one more day off.”

“Yeah... I suppose not,” Harry agreed. “I just didn’t want Professor Moody to think I’d gone soft over the holidays.”

As soon as the Potters were back in their quarters, Harry hurriedly tore open the envelope and began to read as Hermione looked over his shoulder. He was surprised to see the letter covered with splotchy tear stains. 

_Dear Harry,_

_I wasn’t sure of sending this letter by regular post, and I hope you get it. I didn’t know what else to do as I don’t have anyone else to talk to, and it has to do with you anyway._

_While I was at home for Easter holidays, Mum and Dad had huge row. Dad said you’re not to come back this summer, or ever again. He said he was tired of being bossed around by a bunch of freaks in his own house._

_When Mum said that you had to stay because it was the only way to protect you from the man who killed your parents, Dad went completely bonkers. He started hitting Mum when she wouldn’t back down. I tried to stop him, but he gave me a black eye, and then he knocked Mum down the stairs._

_She’s in the hospital right now with a concussion, a broken arm, and a few broken ribs. She won’t tell the doctors what really happened. I want to call the police, but she said not to, and that she would tell them that she just fell down the stairs if I did._

_I can’t think what to do, and I was hoping that you could help Maybe you could ask that big hairy bloke who told you that you’re a wizard to come and sort things out with Dad. I know Dad’s afraid of him. Please, I really need help._

_Dudley_

To say that Harry was shocked when he had finished reading the letter was an understatement. He really wasn’t sure what to think. The fact that Dudley was asking for Hagrid - who had given Dudley a pig’s tail - showed how desperate he was. 

Harry glanced at Hermione who looked absolutely appalled, tears trickling down her cheeks. As he remembered the things that Uncle Vernon had done to him, he suspected that Hermione probably couldn’t help but experience a flashback to what her own father had done to her mother. He was proved right when she spoke up.

“That... that’s so awful,” Hermione said haltingly. “As... b...bad as what my dad did to Mum is, it’s not nearly as dreadful as what your uncle did. And... and at least m... _my_ father knows wh...what _he_ did was wrong. I still c...can’t believe you had to live with such a horrible person.”

Harry wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. He rather thought it was just as awful in its own way, though he had to admit that it was probably because he loved Hermione so much, and because he really liked her mother. But he also knew that Hermione still loved her father despite being very angry at him.

For himself, as Harry ruminated on the turn of events, one thing was very clear; he hated Uncle Vernon with a vengeance. Harry was none too fond of Aunt Petunia either, recalling how she had once tried to bean him on the noggin with a frying pan - though in retrospect, he had to admit it had been a rather half-hearted swipe. And Harry was more than a bit startled that she had stood up to Uncle Vernon for him. 

Harry reckoned that she must actually care for him a bit after all. He supposed that Aunt Petunia still felt something for her sister - Harry’s mother - more than she had ever let on. Feeling an overwhelming surge of emotion, blinking back tears, he knew that he couldn’t leave Aunt Petunia and Dudley in Uncle Vernon’s hands, no matter how afraid Aunt Petunia was to leave Uncle Vernon.

“Hermione, I want to help, but I’m not sure what to do. I don’t know how Sirius would feel about Petunia and Dudley living at Number 12...”

“It’s alright Harry - Sirius will understand. Besides, Number 12 belongs to you now. If you want to have them there, it’s up to you.”

“Oh yeah... right! That’s true...” Harry’s eyebrows shot up. It still hadn’t quite sunk in that he was now the owner of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

“But you should probably talk to Professor Dumbledore,” said Hermione. “I’m not sure how this will affect the protection charms based on your Mum’s sacrifice.”

“Yeah... yeah, you’re right Hermione,” Harry replied, nodding. “But whatever he says, I don’t care about the charms. I’m not going to let Uncle Vernon hurt them anymore...”

**~o0o~**

Dumbledore peered at the letter from Dudley again and sighed as he considered the ramifications. This presented a serious problem, yet he knew that Harry was right. Vernon Dursley had made it plain, in no uncertain terms, that Harry could no longer reside at Number 4 Privet Drive.

In the end, Harry’s plan made the most sense - not just from a moral perspective, but from a logistical one too. As long as Petunia resided under the same roof as Harry, the protection charms ought to still be effective.

“Very well Harry,” Dumbledore agreed, “I am uncertain how your aunt will feel about the move. It is possible that she might feel as if she is being kidnapped - but if your cousin Dudley accepts your invitation to move to Number 12, I expect that your aunt will join him.” 

“Excellent! I’ll send a letter to Dudley straight away...” began Harry.

“I think perhaps that we should move with great haste,” Dumbledore interjected. “I will meet with your cousin immediately, and together he and I shall visit your aunt in the hospital and convince Petunia to live at Number 12. I am not sure what to do about your uncle though. The charms placed on you also protect him from Voldemort.”

“I don’t care about him,” said Harry, his features hardening as his nostrils flared with anger. “He can go hang as far I’m concerned.”

Hermione glanced at Harry sadly, biting her lip. Dumbledore peered into Harry’s eyes with some apprehension, then he sighed and nodded, his features softening. 

“I understand your feelings Harry,” he said gently, “Given the hardships that you have borne - that I myself bear some responsibility for - I cannot blame you in the slightest. Truly you are far more forgiving than anyone has any right to expect from you. 

“To be willing to take in your aunt and cousin - who themselves were both responsible for much of the abuse heaped upon you in your formative years - is a true demonstration of your sterling character... No doubt your uncle belongs in prison, where he can no longer cause anyone harm.

“Regardless Harry, I cannot in good conscience simply leave your uncle - despite all the suffering he has inflicted upon you - to face the all too likely prospect of being murdered by Voldemort without at least offering him some options... 

“I myself will approach him and give him the choice of remaining at Number 4 Privet Drive, or being relocated to some foreign country, beyond Voldemort’s reach. Whatever choice he makes will be entirely up to him... If Vernon Dursley wishes to remain at Number 4, then so be it.”

**~o0o~**

Draco knew better than to expect to return home for Easter - he never had before - but it was of little concern to him. He was leaving Hogwarts at the first opportunity he got, but there was someone who deserved some retribution before he left. And with a little careful planning Draco would be leaving with a valuable prize indeed - something which would cause his enemy pain, something which Draco deserved more than anything.

Once he returned home, Draco reckoned that Father might be a bit cross at first, but Draco knew that he would understand. There was no way that Draco was going to remain at Hogwarts as long as Dumbledore was in charge. And with a bit of luck, perhaps he could convince Father to send him to Durmstrang instead.

Following the end of Easter, and several letters back and forth, Draco received two packages in the post. His eyes narrowed when he addressed Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott in the Slytherin Common Room after breakfast. He waited until the rest of Slytherin cleared out for classes. The less people who knew about this the better.

“Right you lot,” Draco addressed his gang with an authoritative glare, “Now don’t forget who’s boss around here. If any of you rat me out, I’ll make sure Fenrir Greyback knows how to find you. He’s done some work for Father before, so don’t think that I don’t know him and that I’m just pretending.”

Crabbe and Goyle nodded their heads fearfully. They had no doubt about that, as their fathers had also done some “work” for the Malfoy Warlock on occasion. Theodore Nott smirked at them. Draco opened the first parcel and his friend and his minions oohed with awe.

Draco’s new wand was a masterpiece of construction, 10 inches of ebony stained wood with a carved spiral along its length. Its grip was a silver serpent’s head which glittered in the flickering light of the common room fire.

“It’s a Gregorovitch Wand made to order based on the specifications of the wand that Snape stole from me,” Draco remarked. “My friend Gehlen says Gregorovitch makes Ollivander look like an amateur.”

Pleased with the way it felt in his hand, Draco waved his new wand about and tried a couple of simple transfigurations. His mug turned into a mouse and scurried away. Delighted, Draco opened his second parcel. His gangs’ eyes all widened, and they gasped as one as Draco carefully unfolded a silvery piece of fabric.

 _“This_ was much harder to come by, and it was bloody expensive” said Draco proudly. “Gehlen tracked down an Italian Wizard who makes really good ones - but he only makes two or three a year. I was very lucky that he had one in stock.”


	34. Wicked Ways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning for this chapter:** violence, language, Trigger Warning.

The chamber was shrouded in darkness, except for the glaring light which was focused on the centre of the room. The two warlocks seated in the shadows - their faces expressionless - intently regarded the individual shackled to the stone chair directly under the beam of light. The Minister nodded at the Unspeakable assisting her in the interrogation.

Augustus Rookwood implicitly understood the unspoken order. He raised his wand and the red arc of the Cruciatus Curse struck the prisoner. 

The prisoner’s screams echoed in the chamber and throughout the halls of the secret detention wing of the Department of Mysteries. As the scruffy hooligan clad in black leather and jeans writhed in agony, the Minister raised her hand and Rookwood let up, bringing the torture spell to an end.

“I’m tellin’ ya... I dunno nuffin’...” sobbed the illegally held detainee - one of Voldemort’s recruits known as Snatchers. “‘E never gives us any details!”

“The location...” The Minister’s voice was steely and deceptively calm, nothing at all like the tone she used in public settings. “Where is Voldemort hiding?”

“‘Ow the ‘ell should I know? I ain’t the Secret Keeper!” the Snatcher replied. “All I know is that ‘e’s got some bloke the name o’ Wormtail in charge, an’ a muggle bint locked up in the basement.”

Lucius Malfoy and Cassius Nott glanced at each other, eyes wide with surprise at the Snatcher’s stunning assertion.

 _“Wormtail?_ ... Wormtail is the Dark Lord’s Second?” Lucius’s tone was skeptical. “Are you certain of this?”

“You heard him...” Minister Umbridge said commandingly when the confused Snatcher didn’t respond right away. “Answer the question!”

The Snatcher warily eyed the deadly looking blade - already stained with blood - in the Minister’s hand. He swallowed anxiously.

“It’s true... I swear it’s true! ‘Is name is Wormtail - an’ ‘e’s the one ‘oo carries out the Dark Lord’s orders... ‘e’s the one ‘oo tells us wot to do.”

“Who else is in Voldemort’s employ?” asked the Minister. 

“I swear... I dunno! Please...” the Snatcher begged.

“Someone must have recruited you - give me a name!” The Minister’s icy tone froze the Snatcher’s blood, which was already dripping from several gashes on each of his arms. “I can use this knife again... or the Cruciatus Curse if you prefer...”

“Avery...” the Snatcher gasped. “The bloke ‘oo recruited me... ‘is name is Avery.”

“We already know about Avery,” the Minister said coldly. “I need more... give me some more names.”

“I never met anyone else besides Avery an’ Wormtail - you ‘ave to believe me!” The Snatcher trembled with fear as the Minister’s blade neared his forearm once more. “Alright - please... I ‘eard Wormtail an’ the Dark Lord mention a couple o’ blokes called Crabbe and Goyle... But that’s it - I dunno anyone else besides some o’ the other Snatchers.”

Minister Umbridge glanced at the two warlocks in the shadows. They both nodded.

“Again, that only confirms what we already know,” said the Minister, her eyes narrowing. “If that’s the best you can do... Tell me about MacNair - what’s his role in Voldemort’s organisation?”

“I swear I dunno... They never mentioned ‘im in fron’ of me!”

The Minister raised the knife again warningly.

 _ **“I swear... I swear... I dunno ‘oo MacNair is!”**_ the Snatcher screamed. “Ya gotta believe me!”

Minister Umbridge hesitated, considering her options. She could continue the interrogation of course, but it was clear that the hooligan had little knowledge of Voldemort’s inner-circle or his plans. And torturing him just for the pleasure of it seemed a waste of time better spent. But there was a chance he might prove useful at some point.

“Very well! ... That’s enough for now. Consider yourself lucky,” said the Minister. “Rookwood, take this miscreant back to his cell and have someone see to his wounds.”

A cruel smirk curled the corners of Rookwood’s lips as he unshackled the prisoner and dragged him out of the Chamber. Rookwood was disappointed that the session hadn’t lasted as long as he would have liked, but he supposed he would get another crack at the Snatcher eventually.

**~o0o~**

Cassius Nott settled in the plush green armchair in front of the fire, more than pleased to rest his backside in the warmth, aching as he was after sitting on a cold metal bench for an hour. He glanced around Lucius Malfoy’s parlour, admiring the decor as he always did. Cassius’s manor wasn’t nearly as opulent as Lucius’s.

“Brandy?” asked Lucius dryly. “I’m sure you could use a stiff one after this evening’s entertainment.”

“Firewhiskey!” Cassius chuckled. “Quit joking around... You know what I like!”

Lucius smiled; he did know. Cassius was a hard drinker, and preferred something with a real punch.

“Of course!” said Lucius as he opened a bottle of Ogden’s Finest. “How about a double?”

“Yeah! Sounds about right,” Cassius replied. “So, what’s new with you?” he asked after downing the double shot in one swallow as Lucius poured him another. “Where’s the Missus?”

A scowl replaced the sardonic smile on Lucius’s features. 

“Gone!” he muttered. “My treacherous bitch of a wife is gone. And apparently she’s not returning. I received a notice this morning that she is filing for divorce.”

“You’re joking!” gasped Cassius. “How can she do that? I thought you had a contract.”

“I did,” snarled Lucius. “However, the goblin solicitors she retained went over the contract with a fine toothcomb, and discovered a hidden clause buried in the fine print that could see her with half of my estate! 

“Apparently my father wasn’t as careful as he should have been, and Cygnus Black was a crafty old bastard, always looking for an angle to increase the Black fortune. And the modern laws banning contract marriages are not retroactive... Which unfortunately works against my interests in this case, as the old contracts established prior to the ban are still enforced.”

“That’s a bloody shame!” Cassius commiserated. 

“Indeed it is,” hissed a high, cold voice coming from the shadows. “...such a shame!”

Startled, both warlocks spun around, wands at the ready, to see a figure emerging from the darkness in the entrance of the parlour. 

Lucius and Cassius both paled when they beheld the familiar features of someone from their past - someone best left there. The Dark Lord stood before them, shaking his head, bearing a look of disappointment upon his serpent-like countenance.

“How did you get in?” asked Lucius, trying to keep his tone even and nonchalant.

“Lucius, my slippery friend...” The Dark Lord’s sarcastic tone promised that the evening would not end well. “Surely you did not believe that your wards would be strong enough to keep _me_ out of your quaint little home. They were child's-play for one such as myself... I, who have pushed the boundaries of magic beyond the limit of ordinary mortals such as yourselves.”

Lucius smiled wryly as his eyes narrowed, a twitch in his jaw the only sign of his consternation. Fortunately he had prepared for an eventuality such as this. Lucius glanced at Cassius, inwardly sighing; there was only an out for one, and if it came down to him or Cassius, his friend was expendable. Voldemort caught the look, and turned his attention to Cassius Nott.

“Ah yes! Nott, fancy finding you here...” The Dark Lord smiled dangerously, red eyes flashing, then returned to Lucius. “What a cozy little meeting. Such a gracious host, Lucius... are you not going to offer your Master a libation?”

Lucius peered at Voldemort, returning the sinister smile and lifting his chin as he set his resolve. 

“I have no Master!” Lucius asserted. 

“Yes,” the Dark Lord hissed, “...quite true! Now you are beholden to the Dark Witch. But your Mistress cannot save you from my wrath! You know what happens to those who betray me!”

Lucius was ready. As the Dark Lord slashed his wand, Lucius had already broken the seal on the emergency portkey in the pocket of his robes. Voldemort roared in fury as Lucius Malfoy vanished. Nott took his chance while Voldemort was distracted and shot a green bolt of lightning at him. 

But the Dark Lord was not to be taken so easily; he slipped out of the path of the Killing Curse and was upon Nott in an instant. Voldemort set the parlour ablaze with a Fiendfyre Curse, and disapparated with Nott in his clutches.

Lucius reappeared just outside the border of his estate, just in time to see it go up in flames. He cursed when the pain in his arm caught his attention. Lucius was bleeding profusely from a deep gash that Voldemort had opened across his forearm, and he realised that he had dropped his wand in the parlour when the Dark Lord’s spell had grazed him. 

Lucius cursed again when he peered at his wound, and knew that he was in no condition to apparate. His emergency portkey only had one charge, and he was without a broom. The only means of travel available to him were his feet.

**~o0o~**

Harry and Hermione strolled happily through the village of Hogsmeade, enjoying the unseasonably warm sunshine. They spotted Neville and Hannah Abbot conversing cheerily in Madam Puddifoot’s, then a short while later they came across Dean and Susan Bones in Honeydukes. Harry looked puzzled.

“What’s up with that Hermione? I thought Dean and Ginny were an item... and shouldn’t Neville be with Luna? They went to the Yule Ball together.”

Hermione giggled. “I don’t think Dean and Neville were actually Ginny’s and Luna’s boyfriends, Harry, though I think Dean and Neville both hoped they might be eventually... As it turns out, Hannah Abbot has always liked Neville - they’re always paired up in Herbology. And I saw Dean chatting up Susan Bones the other day.”

“Okay...” Harry thought about it for a moment. There still seemed to be something missing. “Yeah... but what about Luna and Ginny? How do they feel about it?”

“I’m not sure really,” Hermione shrugged. “I know they’ve been hanging out together an awful lot lately. Maybe that’s why Neville and Dean moved on.”

Sure enough, when Harry and Hermione entered the Three Broomsticks, they spied Luna and Ginny in one of the darker corners of the pub, sitting next to each other closely. They appeared to be whispering to one another in the shadows, but as Harry smiled and waved to them, catching their attention, Ginny and Luna pulled apart quickly, blushing and giggling. 

Hermione grinned, finally catching on, but Harry still looked a bit bewildered. Dora, who had taken her usual seat at the bar, peered at the two third year girls and smirked a bit. Harry was still pondering the significance of the blushes on Luna’s and Ginny’s faces when one of the people he had invited to the Three Broomsticks entered the pub. 

“Hi Harry, Hermione,” said Cedric as he pulled back a chair and took a seat. “So what’s this all about then?”

“Er... hang on for a bit Cedric,” Harry replied. “We’re waiting for Fleur and Viktor too, and maybe a couple of others... oh, there they are now.”

Fleur glanced at the bar as she sauntered in, shooting Dora a winning smile. Dora turned a bit pink, eyes widening, a soppy grin on her face. Right behind Fleur were Viktor and Lavender, followed by Parvati and Daphne. 

Recovering from her flustered moment, Dora glanced around the pub, satisfied that there were currently no other patrons. She beckoned Rosmerta and murmured something in her ear. Rosmerta nodded and exited from behind the bar, closing and locking the front door; she hung up a sign indicating that the Three Broomsticks was closed for a private party. 

Hermione waved Luna and Ginny over to join them as several tables were pulled together and Rosmerta brought over butterbeers for everyone. Cedric was a bit perplexed, wishing now that he had brought Cho along. There was a round of hellos and greetings as everyone took seats and settled in.

“Erm...” Harry began, glancing around the tables, then peering anxiously at Hermione. 

“It’s alright Harry,” said Hermione. “Just take your time.”

“Er... alright!” Harry tried to start again. 

“Well, mostly I thought that we - er... the Champions that is - should have a chat about the Third Task. But we’re all friends, and I... erm... Hermione and I -we reckoned the rest of you might as well join us too.

“As some of you already know by now, it seems that the Minister is probably going to make the Third Task almost impossible to beat. So... er... I thought perhaps we should all work together on this. I really don’t give a hang who wins, I just don’t want anyone to get killed just because the Minister’s out to get me. One of you can take the prize, I really don’t care...”

Cedric’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Are you serious Harry?” 

“Dead serious,” Harry said grimly. “Look, we need to make a plan, and I thought we should practice working together - as a team - so we can all survive... We’ve got almost two and a half months to work on it... Dumbledore’s already talked to Madam Maxime and Karkaroff about it, and they’re both alright with it.” 

Hermione glanced at Dora who nodded, and carried on where Harry left off, peering meaningfully at Ginny, Luna, Parvati, and Lavender. 

“...And seeing as Daphne is already training with us anyway,” she said, “we figured the rest of you ought to as well. You’re are best friends, and Dora’s already okay’d it with Professor Moody and Dumbledore.”

“And that brings us to the other thing we thought you should all know,” said Harry. “Voldemort’s back...” Harry waited for all of the shocked expressions and gasps to abate before he continued. “...and that’s why I wanted you all to train with us...”

“What about the Twins and Ron?” asked Ginny, frowning slightly. 

“And Neville and Dean,” Luna added. “Shouldn’t we tell everyone?”

“Well, that’s just it,” Hermione answered, “given who’s in charge at the Ministry, Dumbledore thinks that the Minister will just deny it and try to say that we’re making it all up to stir up trouble. Anyway, your Mum and Dad already know, Ginny...”

“...And so does your father, Luna,” Harry interjected. “They’re all part of the... er... well, they’re all in on it together with some of the professors too...”

“Anyway,” Hermione continued, “we can’t have too many of us training to fight at the moment, in case the school board gets wind of it...”

“...and sooner or later Voldemort’s going to show his hand anyway,” said Harry. “The Minister won’t be able to keep it under wraps then...” 

“And _**that’s**_ when we’ll be able to let _everyone_ in on it! Dumbledore should be able to convince the school board then that _all_ the students should learn how to defend themselves properly,” Hermione concluded. 

“So how about it?” Harry peered at everyone hopefully. “You all up for it?”

“Of course we are!” Parvati said quickly, grinning. “Right Lavender?”

Lavender looked a bit anxious at the thought of fighting, but she nodded. Viktor gave her a comforting squeeze.

“Do not vorry, Lavender,” he said. “I vill help you. I am vell trained in ze fighting spells.”

Ginny and Luna both said “Yes please!” in unison, looking excited.

**~o0o~**

Something was very wrong!

Pansy Parkinson had thought that she would be happy when Daphne Greengrass left Slytherin, but Draco continued to pull away from her. He seemed more distant than ever. And Pansy had to admit, it seemed very suspicious that Draco and his friends had been confined to Slytherin House the very same day that Daphne had vacated the fourth year girls dormitory.

As much as Pansy was jealous that Daphne had caught Draco’s nearly obsessive attentions, Pansy couldn’t honestly say that she disliked Daphne. It hadn’t been her fault after all. Daphne had done her utmost to put Draco off; she had refused his offer to take her to the Yule Ball for Pansy’s sake. And it was obvious that Daphne had taken a serious dislike to Draco after the incident with the Unicorns.

Pansy woke up suddenly, wondering why Millicent’s bed was empty. Curious, Pansy crept out of the dormitory as quietly as a dormouse. Her eyes widened when she spotted Millicent leading Astoria from the Second Year dorm to the common room. Silently, Pansy followed, taking care not to be seen. 

Pansy clasped her hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp when she spied Draco and Theo waiting for Millicent and Astoria in the common room. She heard Draco mutter something which sounded suspiciously like “imperio.” Then Draco, Nott, and Astoria disappeared under a silvery slip of fabric, vanishing altogether, and the door to Slytherin House opened and shut seemingly of its own accord. 

She held her breath, heart pumping, and flattened herself against the wall in the shadows when Millicent passed by, apparently returning to the fourth year dorm. Millicent had a strangely glassy look in her eyes and Pansy suddenly realised what had happened. Pansy’s breath quickened in dismay as she wondered what she ought to do. 

Reaching a decision, steeling herself, Pansy cautiously made her way to the common room and opened the door. She crept through the castle, keeping a careful watch for Filch and any of the Aurors securing the Triwizard Tournament. Finally she arrived at the corridor where she knew that Daphne now resided. Pansy was almost certain that Daphne’s room was to the right of the door at the end of the corridor.

Pansy knocked quietly. When nobody answered, she knocked a bit louder. Finally the door creaked open and Daphne stood there, her bleary eyes widening when she saw who it was.

“Pansy... What are you doing here? It’s late and I’m tired...”

“Sssh,” Pansy hissed, furtively looking around. “It’s Astoria...” she whispered. “I think Draco’s taking her somewhere. I saw her with Draco and Nott in the common room, and I think Draco imperiused her...”

Daphne gasped in horror - her heart leapt in her throat. Grasping Pansy’s hand, Daphne scurried to the Potters' door and began knocking loudly.

“What are you doing?” Pansy squeaked.

“Waking Harry Potter!” said Daphne. “He’ll know what to do.” Both Potters looked sleepy and puzzled when they answered the door in their dressing gowns. 

“Harry, you’ve got to do something,” Daphne gasped, breathing rapidly, terror in her eyes. “Draco’s kidnapping Astoria, and we don’t have time to wake Dumbledore.” 

The signs of slumber quickly vanished from the Potters’ eyes. 

“Hermione, stay here a moment... I’ll be right back. I’m going to grab the map, my invisibility cloak and our wands...” said Harry. 

“Of course Harry!” Hermione replied anxiously. In a trice Harry returned and the Potters strapped their wand holsters around their waists. They both peered at the map, gasping in surprise when they found Draco’s name.

“Daphne, you and Pansy stay here!” Harry insisted. “Wake Dor... er... Tonks! She’s in that door right there. She’ll get help. Tell her to go to the statue of the One-Eyed-Witch... There’s a secret passage behind it.”

Flinging Harry’s invisibility cloak over themselves, the Potters vanished. Harry and Hermione ran through the hallways until they reached the statue of the One-Eyed-Witch. Harry glanced at the map again.

“They’re still on Hogwarts grounds,” he said, looking perplexed. “They seem to have stopped in the tunnel... like they’re waiting for something.”

“I wonder how Malfoy knows about this tunnel...” Hermione murmured as the statue slid aside, revealing the passage out of the castle.

**~o0o~**

Draco chortled when he and Theo reached the waiting point. Everything had gone even better than Draco could have hoped for. His practice with the two most dangerous Unforgivables on rodents had been successful. As test subjects for the Imperius Curse, the Petrificus hex, and the Silencio charm, Crabbe and Goyle had been the perfect “volunteers.” And the map that Theo’s father had sent had been right on the money.

Millicent had brought Astoria sooner than expected, and they were at least forty minutes early before Gehlen was supposed to arrive from the Honeydukes entrance with the Portkey. That was plenty of time.

“Theo, keep an eye out,” said Draco gleefully, unable to contain his excitement. This was better than Christmas. “I’m going to inspect my new acquisition.”

“No problem Draco... I’ve got it!” Theo rolled his eyes and shook his head, smirking. 

Astoria’s head began to clear. It was dark and musty wherever she was. Astoria wondered what had happened. The last thing she remembered was Millicent waking her. Millicent had told her that Daphne was waiting for her in the common room, but the only people Astoria had seen were Draco and Theo, then all had gone blank.

Her eyes widened in shock when she saw Draco looming over her, leering and grinning. She couldn’t move. _**Why couldn’t she move?**_ She tried to scream, but nothing came out of her mouth. Terror gripped her when Draco began viciously tearing at her nightclothes.

**~o0o~**

Harry and Hermione sped down the dark passage, wands lit. Feeling panicky, Hermione’s heart raced as she puffed heavily trying to keep up with Harry. She picked up speed and was soon running next to Harry. There appeared to be some light up ahead and she could hear voices.

“Be careful Harry!” she gasped breathlessly, looking worried. “Maybe we should approach more stealthily.” 

But Harry barreled on, barely hearing Hermione. All he could think about at that moment was stopping Draco from making off with Astoria. Harry had faced down a dragon; he’d fought off kappa assassins and merpeople. Whatever Malfoy had up his sleeve couldn’t possibly compare to that.

Ahead in the dimly lit part of the passage, Harry and Hermione could just make out three figures. Their eyes widened in shock. They were both appalled when they realised that two of the figures were Draco unbuckling his belt and roughly groping a half-naked girl on the stone floor of the passage.

A white-hot firestorm of fury blazed through Harry; all he could see was red.

Draco looked up with a start, eyes popping when he heard the echo of running footsteps rapidly approaching, and he went ashen when he recognised who was bearing down on him.

 **“POTTER!”** Malfoy yelled with fright. Then his fear evaporated and his features hardened as his anger and bitter hate took over. 

_**“Potter!”**_ he snarled. “Glad you could make it to the party!” 

Draco felt a surge of satisfaction. His opportunity to achieve what his father and the minister had failed to accomplish was finally at hand. He was more than ready to take on Potter and his pet Mudblood. Draco’s hand flew to his wand and Theo whirled around with the wand he had stolen from Astoria. 

Theo fired off a tripping jinx that missed. He tried again, this time with a stunning spell which he had been practicing after Potter had taken Draco down so easily with it. Hermione returned his fire with a stunning spell of her own, but Theo darted out of the way just in time, sparks ricocheting from the tunnel walls. 

Draco refused to bother with such paltry spells. He was going to finish this once and for all! He pointed his wand and began to bellow his curse. 

**“AVADA KEDAV...”** But Draco was unable to complete his incantation. 

Too enraged to speak, Harry had wordlessly whipped his wand twice. 

Malfoy howled in agony as his wand hand parted from his wrist, a scarlet spray of blood spattering the stone walls of the secret passage. Screams emerged from Nott’s mouth as his fingers flew and landed nearby in another bloom of red. They both collapsed on the stone floor of the tunnel. 

Hermione shrieked, shocked at the sight of all the blood. Harry yanked off his dressing gown and wrapped it around Astoria, lifting the trembling girl gently. Boiling tears of rage streamed down Harry’s fiery red cheeks. Astoria seemed so tiny and light in his shaking arms. 

Harry stalked over to the whimpering Malfoy, who was holding his bloody stump with his other hand. Harry kicked him hard in the balls twice - wrenching more screams from Malfoy - and finally managed to break his own silence. 

_**“You fucking little coward!”**_ Harry shouted. “You sick piece of shite! ... I should have just ended you, you bastard!” 

Hermione shivered, her own tears trickling down her cheeks. Loud apparition cracks echoed in the tunnel. Tonks had arrived with Dumbledore and Flitwick, Pomfrey, and Shacklebolt. Dumbledore ran over to Harry, whose arms held a small girl swathed in a robe which seemed many times too large for her. 

Madam Pomfrey could see that Astoria was going into shock. Poppy’s face was etched with horror as she took the delicate girl from Harry’s arms. She glowered at Malfoy and Nott, and without a word, she nodded her head towards Dumbledore to indicate that he should deal with the rest of those in need. Then she disapparated with Astoria. 

Dumbledore walked slowly to the boys who were sobbing on the floor of the passage next to their missing hands and digits, his gaze cold and icy. The Headmaster saw Astoria’s nightgown and torn underwear lying nearby. As the moaning criminals looked up at the Headmaster, his piercing blue eyes penetrated their own. 

Albus Dumbledore was sickened by everything he saw, and he felt an urge to vomit. He looked back at Harry sadly, who was holding his weeping wife in his arms. Harry swallowed anxiously, suddenly afraid that he had gone too far. 

“Well done Harry!” Albus said softly with a dangerous look in his eyes. “A most fitting reward for their crimes. I appreciate your restraint - not killing them... But I would have understood if you had done so. I shall do my utmost to see them both in Azkaban.” 

Dumbledore’s face hardened and he turned to address Shacklebolt with an iron voice. 

“Please see to it that the _right_ Aurors deal with this filth. I have seen as much of them as I care to today. Dress their wounds, but be sure to immediately have veritaserum administered, and their memories examined in a pensieve before they are admitted to St Mungo’s. Please also have Mr Malfoy’s illegal wand examined. 

“You will find all the spells which he has cast recently on Miss Greengrass. A close inspection will also find traces of Mr Malfoy’s hands on Miss Greengrass’s clothing and person. Take the evidence to Madam Bones immediately, before the Minister has a chance to interfere with the investigation.” 

**~o0o~**

Fawkes ruffled his feathers and eyed the headmaster with a look of concern. Having returned to his office and resetting the anti-apparition charms, Albus Dumbledore rested his elbows on his desk, his hands covering his face. After some time had passed, he lifted his head, tears flowing freely into his whiskers.

Albus reached into the right-hand drawer of his desk and took out his little picture of Ariana. Touching the glass with his fingers, Albus wept some more. After a short while longer, he reached again into the drawer, and held the ring with the cracked black gemstone in his hand. 

Finally, Albus wiped away his tears with a hanky. He unstoppered his bottle of firewhiskey and poured himself a large glass, then squeezed a slice of lemon into it, trying to pull himself together.

**~o0o~**

“Come on you two,” said Dora quietly after Shacklebolt sent for more Aurors. “You should get back to your quarters and try to get at least a few hours sleep.”

“I don’t know if I can now,” Harry muttered, still feeling highly agitated as he took another look at all of the blood.

“It’s alright Harry!” Hermione could read the guilt all over his face. “You didn’t do anything wrong... Malfoy was trying to kill us, and you saved Astoria from being kidnapped and raped...”

“But not soon enough...” Harry felt torn, ashamed that he’d come so close to killing Malfoy - he had wanted to so badly - and guilty for not arriving before Astoria had been violated as much as she already had. 

Dora wasn’t quite sure what to say, but she had a go at it. 

“Listen to Hermione, Harry... It would ‘ave been much worse for Astoria if you ‘adn’t got here when you did - and that disgusting little bastard got everything he deserved.”

Harry nodded dejectedly, trying to tell himself that Dora and Hermione were right. He and Hermione were silent as they followed Dora first to the hospital wing for some calming and sleeping draughts, and then back to their chambers. 

Harry held onto Hermione as tightly as he could when they clambered back into bed. But even after the sleeping draughts took effect as they cuddled each other, it was still nearly five in the morning before they both finally drifted off.

It was noon when the Potters were woken by a knocking on their door. When they opened it, Dora was standing there still in her nightgown. 

“Mornin’ Harry, Hermione... Dumbledore wants us all in his office.”

“Er... alright,” said Harry, swallowing nervously and glancing at Hermione, who looked equally anxious. “We’ll be ready in a bit.”

Despite his anxiety, Harry felt a bit better than he had during the night, and more assured that he had done the right thing. After they had all showered and dressed, Dora led Harry and Hermione to Dumbledore’s office. When they saw the two posh looking people with Dumbledore, the Potters had a very good idea who they were.

“Good morning Harry, Mrs Potter,” said Dumbledore, who looked like he hadn’t got any sleep at all. “This is Mr and Mrs Greengrass, Daphne’s and Astoria’s parents. They would like very much to meet you both.”

“Er... hi,” Harry began, not sure what else to say. Harry was taken aback when Mr Greengrass and Mrs Greengrass both embraced him without warning, and then Hermione, who was just as speechless. 

“Mr Potter, my family will forever be indebted to you and your wife for your courageous acts in protecting both of our daughters.” Mr Greengrass fought back tears as he spoke. “If you and your wife hadn’t been there...”

Mr Greengrass’s attempts to hold back the dam failed as he choked up and lost his voice. His wife took him in her arms, tears welling in her own eyes.

Mrs Greengrass took over where Mr Greengrass had left off. “Astoria will be coming home with us after we return to St Mungo’s. Daphne is with her at the moment, but she will be returning to Hogwarts in a few days. We can’t thank you both enough...”

Mr Greengrass finally composed himself and addressed Dumbledore. 

“And thank you Headmaster Dumbledore! ... I am given to understand that you had already placed Daphne in a protected wing of the castle next to the Potters. You will have our full support in the Wizengamot - we will do our utmost to see you returned as Chief Warlock...”

**~o0o~**

Albus Dumbledore sighed heavily as he watched the Potters and the Greengrasses departing from his office, wishing that he could have done more.

Severus had wanted to expel Crabbe and Goyle too, but there was no clear evidence that they had any knowledge of the kidnapping and attempted rape of Astoria Greengrass. They were only aware that Draco was bent on escaping from Hogwarts.

But Dumbledore had to admit, though it had been very trying, it had ultimately been gratifying to have spoken with the parents of the victim, and also of the primary attacker. Albus hadn’t expected to find new allies in his struggle with the new Minister and the Pureblood Supremacists in the Wizengamot.

And not just the Greengrasses.

Most surprising of all was Narcissa Malfoy’s pledge of support - not only against the current administration at the Ministry, but also against the Death Eaters who had not yet thrown in with Minister Umbridge. She had whispered of dark rumours and the hopes of those who remained loyal to Voldemort.

But Dumbledore couldn’t forget what he had witnessed after a pensieve viewing of the memories of all those involved in the horrific incident. Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott had most certainly deserved the means by which young Harry Potter had prevented them from harming Astoria any further.

After seeing what those boys had done to Ariana - Astoria, he corrected himself - Harry could have been driven to kill them, but he hadn’t. 

And something in Albus Dumbledore almost wished that Harry had... Something which Albus had tried to bury the day his sister Ariana had been killed - whether by his own wand or Gellert’s, he would never know... unless he was brave enough to use the ring hidden in his desk drawer.

**~o0o~**

A little cough from the doorway alerted DMLE Head, Madam Amelia Bones, to the presence of Minister Umbridge. The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement looked up to see the Minister smiling at her insipidly. Amelia’s jaw tightened as hse adjusted her monocle. Dumbledore had warned her of this.

“May I be of assistance Minister?” she inquired coolly.

“I am curious to find out more about the Potter Incident,” Minister Umbridge responded with a voice dripping with honey.

“If you are referring to the _**Malfoy Affair,**_ the full report is available,” Madam Bones said stiffly.

“Quite!” Minister Umbridge replied, “I’ve read it, but I do have some concerns that not all points of view have been adequately addressed.”

Madam Bones arched one eyebrow. “Oh? All the evidence is enclosed, and it is incontrovertible that the crimes of kidnapping, sexual assault, and the attempted rape of a minor were committed by Draco Malfoy - not to mention the attempted murder of Harry Potter and his wife - accompanied by Theodore Nott.”

Minister Umbridge emitted a girlish giggle, and Madam Bones’ blood ran cold.

“Come now, Amelia, boys will be boys. The alleged assaulter is but a child himself. Surely he thought it was just a bit of innocent fun.”

Madam Bones narrowed her eyes.

“Really, _**Dolores?**_ You are aware, are you not, that Warlock Greengrass has pressed full charges, related to both the attack upon Astoria Greengrass last night, and the previous sexual assault of his other daughter, Daphne Greengrass.

“The veritaserum confession, the pensieve examination, the inspection of Mr Malfoy’s illegally purchased wand, Astoria Greengrass’s torn clothing, her physical injuries and emotional trauma - all constitute absolute proof of the converse. Due to the conclusive nature of the evidence, a trial is not warranted.”

Dolores’s smile vanished. She did know that, but had hoped that Madam Bones would see reason when presented politely by someone of higher authority.

“Surely Madam and Warlock Malfoy have something to say about all of this,” Dolores offered, in a chillier tone.

“Oh, Madam Malfoy did indeed, Dolores. Warlock Malfoy was unavailable, and nowhere to be found... But Madam Malfoy demanded that the Senior Malfoy - should he eventually show up - have no access to her son as long as Draco Malfoy resides in Azkaban. It is her hope that someday - after a very lengthy sentence - her son will recognise the error of his ways.”

Dolores was floored. She gaped at the Head of the DMLE in disbelief. That part wasn’t in the report. But it wouldn’t be of course, as such demands by the Madams and Warlocks of the Pureblood Houses were always kept off-record.

But Dolores was very worried. She hadn’t seen Lucius in several days herself, not since the session in the Department of Mysteries. If Madam Malfoy was the only parent available for consultation, she was well within her rights to make such a demand. 

As she had nowhere else to go, Minister Umbridge tried another tack.

“And what of Mr Potter? Surely his own actions - the use of a dark curse to mutilate two children - warrant an investigation.”

“Indeed!” Amelia Bones responded, **_“Warlock_** Potter and his wife immediately volunteered their own testimony under veritaserum, and their own memories for examination by pensieve. And they offered their wands up for inspection.”

“Aurors Shacklebolt, Dawlish, and myself have determined that the spell employed was not subject to Unforgivable Statute - nor was it a curse - and that it was used entirely for defensive purposes. Again, the evidence is sustained as Absolute, and the DMLE will not be pursuing any actions in that regard. Is there anything else you wish to discuss, Dolores?”

Recognising defeat, Minister Dolores Umbridge regarded Madam Bones shrewdly.

“That will be all. Carry on,” Dolores concluded with a return to her girlish demeanor.

As she departed from Madam Bones’ office, Minister Umbridge’s features hardened. Ending the independence of the DMLE from the Office of the Minister had just become a top priority.


	35. Ozma and the Witches of Hogwarts

“Are you alright Harry?” Hermione looked very worried and frightened when he woke up with a start. “Did you have a nightmare about last night?” 

In fact, Hermione was restless with bad dreams of violence and blood herself the night following the attack on Astoria, and had been awake for a while. And Hermione was especially shaken because instead of Astoria, it had been her under Malfoy. 

Hermione couldn’t help but remember the night of the terrorist attack at the World Cup. Malfoy’s horrible comments were still as clear as if it had been yesterday: 

“You wouldn’t want them to find your pet Muggle and have their way with _**her**_ would you? ...” and, “You’d better keep your eye on her Potter. There’s a new order coming... soon they’ll all know their proper place - beneath a pureblood or six feet under...” still echoed in her mind.

“No! It was Voldemort,” Harry replied, his scar prickling. “I’ve actually been having the same ‘dream’ for the last few nights, but it was sort of hazy... This is the first time I can actually remember a bit of it. I think it had to do with Mr Malfoy too - Voldemort was angry with him... I think maybe he tried to kill Malfoy and Malfoy escaped - I’ll tell Dumbledore tomorrow.”

Harry peered at Hermione, who seemed to be terrified about something.

“What about you Hermione?” he asked gently, “Have _**you**_ been having nightmares about last night?”

Hermione looked at Harry, then bit her lip and cast her eyes down, unable to say anything. Tears began trickling down her cheeks and Harry had a bad feeling that she had been dreaming about Draco Malfoy being on top of her.

“Come here Hermione.” He took her in his arms; she began sobbing into his chest and trembling. “It’s alright now Hermione,” he whispered, holding her tightly and kissing her bushy head, “I’m here... I’ve got you...” his own eyes glistening.

**~o0o~**

Harry went straight to Dumbledore in the morning - before breakfast - to relay the information about Voldemort and Mr Malfoy. The headmaster seemed very concerned as he peered at Harry and Hermione over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

“Harry, perhaps you and Mrs Potter should take a few days off to recuperate from the turmoil...”

“It’s alright sir... I think I’d prefer the distraction of classes,” Harry interjected. “How about you Hermione?”

“Yes! I feel exactly the same way Harry.” Hermione nodded, biting her lip.

“Very well,” Dumbledore sighed. “But be sure to see Madam Pomfrey if you begin to experience any more ill effects.”

**~o0o~**

Indeed Harry and Hermione both began feeling ill during breakfast. Harry groaned when he saw the headline blazing across the front page of the morning edition of the _Daily Prophet_. Hermione gasped in horror, her eyes boggling.

**MAYHEM AT HOGWARTS**

by Rita Skeeter

_Does Hogwarts have a new Dark Lord in the making? That is what this sterling reporter set out to discover after rumours of a gruesome occurrence yesterday on the grounds of Hogwarts reached her ears. This attack appears to confirm previous reports about the Dark proclivities of Mr and Mrs Potter._

_Certain Ministry officials - unnamed due to fears of retribution - revealed that a bloodbath unfolded sometime late the night before last, though it is unclear where the dreadful incident took place. All that is certain, is that it was somewhere on Hogwarts grounds, and indicated that the Potters may have a penchant for Blood Rituals._

_According to the unnamed official, Harry James Potter, previously known as the Saviour of the British Wizarding Community, engaged in just such a ritual. Utilizing an unknown Dark Curse surely belonging among the class of Unforgivables, Mr Potter, a man of the age of majority, mutilated two young children in a most horrific manner._

_A healer at St Mungo’s, too terrified to reveal her name, revealed that multiple limbs had been savagely severed from the traumatised victims’ bodies._

_Young Demon Potter’s thirst for blood must surely give the other Champions in the Triwizard Tournament pause to continue. Are the Headmasters of the foreign schools which are participating too frightened to withdraw? Enquiring minds want to know._

 

Despite being unable to eat breakfast due to the churning of their stomachs, Harry and Hermione couldn’t help simply sighing in resignation and slumping in their seats. It would almost be amusing if Hermione hadn’t had such awful nightmares last night.

Dora’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. Then she began to look furious, angrier than Harry or Hermione had ever seen her. 

“That bloody bitch!” Dora fumed. “I swear I could murder her!”

Lavender and Parvati, who had been told by the Potters exactly what had happened, both looked appalled. Luna and Ginny approached the Mingling Table together. Ginny looked almost as enraged as Dora. When Fred and George arrived, Fred began chortling.

“All hail the new Dark Lord!” said Fred, a look of glee on his face. “Bow before his might!”

 _ **“Shut it Fred!”**_ Ginny snapped. George shot Fred a reproachful glare, perhaps for the first time ever. Only Luna appeared to be calm, almost serene.

“It’ll be alright Hermione, Harry,” Luna assured them with a smile. “Wait till you see the _Quibbler_. Daddy wrote a really good article - you’ll see!”

They didn’t have to wait long, soon numerous owls began arriving, dropping free _Quibblers_ on every table. The headline above the fold couldn’t have been more different.

**KIDNAPPING AND ATTEMPTED RAPE FOILED**

**DEATH EATER SCION ARRESTED**

The front page article factually revealed all of the events which had transpired in great detail, and quoted Madam Bones as admiring Harry Potter’s “great restraint in subduing the criminals who had been caught in the act.” Aurors Kingsley Shacklebolt and John Dawlish were cited as praising Harry Potter, and hoping that he would one day consider becoming an Auror himself. 

Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott were named as the criminals. Warlock Greengrass offered his “utmost gratitude for Harry Potter and his wife’s courageous act” in preventing his twelve year old daughter from suffering “a fate worse than death.”

A copy of the DMLE’s full arrest and conviction report was enclosed inside. There were a number of other articles too; including one about a healer at St Mungo’s who had been bribed by a lower-level Ministry Official from the Department of Magical Sanitation to lie to the _Daily Prophet_ , and yet another article detailing corruption in the Ministry and the Wizengamot, and one attacking the credibility of Rita Skeeter. 

There was also a feature on the numerous crimes of Lucius Malfoy and Nott’s father, committed before the end of the last war, to which they had both claimed they had done under the influence of an Imperius Curse. 

As in the previous riposte to the _Daily Prophet’s_ lurid hit piece against Harry and Hermione at the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament, every single article and editorial was hard-hitting, credible journalism at its finest, backed up with named sources. Not a single advert could be found in the _Quibbler_ , nor a single article about oddities or undiscovered creatures. 

Luna whispered proudly in Harry and Hermione’s ears. “You were right... Daddy is working with Dumbledore now!”

A buzz of conversation and argument filled the Great Hall, and many, many more students than after the original challenge to the _Daily Prophet_ seemed to be supporting the _Quibbler’s_ version of events. The rest appeared to be divided between confusion, and support for the _Daily Prophet_. A number of students - mostly muggleborn - grinned at Harry and Hermione, flashing thumbs up at them.

Even Slytherin seemed awkwardly at odds with each other. Many glared malevolently at the Potters, but most of Astoria’s friends and acquaintances in first and second year were engaged in heated arguments with the older Slytherins. 

Most of the Slytherins in fourth year and above registered shock and anger when Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson left the Slytherin table and made their way to the Mingling Table. Cries of Blood-Traitor and other choice insults could be heard over the noisy hubbub in the rest of the Great Hall.

Needless to say, the Potters’ and their friends’ jaws dropped in surprise as Pansy and Blaise approached the Mingling Table. Pansy Parkinson looked at her feet, shame-faced when she reached the table.

“Erm... I... I’m _**so**_ s...sorry,” she stammered, addressing the Potters, trembling as tears trickled down her reddening cheeks. “I... I’ve always been so ho...horrible to you both. B...but you didn’t even seem to care that I had been so mean to you and that I was a Slytherin when you saw me with Daphne when Daphne asked you to save Astoria.

“And you didn’t even stop to think about it, you just went and saved Astoria, and ... and, Daphne told me how you'd saved her from Draco too. It... er... it's made me rethink a lot of things about... er... everything. Anyway, I... I just want you to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done... and how much I hate Draco now! I kn...know it’s not enough just to say that, and I... I would understand if you hate me and don’t believe me...”

“Er... of course we believe you!” said Harry. “After what you did for Daphne - sticking your neck out for her and Astoria? ... It was very brave... I'd say it was almost Gryffindor of you.” he concluded cheekily. Harry felt cheered when he heard Pansy's sniffles broken by a teary giggle.”

“Anyway you’re welcome to join us.” Hermione smiled at Pansy, beckoning her to sit down. 

Harry grinned at Zabini - somehow intuiting what he was about to say - and gestured towards an empty seat. Blaise sort of smirked a bit at the Potters, but not in a nasty way. If anything, he looked very embarrassed.

“I’m glad you put that filthy little knob in Azkaban,” said Blaise, shaking Harry's hand. “It was nauseating pretending to be Malfoy’s friend...”

That afternoon, Harry and Hermione passed through the secret passage under the Whomping Willow, and paid a visit to the Shrieking Shack. They were stunned when they looked around after Sirius let them in. 

The interior had been completely redone and they no longer worried about possibly putting their foot through a rotting floorboard. Sirius was as bright and cheerful as the decor.

“Remus’s touch,” Sirius smirked. “I would’ve been just as pleased if everything was painted red and gold.”

Remus snorted with mirth and rolled his eyes. “Yes, well... I see no reason to decorate our place like the Gryffindor Common Room.”

“Anyway, I’m very pleased you both came to visit,” said Sirius. “I just wanted to say how proud I am of you both...”

“Would you like to stay for Tea?” asked Remus. “I was just about to make some sandwiches, and put on a kettle.”

“Er... sure,” Harry replied with a grin.

“That sounds lovely,” Hermione beamed. 

Remus and Sirius both commiserated with the Potters about Rita Skeeter’s article as they ate and sipped their tea.

“Pay no attention to that Hag... er... Hack!” Sirius pretended it was just a Freudian slip as they all groaned and laughed. “She wouldn’t know the truth if it bit her on the arse.” 

“Well, for my part,” said Remus, “I couldn’t be more pleased that Xeno Lovegood is on board. It’s nice for the Order to finally have someone like him to counter the Daily Prophet’s rubbish...”

**~o0o~**

Professor Moody had seemed to have the same notion as Dumbledore. He had given the Potters space over the days following the attack on Astoria. But as with classes, exercise had proved to be a welcome distraction from Harry and Hermione’s darker mood, and they had decided to take a nice jog by the Black Lake.

Being away from the bustle of the castle, in the bright sunshine and fresh spring breeze, their agitation began to settle, and they almost forgot about the horrible nightmares. There were only a few clouds in the sky, and a pair of swans followed by their cygnets drifted by on the shimmering surface of the lake.

But their reverie was not as lasting as they had hoped when they spied two familiar looking figures up ahead. McLaggen and Towler seemed to be grinning and leering at something on the other side of the bushes. Harry had a bad feeling about this, and his stomach clenched. But he was less willing than he might have been to simply barge in without thinking things through. And this time he took Hermione’s words to heart.

Harry motioned Hermione to approach with caution, and was surprised to see her bristling. She looked like she was about to march right over and give the two burly fifth and sixth year Gryffindors a piece of her mind. The scowl on her face deepened as they drew nearer to Towler and McLaggen. She was beginning to look as irate as she ever had been at her angriest. 

Perhaps her hearing was just better than Harry’s; his jaw tightened when he began to make out bits of Towler and McLaggen’s hushed conversation.

“Just look at those two,” said McLaggen, “They’re really going at it.”

“Yeah...” Towler sniggered. “Who would’a thought that those little bints were a pair of muff divers?”

“Lovegood probably gave up on guys after mucking about with that fairy squib, Longbottom,” chortled McLaggen. “...And Thomas - he’s all talk, no action. Maybe those slags both need a _**real**_ man to show them a good time,” he said, grabbing at his crotch. 

Cautiously, Harry peeked through the gaps in the bushes to see what Towler and McLaggen were on about as Hermione peered over his shoulder. Harry’s eyes widened with surprise when he spotted Luna and Ginny lying on a mossy bit of ground, snogging like there was no tomorrow. He suddenly understood what they had been doing when he had spotted them in the Three Broomsticks the other day.

Hermione’s anger was really making sense. Harry began to see red when he realised that McLaggen and Towler seemed intent on forcing themselves on Luna and Ginny. Harry couldn’t believe this was happening again, just days after he had dealt with Malfoy. Throwing caution to the wind, Harry stepped around the bushes and purposefully drew their attention.

“Oi... McLaggen,” he said loudly, “What d’you two think you’re doing?”

McLaggen spun around and smirked. 

“Well, if it isn’t the little Harem Lord himself,” McLaggen chortled. “Don’t be greedy Potter... Care to share the wealth? We won’t use them too much... promise! They’ll still be tight enough when we’re done with them.”

“You’re utterly _**revolting!”**_ Hermione snarled.

“...And a real bloody idiot!” said Harry, more nonchalantly than he felt. “What say I give these two a taste of what I gave Malfoy, Hermione?”

“Malfoy? You must be joking Potty!” laughed McLaggen. “That little Princess can’t do anything without his daddy holding his hand!”

“Go ahead McLaggen... try me!” Harry’s face darkened as he reached for his wand. Hermione suddenly looked scared.

“Harry, what are you doing?”

“I think I’m going to give this fool a little demonstration, Hermione.” Then Harry returned his attention to McLaggen. “You know McLaggen, you’re even stupider than Malfoy! Maybe I should take your hand too...”

That seemed to do the trick... at least as far as Towler was concerned. Towler paled, took a few steps back, and gulped nervously.

“Hey... Cormac, maybe we should just leave it!”

 _ **“What?**_ And let this attention-seeking pipsqueak push us around? ... So what if he stared at a dragon - it’s not like he actually fought it. And Malfoy couldn’t fight his way out of a wet paper bag! Come on Potty... show us what you’ve got!”

Harry stood his ground as his fury began to rise, nostrils flaring, but he didn’t say a word. He was used to playground taunts, and he wasn’t about to take the bait. Harry simply gave the large muscle-bound oaf a hard stare.

McLaggen must have spotted the dangerous look in Harry’s eyes though, because he seemed to have a change of heart. 

“You’re right Ken...” McLaggen scowled. “I don’t need to prove anything to Potty...” His sneer was as magnificent as Malfoy’s. “I could take him on anytime... Let’s go!”

Harry let out a sigh of relief as McLaggen and Towler stalked away. He glanced at Hermione, ashamed of having frightened her.

“Sorry Hermione - I wasn’t going to do anything unless he started something... I promise!”

“Don’t be sorry Harry!” Ginny emerged from the bushes, holding Luna’s hand. They were both trembling; but Ginny’s eyes had a look which promised vengeance, much the same as the look she had given the Slytherins the day that Skeeter’s Harem article had come out.

“She’s right Harry...” Luna smiled. “Don’t ever be sorry for standing up to bullies!”

“I agree a hundred percent!” said Hermione, her scared look replaced with one of pride in her husband. “I just don’t like fights.” 

Hemione was in fact very pleased that once again Harry had proved that he was more than capable of letting his retorts do the job when the enemy was just spouting hot air. And that once again Harry had proved that he would never back down when defending others from bullies and creeps. 

Dora, who had been shadowing the Potters, was just grateful that they hadn’t had a repeat of the other night. At least this time they had managed to arrive in time to prevent any potential nastiness.

**~o0o~**

Minister Umbridge walked through the ashes of Lucius Malfoy’s estate, her jaw set with anger, while Unspeakables combed through the rubble looking for any evidence of human remains. It was clearly the work of Voldemort. She had to keep this quiet for now, lest she lose the support of the Death Eaters in the Wizengamot. She looked up when the lead Unspeakable of the Operations Investigation Unit approached her.

“There’s no sign of Warlock Malfoy Ma’am. The evidence suggests that he escaped. There are some indications of portkey activity, and apparition.”

Minister Umbridge breathed a sigh of relief. Lucius was alive, but possibly injured, or he would surely have apparated to the Ministry. And he must have lost his wand, as he could have healed the worst of his injury and found a way to send a message by now. 

That meant that he was probably still injured and traveling by foot as it was unlikely that he would seek out muggle transportation or muggle medical attention. It was probable that Lucius would attempt to locate a wizard tavern with a public floo port. 

Another Unspeakable approached. “Ma’am, we’ve found traces of Warlock Malfoy’s blood just outside the borders of his estate. But there’s no body.”

“Very good!” The Minister nodded brusquely; she was pleased at the confirmation of her supposition. “Start a search then... Notify me immediately when you have found him, and have the Operations Medical Unit see to his injuries. He is not to be admitted to St Mungo’s.”

“Of course Ma’am.” The Unspeakable was well aware of the need for secrecy.

The Minister apparated back to London and accessed the Ministry through her private entrance. She hoped that there had been some movement on the other major task assigned to Operations. Just as she was about to have one of the Ministry house-elves bring her a pot of tea, Rookwood entered her office with a sinister smile on his face.

“Good news Chief! One of our undercover operatives in Newport was approached and offered a position as a Snatcher... We have him!”

The Minister’s eyes lit up. _**“Avery?**_ You have him? ... Really?”

Rookwood nodded, grinning. “Yes! And we’ve got the Interrogation Chamber all ready to go.”

“Excellent!” The Minister practically cackled with glee. This was a major break, and would be a serious blow to Voldemort, given how few top lieutenants he had. “I’ll be there shortly after I’ve had a cup of tea.” Then she remembered another task she had set for herself today.

“On second thought, Rookwood, put him in a cell for now... Withhold food and water from him, and keep him awake with loud noises to soften him up! The interrogation can wait for a day or so.” 

After her second in command of Operations had departed, Chief Umbridge put her Minister hat back on and sent a memo to Percy Weasley. It was time for his promotion to Senior Undersecretary...

**~o0o~**

“Excellent Potter!” Professor Moody nodded with approval. “I’ve had a look at the pensieve recordings of your memories, and the way you handled the Malfoy and Nott boys was brilliant. It’s not many fourth years who can perform nonverbal spells. Same goes for you Mrs Potter.”

“Er... nonverbal spells?” Harry was perplexed. He glanced at Hermione, who looked surprised. 

Hermione was stunned. She hadn’t really thought about it before, but she and Harry - especially Harry - had been performing a number of spells nonverbally for some time now. Dora’s eyes widened and she peered at the Potters with wonderment.

“It means performing spells without speaking the incantation, Potter,” Moody answered with an ugly grin, looking very impressed. “It’s a powerful advantage in a fight - it keeps the enemy on their toes - they’ll never know what’s comin’ next, or when. Flitwick’ll be so happy that he’ll throw a party for you when he finds out.”

“Really?” Harry’s eyes widened in astonishment. “I... er... I thought it was normal. I thought everyone did it. I just sort of forget about the incantation when I’m... erm... when I’m in a fight. It just sort of happens. I did it a lot during the Second Task... Hermione too.”

“Usually most folk have to _**learn**_ how to forget about it Potter, and it’s not even taught until sixth year. It’s a sign of how strong your Intent is that you and your missus can do it already.”

“That’s _**brilliant**_ Harry! I really hadn’t even noticed until Professor Moody pointed it out.” Hermione was thrilled. She almost threw her arms around Harry for a kiss, but restrained herself in front of Moody and Dora.

“Anyway, it’s nearly time for the rest of your team to show up fer trainin’ - so fall in and start doin’ some calisthenics until they get here.” 

Fleur, Viktor, and Cedric were awed by the Room of Requirement, as were the others when they arrived. The only one missing was Daphne as she wasn’t back yet, and probably wouldn’t be for a few days. Harry and Hermione both sadly assumed that she still needed time to be with her sister. But training otherwise went very well. 

The older Champions were more prepared for the spell-work, but weren’t quite up to snuff on the physical end of things. Professor Moody chuckled as he put them through their paces. Meanwhile, Dora was hard at work training Luna, Ginny, Parvati, and Lavender. They were all groaning and sweaty, sprawled out on the mat at the end of the first session.

The following day, they all met after classes to discuss what they might be facing for the Third Task. Surprisingly - or perhaps not given the Lovegood penchant for magical creatures - Luna was already prepared with a list her father had given her.

As it was teatime, the group of Champions, the Potters’ friends, and Dora all gathered under a willow near the Black Lake, eating cucumber sandwiches and salt and vinegar crisps. When they had finished, Harry began the conversation.

“We all know by now that we’ll be contending with a maze, but other than swarms of Acromantulas and Skrewts, we really have no idea what we’re dealing with...”

Then Luna pulled a number of parchments out of her robes.

“There’s one for each of you,” said Luna, “It’s the list of creatures Daddy thinks the Ministry might add to the task. He said some might be more likely than others, but it’s probably best to prepare for them all.”

Hermione gasped in shock as she glanced at the list. Harry’s stomach tightened. They had both been expecting the worst, but it was another thing altogether to see a list of the most dangerous creatures that the Champions were likely to face. It all became suddenly more real. Dora’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.

“A Manticore... surely not!” Hermione muttered angrily. “They’re incredibly violent.”

“I dunno Hermione. According to Hagrid and Dumbledore, the Triwizard Commission procured one to mate with a Fire Crab and gave Hagrid the Skrewt Eggs to raise.”

Fleur paled as she read her copy of the list.

“A Gorgon...?” she gasped, “Ees your father serious Luna?”

“Absolutely,” Luna nodded, “After what happened to Harry in the Black Lake with the Kappa, and to him and Hermione with the Merpeople, he thinks you should be prepared for the worst.”

Parvati peered at her copy to see what Harry might have to deal with. She shuddered in fright at the idea of an Egyptian Mummy - or several - possibly running loose on the Hogwarts grounds. Viktor and Cedric both grimaced as they read their copies. Lavender and Ginny were equally appalled.

Harry sighed in resignation when he discerned Chimaera on Mr Lovegood’s list. It was surely more likely than a Sphinx. Harry was beginning to doubt that the Minister would have something as easy to deal with as a cryptic but relatively benevolent Sphinx in the mix. Harry thought Mr Lovegood was probably quite right to consider that the Minister would most likely choose those creatures most capable of murder to throw at the champions.

“I suppose we should be thankful there isn’t a Cockatrice on the list,” Hermione snorted sarcastically. “Mr Lovegood is probably correct to assume that the Minister wouldn’t employ the creature that got the Tournament canceled to begin with.”

Luna was scared for her friends, but she was quite pleased that everyone was taking her father seriously.

“Well, Hermione,” Harry sighed again, but then he couldn‘t help grinning her, “looks like we’ll have to cancel our date and spend it in the library.”

“Prat!” Hermione glowered in mock indignation, and she poked Harry in the ribs, before returning Harry’s grin. They had both learned in recent months that their mutual study sessions could be quite stimulating in more ways than one.

“Anyway,” said Hermione, “you’ll still have obstacles to deal with as well, and there is no way that we can predict what the Ministry has planned in that regard.”

The Champions eventually resigned themselves to facing some of the most dangerous creatures that existed, and began to return to the castle. Luna and Ginny went to look for a quiet place to hang out together. As Dora made to follow the Potters back, Fleur approached her with a beseeching look in her eye. 

“A moment please, Tonks...” 

“Er... Yeah, alright.” Dora turned pink and began to look as flustered as she always did when Fleur was nearby. She turned and beckoned the Potters, “Harry, Hermione... I’ll just be a minute, okay.”

“Sure Dora,” said Harry, glancing at Hermione who nodded. “We’ll just wait over by the tree then.”

Dora returned her attention to Fleur, who appeared to be batting her silvery eyelashes coquettishly, but looking strangely nervous as well.

“Tonks, I was... ‘ow do you say?... Oh, oui, I was wondering, per’aps... er... per’aps you might like to ‘ave a date wiz me?”

Dora goggled in surprise. She didn’t know how she could be so lucky. Dora had dreamed of it, but she never could have worked up the nerve to ask. Fleur could have her pick of guys - or the right sort of girls - but _Fleur_ was asking _Dora_ for a date. 

“Er... you sure about that? _Me?”_ asked Dora, still not quite believing it was happening.

“Oui, ze boys here at ‘Ogwarts, in zem I am not so interested, or they are too young, or zey have girlfriends - An’ ze girls, there are not so many who like ozzer girls - An’ I must confess, I very much like your hair.”

“Er... yeah! I’d really like that Fleur!” Dora couldn’t help but have a big soppy grin on her face. “Er... but if we’re really goin’ on a date, you really ought t’call me Dora.”

**~o0o~**

“That’s brilliant!” said Harry, grinning as he and Hermione got ready for bed. “You were right Hermione - Fleur’s into girls as well.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry’s silly expression.“ Well I think it’s really nice that Dora has finally found someone she really likes to go out with.”

“Yeah, of course Hermione,” Harry quickly agreed. “You know I’m perfectly alright with it. I think it’s nice that Ginny and Luna like each other too.”

“I know Harry,” said Hermione, “It’s just that you always have such a goofy expression when we talk about that sort of thing.”

Harry reddened and his face started to feel hot. He had to admit, he rather liked the fact that some girls liked other girls. And as Hermione had indicated that she would be willing to help Harry with the only thing as a metamorphmagus that he had yet to master, he had rather hoped that he and Hermione could have a bit of fun together when he finally did. 

And he also had to admit, the way everyone who knew his parents went on about him having his mum’s eyes, he was beginning to think that might mean something.

Hermione was puzzled as to why Harry seemed so embarrassed. Then it suddenly hit her why Harry was so interested in being able to change into a girl completely. Her eyes widened and she giggled, biting her lip.

“Alright Harry, I think I understand,” said Hermione. She grinned and had a look on her face that was almost as goofy as Harry’s. “Come on then, it’s time for bed.”

“Erm... Hang on!” said Harry. “I just want to get a book out of my trunk. I feel like reading for a bit.”

“What’s it still doing in your trunk Harry?” Hermione asked, her curiosity getting the best of her. “Shouldn’t it be on the bookshelf?”

“I bought a few of the Oz books in London when we were staying at Number Twelve before the World Cup, and put them in my trunk... Then with everything that’s been going on, I just sort of forgot about them.”

“You mean there’s more than one Oz book?” Hermione asked, surprised.

“Yeah, loads more.”

“Oh... I’ve only read _The Wizard of Oz_ \- I didn’t know there were more,” said Hermione a bit sheepishly, turning pink with embarrassment.

Harry grinned at the oddness of having read some books that Hermione hadn’t. “I found some in my primary school library. I managed to read about five of them before Uncle Vernon made me take them back to school when he caught me reading them...”

“The only reason I didn’t know was because I mostly grew up reading the ‘literary classics’ and lots of non-fiction,” said Hermione. “Though Mum and Dad did get me some children’s storybooks too, but mostly just British ones. I’m more familiar with books by Enid Blyton and Roald Dahl and _The Hobbit_ of course, and _The Chronicles of Narnia_...”

“Oh yeah - I loved those,” said Harry, his eyes shining. “I managed to read all of the Narnia books without getting caught... Dudley did have a few children’s books with fairy-tales in, but he’d never read them. I dunno why they even got them for him. 

“I suppose the Dursleys never thought I’d find them in his second bedroom and read them. I’ve always liked reading actually... though mostly just any storybooks I could manage to read before the Dursleys caught me out. Funnily enough, my favourite ones usually had wizards or magic in them.

“Here let’s try this one then - it’s one of my favourite Oz books - _The Marvelous Land of Oz_ \- it’s about Ozma of Oz... I’ll read it to you.” 

As they settled in, Hermione snuggled under Harry’s arm, her head on his shoulder, and an arm across his chest, sighing happily as Harry began to read to her. Finally Harry put the book down after reading a few chapters.

They lay there for a while in silence, letting the peace wash over them. Hermione felt really good; it was nice to forget all the horrible things they’d had to deal with lately. 

After a bit, Harry’s mind began to roam, and some thoughts popped up, unbidden.

“I wonder how everyone’s getting along at Number Twelve,” he murmured. 

“Well, I... I’m a bit concerned about Mum and your Aunt Petunia being under the same roof together to be honest.”

“Really? Why?” Harry asked, perplex crossing his features.

Hermione blushed, smiling bashfully.“Mum’s grown quite attached to you Harry. I don’t think she’ll be very happy with Petunia for how horribly she treated you all those years, and for letting Vernon and Dudley hurt you.”

“Oh, I... er... I didn’t think about that.” Harry sighed. “Are you sure? I mean, after... you know... your dad. Maybe your mum will understand after what Uncle Vernon did to Aunt Petunia...”

“Maybe... I really hope so Harry.” Hermione yawned sleepily.

“Yeah! Me too.” Harry felt the onset of approaching slumber as well. “I think it’ll all work out just fine Hermione,” he murmured as they both drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gold star to the first person who can tell me what the plot of _The Marvelous Land of Oz_ (AKA _The Land of Oz_ ) is.
> 
> An extra gold star to the first person who can tell me what the relevance of _The Marvelous Land of Oz_ is to this chapter (who is in the role of Ozma and why).


	36. The Gathering Storm

Albus Dumbledore felt freer and lighter on his toes that morning than he had in many, many decades. It was still early yet, but there was a slight lilt in his step as he climbed the stairs to his office for a quiet pre-breakfast cup of tea. He squeezed a bit of lemon into his steaming cup of Earl Grey and stirred in a single spoon of honey. He sighed with some contentment after taking a sip.

Soon Albus was swirling dregs in his cup and chuckling as he imagined what Sybil Trelawny would see in his tea-leaves. Albus set his cup gently in the saucer and opened his desk drawer, touching the glass on the sepia picture of his sister Ariana with a bittersweet sigh. Picking up the cool gold ring inset with the cracked Resurrection Stone, he turned it over and over again in the palm of his hand.

He had no need of it anymore.

Last night Albus had finally been brave enough to use it. Ariana had forgiven Albus, and assured him that it was Gellert’s wand which had killed her when she had taken a killing curse aimed at her brother. Now Albus’s biggest regret was that he had let Gellert live.

Albus considered what he should do with the ring. If anyone deserved it, it was Harry Potter. Harry, who had grown up without his parents would surely want to speak with them, if only to meet with them and say goodbye properly - putting the ghosts of his past to rest. 

The only question was the timing. There was so much uncertainty - the future shrouded in mystery like never before.

**~o0o~**

It was early Sunday morning, shortly after breakfast; Hermione huffed and puffed as she hauled the heavy pile of books and dumped them on the library table. Harry looked up from the book he was reading, startled by her sudden appearance. He boggled at the sight of all the books.

“Blimey Hermione! What are all those?”

Hermione grinned at the shocked look on Harry’s face. 

“Research for the Third Task of course,” she responded breezily. “Here, this lot are for you... I’ll start on these others.” 

Harry peered at the first book on the top of his pile, which looked like a book chock-full of Greek symbols. Then he glanced at the second book which featured Ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphs. It suddenly struck him what they were for.

“Er...” he began. Seeing his hesitation, Hermione jumped right in excitedly, her words spilling out in a hot rush.

“You’re the best calligrapher by far Harry! ... These won’t work half as well in the hands of others. Don’t worry, I’ll help with the translating and choosing the most useful ones of course, but I thought you should get a head-start on those and practice drawing and painting in those styles while I look through these other books. 

“They’re quite different from Norse Runes, so you’ll need all the practice you can get. Meanwhile I’ll be researching to see which ones might work against some of the creatures you might be facing...”

Hermione trailed off when she saw Harry grinning at her. 

“That’s brilliant Hermione! I knew I married you for a good reason...”

“Oh shut up!” she said, blushing as she turned around and marched off to look for more books.

**~o0o~**

Lucius staggered as he strolled along the roadside, the hot sun beating down on him - even as early in the morning as it was. He had bound his arm as best he could, but he had still lost a lot of blood. And he had been slowly making his way south, mostly at night.

If he could only make it to Salisbury, he knew that there was a wizard pub there with a public floo port. But it was at least still five kilometres due south, if the muggle road signs were any indication. 

Several muggles in passing vehicles had offered him assistance, but Lucius scowled and waved them on. It was bad enough that he had been forced by circumstances to utilise the muggle roadways and maps, he was hardly going to accept help from inferior beings. 

He sighed when he spotted several people approaching, wondering if he should cross the road so that he didn’t have to pass by the muggles so closely. Lucius stiffened, his nostrils flaring when one of them pointed at him. Gritting his teeth and narrowing his eyes, he wished that he had his wand so he could teach them some manners.

But as a wave of dizziness came over him, Lucius could hear one of them calling his name. Why would a muggle be calling his name? As he began to black out and topple over, he could just make out one of the muggles saying, “Warlock Malfoy, are you alright?”

When Lucius finally came to, he saw pink. Pink everywhere. Pink curtains, pink bedcovers, pink shag carpets, and pink pinstriped walls. When he spied some pink kitten plates on a Welsh dresser, it finally occurred to him that he must be in Dolores’s home. He groaned and his head spun as he tried to sit up.

“Ah, Lucius you’re awake - splendid! Don’t get up,” said Dolores. “Your arm has been healed, but you still lost a lot of blood, and the blood replenishing potion still has some work to do yet. I’ll get you a pot of tea - sorry I don’t have any house-elves, so I’ll have to get it myself...”

“My estate...”

“Completely gone... Fiendfyre. You won’t be able to rebuild it with magic I’m afraid.”

“Damn!” Lucius groaned. “I expected as much. But I had hoped...”

Dolores nodded, a sympathetic expression on her face. She exited the room and was back moments later with a pot of tea, two teacups, a small jug of cream, and a bowl of sugarcubes. 

“One lump or two?” Dolores asked.

“Pardon?”

“Sugarcubes...” Dolores replied. “I usually have three or four, but most don’t have as much of a sweet tooth as myself. I can also add a splash of brandy if you’d like.”

“I think I’ll just take the brandy, no sugarcubes,” Lucius said with a hint of a wry smile.

Dolores smiled broadly. “Of course, Lucius.”

As Lucius sipped his brandy, Dolores’s features hardened, and her voice took on a steely tone.

“We have much to discuss Lucius,” she began. “When you’re feeling a bit better, you should make a public appearance at the Ministry before people begin asking too many questions. But in the meantime, you ought to know two things. For one, we have Avery...”

Lucius’s eyebrows popped up, “That is some good news! Any actionable intelligence?”

“Not much I’m afraid,” sighed Dolores. “It would appear that Voldemort is keeping his location very close to the vest. It seems that only Wormtail bears the responsibility of Secret Keeping...”

Lucius snorted, nearly shooting his brandy out through his nose at the irony of the situation. He couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head. 

“Quite!” remarked Dolores dryly, “In any case, we were able to extract the knowledge from Avery that Crabbe and Goyle are seeking out giants, and that MacNair is building up an army of mountain trolls. But that really isn’t the most important news... I’m afraid that your son is in Azkaban...”

 **“WHAT?”** Lucius bolted right up into a sitting position, nearly spilling his brandy all over the bedclothes. “How the hell did that happen?”

“He kidnapped and more or less raped Astoria Greengrass, and was caught in the act by Harry Potter... Amelia Bones had Draco convicted and sent to Azkaban before I even learned of the occurrence.” 

Lucius groaned and drained his brandy snifter. He grabbed the bottle of brandy, refilled the goblet and drained it again.

“I suppose it could have been worse - you are most fortunate that Mr Potter shares Dumbledore’s soft touch and reticence for killing...” said Dolores. “He only took Draco’s hand.”

Lucius nodded, sighing. He knew that he was very lucky that Draco was still alive. Lucius would have murdered anyone who touched so much as a single hair on Draco’s head. Still... it was only a girl, and Greengrass’s girl at that. Draco’s only mistake was not paying Warlock Greengrass for the girl. Not that the blood-traitor deserved payment, but Greengrass had a lot of friends. 

It did surprise him though that Potter - a Gryffindor through and through - had been the one to come to a Slytherins’ rescue.

Dolores waited a moment for Lucius to process the information before continuing.

“Unfortunately, Draco was parted too long from his hand for it to be reattached. But the DoM’s Research and Development division is working on something right now that could suffice, should it become operational. And not to worry Lucius, I shall have Draco released as soon as possible of course... but it shall have to be done surreptitiously while Amelia is still in charge of the DMLE.

“And when I do release him, Draco will have to remain isolated for the time-being lest anyone discover that he is missing from Azkaban... But only until I have removed Amelia from office, and solidified our faction in the Wizengamot - which as we have discussed, we should be able to manage by the end of the summer...”

“Yes... yes I quite agree, Dolores.” Lucius nodded; what Dolores suggested only made sense while the politics of the situation were still unsettled.

“In the meantime,” Dolores went on, “I insist that you and Draco remain here until we can find you more suitable lodgings for a man of your station. Despite the lack of house-elves, it is quite comfortable here, I assure you.”

“Thank you Dolores,” Lucius nodded again. “That is most generous of you. I accept your kind offer...”

**~o0o~**

Dipping his quill in the inkwell, Harry began to cheerfully and meticulously practice copying the sets of symbols he found in the books Hermione had given him, while she continued to research, sitting right beside him. They had been at it for several hours when someone else entered the library - which was highly unusual on Sunday mornings.

Hermione looked up when she heard the door open and bit her lip when she saw that it was Parvati with Daphne in tow. Harry noticed that Hermione was distracted, not having heard the door open himself as focused as he had been.

The moment Daphne saw the Potters she flung herself on both of them and burst into tears. Harry barely managed to put his quill down before the ink could go flying everywhere. Thankfully, Madam Pince was napping in her office as she knew that Sundays were usually slow. 

Harry and Hermione both held on to Daphne quietly, just letting her cry while Parvati sat nearby and kept watch, her own eyes brimming with tears. After Daphne’s sobs subsided, she hiccuped and sat herself down in a library chair. She dabbed at the tears on her cheeks with a hanky and smiled wanly at the Potters.

“Sorry about that!” said Daphne shyly. “I didn’t mean to cry all over you.”

“It’s alright Daphne...” Hermione smiled sympathetically. “We quite understand.”

Harry nodded. “You can cry all over us any time you like Daphne.”

“It... it’s just... I don’t know what I’d do without Astoria.” Daphne bit her lip, trying hard not to cry again. “She’s my best friend... or was until I came to Hogwarts. It was really hard, missing her so much until she finally came to Hogwarts too...

“I’m going to miss her all over again, now that Mum and Dad are going to look after her at home - she’s still really fragile, and might be for a long time - But at least I got a chance to be with her for a few days... Th...thank you both so much for rescuing her.”

“Why don’t we all go back to our quarters for Tea,” Hermione suggested when she saw that Daphne looked like she might start crying again,

“Oh... ta Hermione,” Daphne nodded gratefully.

“You coming too Parvati?” asked Harry.

“Er... Yeah... That would be lovely,” said Parvati awkwardly, biting her lip as she regarded Daphne sadly. Parvati couldn’t imagine how awful she would feel if something that dreadful had happened to Padma.

Once back in the Potters’ chambers, Dobby brought them all a Teatime spread with finger sandwiches, mini-cakes, and a pot of tea. Daphne picked at her food while the rest of them ate. 

Hermione rather thought that perhaps Daphne needed something a bit more cheering than tea. She went to the little kitchen to make some cocoa, but she slipped out of their quarters and didn’t return until five minutes later.

“I just spoke to Moody,” Hermione said quietly as she passed everyone steaming mugs of cocoa upon her return, “He said it’s alright if we skip training today.”

Harry looked at Hermione gratefully and visibly relaxed. Parvati and the Potters spent the rest of the afternoon comforting Daphne on the settee in front of the fireplace until she finally dozed off peacefully.

**~o0o~**

The Dark Lord cursed that he should have so many incompetents among his followers... First Crouch, now Avery. Wormtail was the only one the Dark Lord trusted to not fail him.

Avery was a dead loss. The Dark Witch could have the fool - she would no doubt dole out the punishment that Avery so richly deserved. Voldemort was only displeased that he could not be the one to torture Avery himself. Still, the Dark Lord had Nott. He would have to suffer in Avery’s stead.

Voldemort stroked his chin pensively as he pondered his plans while Wormtail enjoyed a well-deserved respite in the basement toying with the captive daughter of the dead muggle bank manager who had owned the opulent manor they now resided in.

The ranks of the Snatchers were growing. MacNair had captured and enslaved more than enough Mountain Trolls for the moment - he could be the one to oversee the recruitment efforts now. And Fenrir Greyback had convinced another Lycan clan to join them. 

Crabbe and Goyle had sent back messages that their efforts recruiting Giants was proceeding even more successfully than they had hoped. It would take some time to travel undercover, but they should be back soon enough.

The Dark Lord considered seeking out some Vampires, but decided against it. The majority of Vampires remained aloof and were entirely too self-serving to serve Voldemort. They believed highly in their own superiority over wizards. 

The only real question was who the Dementors would serve. The Dark Witch had as much to offer them as the Dark Lord did himself. Their loyalties could be divided. Voldemort could at best hope to sway half their numbers to join him. He supposed that would have to suffice.

In any case, the Trolls and Giants were impervious to the effects of Dementors. If Voldemort could not win enough Dementors over to his own cause, then the Creatures under the Dark Lord’s command would prove far more efficacious than lesser-wizards and werewolves in the assault upon Azkaban.

The Dark Lord was satisfied that everything was proceeding according to plan. By the first day of summer, Azkaban would belong to Voldemort, and with Bellatrix at his side - whose skills at necromancy were unsurpassed - the Dark Lord could raise his Army of the Dead.

What to do next was the Dark Lord’s biggest quandary. Should he seek to raid the Ministry first and locate the recording of the Prophecy? Or would his resources be better spent taking Hogwarts as a base from which to operate, during the summer when it would be empty? 

It seemed a desperate chance to seek out the Prophecy, merely to hear the second part which had eluded him. If the incursion into the Ministry failed, it would be resources wasted. And what did it truly matter? The Dark Lord instinctively knew that he had to be the one to defeat Potter or die trying - he and the boy were linked by Destiny - and the Dark Lord’s own death was an impossibility...

**~o0o~**

The Minister entered the Department of Mysteries, satisfied that all would be well with Lucius Malfoy and his son. She knew that she would have to act fast to recover Draco, before Voldemort took Azkaban for himself. As far as she was concerned, he could have it. It would be a waste of resources to try and defend Azkaban.

The Minister was certain that she would be able to persuade enough Dementors to remain in the Ministry’s employ, as long as they were offered greater access to human souls. No doubt many Dementors would also flock to Voldemort’s side, but it seemed likely that the split would be more or less even.

In any case, it was far more important to shore up the defences of the Ministry and develop weapons which would be effective in the war that she knew was coming. She at least needed to be able to match Voldemort’s efforts. She wouldn’t have giants of course, but they were unruly and unpredictable anyway. But one thing that Voldemort would be sure to employ was necromancy.

Inferi were difficult to create, but easy to control by those who had created them. And Voldemort could be depended upon to create an Army of the Dead - he was all too predictable. But that gave her an idea - a deliciously splendid idea. And the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament could prove to be the perfect testing ground.

An Unspeakable nodded at the Minister as she entered Operations Headquarters. “Afternoon, Chief...” 

“I’ll be in my office,” the Chief replied, taking off her Minister Hat. “I am not to be disturbed. The Senior Undersecretary has the Ministry well in hand.”

“Yes, Ma’am... got it!”

As she settled behind the desk in her office, the Chief wondered what to do about the end of the Third Task if Potter survived. She had yet to come up with a satisfactory plan. Still, it seemed unlikely that Potter would be able to deploy Dumbledore’s secret weapon again; even assuming that Potter managed to sneak the weapon into the maze, the boy would no doubt be in a weakened state and have too much else to contend with.

She sighed, hoping that this time - if she had enough units and Voldemort hadn’t taken them already - they would be successful. And if not, there were always more direct methods - the Chief was simply reticent to openly show her hand just yet...

**~o0o~**

Percy Weasley chortled gleefully as he sat behind his new desk, not caring that he was in the office Sunday afternoon. It was his office now. He ran his fingers over the embossed surface of the golden name-plate on the desk and reveled in his new title. Senior Undersecretary Weasley still had such a nice ring to it, even after repeating it like a mantra to himself for the thousandth time since he’d been promoted.

He was now only one step away from the top job itself. Percy knew that most Ministers were promoted out of the DMLE, but Fudge hadn’t been, and Percy knew that he would make a far better Minister than Fudge. And Minister Umbridge had all but promised that one day he would take her place.

Senior Undersecretary Weasley considered how he had made it this far. It had been more than apparent when he had first arrived at the Ministry under the employ of Crouch, that the Weasley name was Mud. And Percy had quickly come to understand why. It was his father’s obsession with promoting the welfare of muggles and muggleborn that had kept him from advancing in the Ministry. 

And it was abundantly clear from the start that many of the people who mattered at the Ministry deemed the Weasleys far too close to Dumbledore and Potter, who were also champions of lesser wizards and muggles. Minister Umbridge herself - a delightful and dedicated woman - had made her feelings on the topic quite clear. 

So Percy had taken great pains to gradually distance himself from his family in order to move ahead - though he felt a pang at leaving his sister and youngest brother behind - they weren’t Fred and George after all. 

Leaning back in his office armchair, Percy sighed happily as a pleasant thought popped into his head. Percy couldn’t wait to see the looks on Dumbledore’s and Potter’s faces when he judged the last task of the Triwizard Tournament as the youngest Senior Undersecretary in history.

**~o0o~**

As the weeks continued to pass and draw nearer to the Third Task, Harry and Hermione managed to keep up on their studies while researching and training for the Third Task with the others. Ron was a bit disappointed that Harry was too busy to hang out, but he understood why, and resigned himself to the situation; he had Seamus, and at least he could see Harry at most mealtimes.

Harry and Hermione also continued to practice their Patronus Charms whenever they could find the time. Hermione had finally worked out how to send messages with them, but beyond that, their Patronuses appeared to be growing ever stronger. Harry and Hermione were almost overwhelmed to the point of passing out by the radiant pulses of magical energy flooding the Room of Requirement.

And as the weeks progressed under Moody’s tutelage, Harry noticed that Hermione was going all out, putting everything she had into practicing her spellwork and her physical combat training, and he began to feel a bit worried. 

A sudden horrible thought occurred to Harry, slamming him in the gut. After everyone else had departed the Room of Requirement he shut the door and gave Hermione a look, a vein throbbing in his temple.

“Er... what’s wrong Harry?” Hermione asked anxiously. She could tell that she had done something to really upset him, but she had no idea what.

“Stay out of that maze Hermione,” Harry warned hoarsely, “I don’t want you in there... you could get killed.”

Hermione flushed. So that was it. Harry had correctly discerned the reason for her increasing intensity during training sessions.

“And what about you?” Hermione retorted heatedly, quivering crossly, “You could get killed too...”

“That’s just it... I don’t want you to die as well... I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you in there. You’ve still got your mum...”

 _ **“And what makes you think I can bear it any better, Harry James Potter?”**_ Hermione suddenly screamed, hot angry tears streaming down her blazing cheeks. _**“I’m not letting you face death alone! I can’t live without you! Don’t you understand?”**_

Harry was taken aback. He hadn’t realised how much he was hurting Hermione. He faltered, and tried another tack.

“I... look... you won’t even be able to get in there...”

“The wards will only be keyed to Professors and Headmasters,” Hermione snapped, burning tears still dripping. “The Commission won’t be expecting any students to enter of their own volition. We’re in this together Harry, and that’s final!” Hermione finished vehemently.

Harry discovered his own face wet with tears; he felt on the verge of a panic attack. His chest was tight - the walls began to close in on him - he couldn’t breathe and he began to shake. Hermione could die and it would be all his fault.

Hermione broke. Her features softened and she flung her arms around Harry, sobbing. Harry returned Hermione’s embrace and clutched her tightly, her warmth filling him, her scent calming. He kissed her bushy head as he began to settle.

“I’m sorry Hermione... I’m so sorry... I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just want you to live.”

“Whatever happens in there is whatever happens Harry,” Hermione sniffled quietly into his chest. “You don’t have to do it all alone Harry... ”

“Look at me Hermione... please!?”

Hermione lifted her head and Harry cupped her chin, wiping her tears away gently with the forefinger of his other hand.

“I love you Hermione,” Harry uttered softly; she melted in his eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re right... I promised you that whatever happened, we’d always be in it together. I’m really, really sorry for letting my stupid old feelings get the better of me...”

Hermione shut Harry up with a tender, wet kiss, pulled back and gazed into Harry’s pooling green eyes, biting her lip in consternation, feeling bad for screaming at him.

“Don’t be sorry Harry... They’re _**not**_ stupid feelings - I know how hard it is for you to not feel guilty when you think that you’re putting other people in danger... I can’t expect you to stop having them altogether. I... I just want you to know that no matter what, I’m never letting them come between us.

“And _**I’m**_ the one who’s sorry Harry! I’m so sorry that I shouted at you... Please, let me make it up to you,” she finished; a golden glimmer flashed in her eyes.

“Er...” Harry was bewildered by Hermione’s sudden change in demeanor.

“Come on then...” Hermione grabbed his hand and led him out of the Room of Requirement. She paced back and forth several times, and when she opened the door again, he spied the Fairy Grotto jacuzzi which he had first conjured up months ago.

“Er...” he said again. “Are you sure about this Hermione?”

“Why not? Nothing awful happened last time!” she answered. “...Just a bit of shaking.”

Harry grinned as Hermione yanked him through the door and shut it behind them.

**~o0o~**

Dinner was in full swing. Everyone was too busy feasting to notice that Harry and Hermione weren’t at the Mingling Table tonight. The Great Hall trembled slightly.

“Bloody Hell!” Ron gasped. “There it is again... What's going on?” Ron dropped his forkful of mashed potatoes as the Great Hall fell into darkness when the floating candles flickered and went out.

“Dunno mate,” said Seamus, equally perplexed.

The candles flared up again moments later, brighter than before, and a buzz of bewilderment filled the Hall. The other professors glanced at Dumbledore questioningly. Dumbledore shrugged, a twinkle in his eye, apparently unconcerned.

The walls shook twice more during dinner, and each time the candles flickered, the intensity of their luminosity grew stronger when they relit. Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes in suspicion at Dumbledore when he continued to behave so nonchalantly. Dumbledore caught her eye and winked. 

If she didn’t know better, McGonagall would have thought he was smirking underneath those whiskers.


	37. The Tempest Pt 1: Batten Down the Hatches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lemony version of this chapter is now available in _Moments in Love: The Steamy Version._

Unable to stay asleep any longer, Albus Dumbledore poured himself a hot cup of Darjeeling, squeezed in a bit of lemon and stirred in a single spoon of honey. Fawkes grumbled and squawked at having been woken so early - as did the portrait of Phineas Nigellus which Dumbledore just ignored.

The headmaster was pleased that things seemed to be coming along nicely at Number 12 with Petunia and Dudley Dursley - both Evanses now, he reminded himself, having convinced Petunia that she should file for divorce and seek full custody of her son - and with Jean Granger and her sister.

It would not have been at all feasible without a wizard to manage the magical residence and monitor the situation now that Sirius and Remus had taken up residence at the Shrieking Shack to be closer to the centre of the action. But Abbie Brixton appeared to be doing a fine job, and she had indicated that things had been going as well as could be expected the past couple of months, given the disparate personalities of the family members of both Potters.

Which was good, because things were clearly coming to a head. Given the situation at the Ministry, it was clear that Harry would have no longer been able to reside at Number 4 Privet Drive anyway, even if Vernon Dursley hadn’t been so intransigent. While safe from Voldemort there, Harry was vulnerable to the Minister - who had made it plain as day that her interest in Harry Potter was as obsessive as that of the self-styled “Dark Lord.”

And it was ever more clear that though Voldemort posed the most immediate threat - barring the Triwizard Tournament of course - that the Minister was beginning to look like the bigger long-term threat by far.

The Minister’s political skills were masterful, and her agenda - much the same as Voldemort’s - threatened to undo over a century of progress in wizarding Britain in a way which Riddle could never have hoped to achieve through brute force alone.

As “Lord” Voldemort, Tom Riddle had frightened many into seeing things his way, but his habit of murdering his own supporters in fits of psychotic rage had also made that support rather wobbly. A fact that the current Minister had exploited to her great advantage in Voldemort's absence.

It was also clear that if Harry survived the Tournament, that the Minister would escalate and move to secure the Ministry completely in an effort to drive Harry Potter and the Order underground.

Another fact was that Amelia Bones was in danger while Voldemort lived. The Bones Family had been targeted with extreme prejudice and nearly wiped out by Voldemort in the last war, the only survivors being Susan Bones’s parents, and her Great-Aunt Amelia. It was almost a certainty that Voldemort would want to finish the job.

And now it was also quite probable that the Minister would find some means to wrest the DMLE from Amelia’s control. An assassination attempt by Minister Umbridge was also a distinct possibility while Voldemort remained at large as a convenient scapegoat, whenever she deigned to reveal his return. Should she gain complete control of the Ministry, the Minister would no doubt attempt to take Hogwarts at her earliest opportunity.

Dumbledore dipped his quill in his inkwell and began to scribble a rough plan.

Dawlish and Shacklebolt would have to stay glued to Amelia at the Ministry for the time being, but she would not be safe in her own home. Harry had indicated that he would feel better if the Evanses and his wife’s family had extra magical protection. Perhaps if Amelia also took up temporary residence in Number 12 that would meet everyone’s needs.

As to the Order itself, it was clear that Hogwarts could not be left unattended over the summer. It was likely to be targeted by both Voldemort and the Minister. It might be best for the Professors to remain at Hogwarts this year. And every effort must be made to protect the members of the School’s Board of Governors. Their homes must be provided with the highest levels of security.

And now that the Order had a media outlet to counter the Minister’s propaganda, Mr Lovegood’s facilities would also have to be protected - possibly moved to a new location altogether. 

Meanwhile, further efforts were necessary to locate and finish Voldemort and his horcruxes - the sooner the better. As long as the Minister appeared to be the bigger threat, Voldemort was a thorn in the Order’s side, and the Order’s attention divided.

And as to the odd magical power surges, Dumbledore had a strong suspicion that the Potters were somehow behind them - and he had a reasonably good idea of how they were producing them. One thing at least had been made clear by the instruments which monitored Hogwarts, the magic - whether in the raw outbursts, or in the apparent directed applications - was highly purified and refined. 

Traces of such high frequency magic in Ireland, Britain, and Europe were these days to be found only in ancient magical sites associated with Witchcraft, which were currently ascribed by muggles to primeval Goddess worshippers.

The only other time Dumbledore had personally come across such magic was during a tour of the Orient when he had been introduced to an Ashram in India, a Temple in Tibet, and a Temple in China’s Wudang range, all of which bore the signature of similar magic, and all of them the only schools dedicated to witchcraft in otherwise male dominated magical traditions. But their secrets had been fiercely guarded by the witches who maintained them.

And if anything, the mysterious magic had strengthened every defence which Hogwarts possessed. With each event of the raw outbursts - three in just the course of last night’s dinner-time, and the one several months ago - and with each event of the applied magic of the same frequency signature, which had been occurring on a regular basis in that time period - the power of the protection charms which warded the castle had increased tenfold. 

With some direction, the magic could be utilised to provide an unmatchable level of security for Hogwarts. But for the meantime, Dumbledore felt it wise to simply let it flourish on its own... at least until the conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament. And perhaps it would also be wise to follow up on Alastor’s most recent suggestion.

Confident now that he had addressed all of his immediate concerns, Albus Dumbledore lay down his quill, sighed, and poured himself a fresh cup of tea.

**~o0o~**

In the final weeks leading up to the Third Task, Harry and Hermione had never been busier. Especially Hermione as, unlike Harry, she still faced final exams at the end of June. The Champions had all been given the break from exams as it was expected that they would all be studying and training as hard as they could to make it through the Tournament.

It was during the last week of May, not long after Harry and Hermione had had their first real argument, when they were approached by Professor McGonagall during Transfigurations. She had a dour expression, which wasn’t uncommon for McGonagall.

“Potter... and Potter, if you would, I’d like a word with the both of you after class today.” 

“Er... what’s this about Professor?” asked Harry.

“After class Mr Potter.” 

Of course Harry and Hermione could think of nothing else during the rest of the lesson. Even Hermione was having trouble concentrating. Finally class was finished, and the rest of the students began filing out of the classroom.

“Alright then,” McGonagall began, her voice crisp, once the class was empty of all but her and the Potters. “I have been in consultations with the headmaster, and it his considered opinion that you - Mrs Potter - are to be relieved of the burdens of final exams...”

“Oh no!” Hermione squeaked in disappointment - though Harry appeared to be very grateful.

“Quite!” said the Professor, looking as if she very much agreed with Hermione’s sentiments. “It was brought to my attention by Professor Moody and the headmaster that you have been providing Mr Potter with unprecedented levels of assistance...”

Harry swallowed nervously and glanced at Hermione, who peered back at him, equally anxious - both wondering if their plans had been found out.

“In any case,” McGonagall continued, “after the necessity for you both to focus your attentions in these last few weeks before the Third Task became clear to me, I could only but agree with the headmaster’s concerns. So... there you have it Mrs Potter - you are clear to do your utmost to help Mr Potter without the distractions of studying for finals...”

Harry let out a huge sigh of relief. He couldn’t be happier; it had become very clear to him that Hermione was becoming overloaded and experiencing high levels of stress - though she would never admit it. The Potters both thought McGonagall was finished and turned to leave, but the Professor had one last thing to say.

“Oh... And Mrs Potter, _**do**_ try and keep Mr Potter alive, won’t you?”

Both turning pink, Harry and Hermione scurried out of the classroom as quick as their feet could carry them.

“D’you think they all know?” Harry whispered, as they made their way to the next class.

“I’m not really sure Harry,” said Hermione. “It does seem very suspicious, but I rather think that Professor McGonagall would have put her foot down if she found out, so I doubt it.”

Things seemed even odder when Snape held them both back after Potions the following day. Harry stared at Snape feeling very perplexed, and Hermione bit her lip, wondering what was going on. After the usual awkward moment whenever Snape tried to talk to them, he finally began after heaving a weary sigh. 

“Potter... It has been brought to my... attention, that you may be facing some rather... _extreme_ circumstances in the upcoming final task. Given the severity of the situation, I have deemed it wise to bestow upon you some knowledge which you may find particularly beneficial.”

At this point, Snape reached into the drawer of his desk and pulled out a tatty old potions book with ragged edges and frayed bindings. The Potters’ eyes were drawn to it as Snape slid it across his desk.

“That’s a sixth year potions book...” said Hermione, looking very puzzled.

“Indeed... That is most perceptive of you, Mrs Potter!”

Harry lifted an eyebrow, wondering if Snape was being sarcastic. It was hard to tell sometimes.

“In any case,” Snape continued, his features inscrutable, “this book is more than just any sixth year potions book - it was my own. And it contains in the margins annotations, including some very useful spells - many of them of my own invention. There is one in particular that should prove quite... efficacious, in situations requiring extreme measures.

“Now one might ask... why I do not simply tell you the spell, and retain the book for myself? I had considered it, but as it so happens, I believe that you will both be needing it. The lessons from your current year are clearly not challenging enough for either of you... 

“And I have no doubt that next year’s will be equally undemanding. So at the earliest opportunity, you are both to begin Advanced Potions with me. Clearly, this is not the time - however, it seems likely that you will have plenty of time this summer...”

Incredulous and unable to help himself, Harry blurted out, “Wait... did you just say this summer?”

“Yes Potter...” Snape gave Harry a withering look. “Keep up, won’t you?”

“Er... sorry sir!” Harry flushed. “I just... I mean... er... Why this summer?”

“You will have to ask the headmaster,” Snape replied, still looking impatient. “Perhaps he means me to give you private lessons at your home. I am not always privy to Professor Dumbledore’s reasons for his instructions, and it is not my place to question the headmaster. Now, if there are to be no further questions...”

Harry bit his tongue.

“Very good!” Professor Snape appeared to be somewhat mollified. “As I was saying - at some point you shall be receiving tutoring in Advanced Potions from me, but for the moment, there is a particular spell - a very.... _dangerous_ spell which you may find invaluable during the Third Task. 

“It is not altogether unlike the Diffindo Charm - a spell which I know that you are quite adept with. It can be however, much more damaging... its effects more long lasting, and in some cases permanent. It is also more effective on some magical beings who are otherwise invulnerable to the Diffindo Charm... Hence, I am sure that you can see how it might be useful to you, Potter.”

Snape appeared to think that required a response, so Harry nodded and answered, “Er... yes! Of course sir.” 

“Excellent!” Snape seemed relieved to have got that out of the way. “The spell is the Sectumsempra Curse. It is written in the margins of one of the pages... labeled ‘for enemies’... Look it up - practice it. 

“And I’m _sure_ that I don’t have to tell you not to test it out on unsuspecting persons... nor to tell you not to test any _other_ unknown spells on unsuspecting persons for that matter - there are a number of such in that book.”

Harry felt extremely insulted that Snape would even think that he was stupid enough to try out a spell he’d never heard of before on someone, but he didn’t say so... not in so many words anyway. Though Harry’s tone might have given him away.

“Of course I wouldn’t sir...”

Snape seemed satisfied, as his expression softened. “Good! I think then that we are finished for today, Potter!”

**~o0o~**

It was the eve of the Third Task, and Minister Umbridge went over her strategy one last time as she sipped her third cup of tea. All seemed to be in order. At last, at the conclusion of the Task, the return of Voldemort could be announced. He would prove to be such an exceptional scapegoat for what she had planned.

**~o0o~**

The day before the Third Task arrived with little fanfare as it was Friday and most students were in class. The Champions however had been given the day off to mentally prepare themselves and ostensibly get as much rest as possible. But Harry had called them all to the Room of Requirement to go over the last details.

“Of course it’s going to take place at dusk instead of in the morning,” Hermione grumbled as she and Harry waited in the corridor for the others to arrive. “Obviously to maximise the danger as much as possible.”

“Oh...” Harry sighed, raising his eyebrows. “You’re right... I hadn’t thought about that.” He heard footsteps in the corridor and spied the others approaching.

Cedric seemed a bit put out. “I was hoping to spend a bit of time with Cho, Harry. I managed to convince McGonagall to let her have the day off.”

“Well, we shouldn’t be too long Cedric. I’ll do you first if you’d like,” Harry responded. Though he was quite sure that Viktor was hoping to have as much time as possible with Lavender too - and no doubt Fleur would want to spend the rest of the day with Dora, who had arrived with the others.

“Er... what do you mean, ‘do me first’...?” 

“You’ll see,” said Harry, grinning. “Anyway, I think you’ll like this Cedric - it was Hermione’s idea. She’s absolutely brilliant!” Hermione blushed, trying not to look too pleased.

Harry opened the door to the Room of Requirement and the others gasped. They peered around in amazement as they entered into the sunlight and stepped onto the sand. Waves crashed near the shoreline, the blue-green waters of the Mediterranean shimmering, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight in the bright blue sky. 

“Ze Cote d’Azure,” Fleur murmured, her eyes wide. “It feels like ‘ome...”

“Yes!” Hermione beamed, eyes gleaming, her hair as usual catching the golden rays of the sun. “It’s a bit of the French Riviera I visited with my parents one summer.”

“What... how...?” Cedric was absolutely stunned.

“It’s a bit like the Enchanted Ceiling in the Great Hall,” Harry replied. “The edges are really an illusion... 

“...Though if we went all the way to the water, the room would make that bit real when we got to it,” said Hermione excitedly. “We’ve already tested it.”

“Anyway, we thought it would be a nice place to relax while I painted some runes and symbols on us all,” Harry added.

“Oh? For Vot vill we need ze Runes?” asked Viktor.

“Well, they should help protect us from some of the creatures we think might be in the maze,” Hermione replied. “Harry and I have been working on them for weeks. We wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Er... us?” Cedric looked puzzled by Hermione’s choice of words.

“Oh, that’s the other thing... Hermione will be joining us in the maze,” said Harry. “She’s going to use my invisibility cloak to slip by everyone.”

“Are you joking?” Cedric’s jaw dropped. Fleur, Viktor, and Dora seemed only mildly surprised, knowing the Potters as well as they did. 

“I’d come in too if I could,” said Dora. “I asked Dumbledore if I ought to join you lot. But ‘e seems to think that the wards might take me for a Professor. Hermione should be alright though.”

After the surprise wore off, Cedric wondered what they were supposed to do next. But Fleur seemed to understand what was required right away. Cedric gulped, turning beet-red when Fleur removed her blouse. Dora and Hermione grinned at his goofy expression. Soon everyone except Dora was topless and lying on beach towels, ready for Harry to tattoo them.

True to his word, Harry did Cedric first, for which Cedric was very grateful. Hurriedly, Cedric put his shirt and blazer back on and bolted from the Room of Requirement, trying his hardest not to look at Fleur, who was tittering. Harry dipped one of his brushes into the Rune Ink which he had brought and next began to tattoo Hermione. 

“Ooooh... that tickles,” Hermione giggled, when Harry started to ink her abdomen with the brush. 

“Try not to move Hermione,” said Harry, grinning. 

When he had finished with Hermione, Harry started on Fleur. He was quite glad that her charms had little effect on him, as he wasn’t sure that he could keep his hand from shaking, judging from the reactions of Cedric and most other guys.

“I don’t recognise some of these runes Harry,” Dora remarked as she watched him work when he moved on to do Fleur.

“That’s because most of them aren’t Norse Runes,” Harry replied, “They weren’t in standard texts. Hermione and I found some symbols in books of ancient Greek Magic, and others in books of Ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphs...”

“...We’re not _entirely_ certain that they’ll work because obviously we haven’t had an opportunity to test them of course, but they ought to,” Hermione continued. “One set of symbols is supposed to protect us from the Gorgon’s Gaze, and another set should protect us from Manticore venom...” 

“...Hermione and I are bringing some bezoars in a little pouch too in case an Acromantula or Skrewt gets one of us,” said Harry, “but they may not work for Manticore venom, which can kill you nearly instantaneously if you get hit with its stinger...”

“... And these are the symbols the Egyptian Ministry uses to keep the Mummies locked in their tombs,” Hermione added. “The Norse Runes are just the standards for Fire and Cold though... There weren’t any that would scare away Skrewts or Acromantulas...”

Dora was very impressed... and very aroused by the sight of her new girlfriend only half-clothed. Harry and Viktor both chortled when Fleur dressed and Dora practically dragged her out of the Room of Requirement. Hermione rolled her eyes at the pair of silly boys.

**~o0o~**

Dora suddenly awoke when Fleur stirred beside her.

“Bloody Hell! Is that the time?” Dora’s eyes widened with shock when her eyes lit upon the clock on the mantelpiece. She leapt out of her bed and began flinging her clothes on. “I’m supposed to be escortin’ Harry and Hermione to breakfast... 

“They’re supposed to be meeting the officials and foreign dignitaries... You are too come to think about it.”

“Mmm... vairy good, Dora! I will be right be’ind you chérie...”

**~o0o~**

Molly Weasley turned to look when Minerva McGonagall glanced at the entrance of the Great Hall. She beamed when she spotted Harry and Hermione arriving with Tonks and the French girl. Molly tugged on Arthur’s sleeve.

“Just a moment Minerva. Arthur... I think I’ll go say hello then - to let Harry know that we’re here to support him. Do you want to join me?”

“Oh... er...” Arthur spotted one of his sons directly in the path between the entrance of the Great Hall and the Staff table. His jaw tightened. “Perhaps later dear - but you go right ahead.”

Molly began to make her way through the throng of students and visitors to greet Harry and Hermione. As she passed by her son amongst the other officials, she caught his eye. Her son quickly looked away and turned his back on her. Molly huffed and continued on her way. 

She narrowed her eyes when she saw Amos Diggory glaring at the Potters. Molly hoped he wasn’t going to cause a scene. Arthur had told her about his attitude towards Harry since the World Cup, and her friendly feelings towards Amos had cooled dramatically. Her hopes for a civil encounter were dashed when Amos began spouting off.

“There he is - the little Dark-Lord-in-Training himself,” Amos Diggory sneered loudly when he spied Harry strolling into the Great Hall, “Watch your back in there Cedric. He might use that Dark Curse on you...”

Harry’s face darkened. Fleur and Hermione flushed angrily, and Dora was livid. She looked like she was about to lay into Amos herself. Daphne, Parvati, Ginny, and Luna, who were about to seat themselves at the Mingling Table with Lavender and Viktor, all glowered at Mr Diggory. People turned to stare, and some even turned up their noses at the Potters, nodding in agreement.

“SHUT-IT Father!” Cedric snapped and his voice rose, “You don’t _**bloody**_ know what you’re talking about. All you do is parrot the rubbish in the _Daily Prophet_ and I’m done with it... In fact, I’m done with YOU!

“How many times do I have to tell you that if it weren’t for Harry, that I would have never known about the Dragon? I was almost burned to a crisp as it was! And if it weren’t for Harry my girlfriend would probably still be at the bottom of the Black Lake! Harry’s a good person and he’s my friend.”

Cedric turned his back on his gobsmacked father and stalked away. Molly thought Cedric’s mother looked rather proud of her son. Despite her best efforts, Molly’s hopes of saying hello to Harry and Hermione before breakfast were dashed when the crowd grew too thick to push her way through.

“Don’t pay any attention to my father, Harry,” Cedric said emphatically as he put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “He’s just an idiot who believes whatever he reads in that Ministry-loving Rag.”

“Er... Alright then.” Harry swallowed uncomfortably, knowing how hard it must have been for Cedric to stand up to his father. “Thanks for sticking up for me Cedric.”

Dora hoped that the awkwardness was over and that she could get back to doing her job and lead her charges over to the additional table laid out for the officials in the center of the Great Hall. 

Hermione began to bristle again; Harry looked to see what was making her so cross. He stiffened when he saw who else was at the table. Dora peered to see what had caught the Potters’ attention. She sighed when she spotted Senior Undersecretary Percy Weasley at the table glad-handing the foreign dignitaries.

“Oh bugger it!” Dora huffed, “Forget the bloody dignitaries! They can all sod off - it’s mostly just the Minister’s foreign pals anyway! Go ‘ave breakfast - I’ll deal with ‘em...”

Harry glanced at Fleur and Hermione, uncertain. 

“Er... you sure Dora?” asked Harry. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Well I’m really only here for the Order anyway,” muttered Auror-on-leave Tonks, “...no matter what the other Aurors think. Go on you lot. I mean it... I’ve got this! I’ll see you at the table in a minute, alright!?” 

“Thanks Dora,” said Hermione, letting out a sigh of relief. The last thing she and Harry needed was a run-in with Percy.

The Potters took their seats among their friends. Everyone was at the table today, including the Twins, Dean, Neville - even Ron and Seamus. Ron was scowling at the table full of officials.

“Bloody Percy!” Ron fumed. “He’s been a real git lately - had a huge row with Mum and Dad when he became Senior Undersecretary. Percy began complaining to Dad about you and Dumbledore, Harry... He’s moved out on his own now - good riddance!” 

“Hear, hear!” chimed in George.

“I always knew he’d come to no good,” Fred agreed. Ginny bit her lip, looking torn. As cross as she was with Percy, she was more than a bit sad about the whole affair.

Everyone did their best to put Percy out of their minds when breakfast arrived on their plates. Hermione was eating a piece of bacon when she noticed a beetle sitting on the corner of the table. 

For some reason it looked very familiar. A memory of Viktor pointing out a water-beetle in her hair after the Second Task popped into her head - another memory arose, this time of Harry flicking a beetle off his chest after he’d had a vision of Voldemort summoning his Death Eaters.

Suddenly it all fit. Hermione’s eyes narrowed when she finally reached her conclusion. Then, grabbing her cup of tea, Hermione drained it in one gulp and smiled brightly at Harry.

“Just a moment Harry, I’ll be right back...” Hermione stood up with her empty cup in hand, stalked to the end of the table, and slammed the cup upside down over the beetle, trapping it inside.

“Do you mind if I borrow your saucer Luna?” Hermione asked sweetly.

“Of course not Hermione,” Luna peered at Hermione with great interest as she passed her the saucer.

Carefully, Hermione slid the cup onto the saucer, keeping the beetle trapped. Then she serenely returned to her seat and sat back down next to Harry. He eyed Hermione questioningly. She gestured towards the teacup with the saucer on top and grinned.

“Say hello to Rita Skeeter, Harry!”

**~o0o~**

Rita Skeeter couldn’t fathom how Hermione Potter had discovered her secret. But that wasn’t her biggest problem. Her biggest problem was that she now faced Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey in a dungeon deep in the bowels of Hogwarts.

Judging from violent glares she was receiving from the two witches, Rita decided that Dumbledore was her best bet.

“You can’t keep me trapped here forever you know,” Rita purred, licking her lips and fluttering her eyelashes at the Headmaster, “I promise I’ll behave if...”

“You are very fortunate Ms Skeeter...” the headmaster interrupted, his voice calm and his gaze frosty, “It was quite crowded in the Great Hall this morning. Someone might have accidentally stepped on you.”

Rita shuddered from a sudden chill when she realised that Dumbledore wasn’t joking. But surely he wouldn’t...

“You are also _quite_ fortunate that I am unwilling to allow Minerva and Poppy to determine your fate,” Dumbledore continued, “They do not look kindly upon the damage you have done to Mr Potter and his wife’s reputations.

“Nor do I... but I am more forgiving than they... You will find that we _**can**_ keep you here quite comfortably for the time-being, until such a time as the Wizengamot sees fit to unseat the current Minister and imprison her for her crimes - unless she perishes first.

“Until then, the House Elves of Hogwarts will look after you. They have been ordered to do you no harm - which is good, because some of them are quite friendly with the Potters who treat them very well.

“You would do well to remember that this cell is enchanted to prevent animagus transformations. Though should the enchantment waver, you should also know that the House Elves are very fastidious when it comes to pest control - and I may have forgotten to mention your animagus form to them...”

**~o0o~**

Pink wisps of cloud faded into darkness as the setting sun fell behind the mountains. The tops of the tall hedges which made up the maze could only just be seen above the shroud of mist. As the host of students, staff, and visitors made their way to the stands, once again Harry wondered what they expected to see.

Fleur gave Dora a kiss before following Harry to the gate. Dora sighed resignedly and found a seat at the end of the row where the rest of the Potters’ friends were seated. In all of the hubbub, none of the other students thought to wonder where Hermione was. Ginny and Luna, Lavender, Parvati, and Daphne knew, but they had all been sworn to secrecy.

Hermione stood still and quiet under the invisibility cloak next to Harry and Fleur by the gate to the maze, though it wasn’t really necessary as the noise of the crowd in the stands and the ominous purple shadows of dusk provided distraction and cover. Oddly, Mad Eye appeared able to see her, but he winked and said nothing. This time Hermione was certain that his eye could see through invisibility cloaks.

Percy Weasley smirked nastily at Harry from his seat in the judges’ station. Bagman grinned, sure that this time he would hit the jackpot - but if not, he knew the Ministry’s coffers would cover his losses. Bagman stood up and counted down. The crowd roared when he fired red sparks from the starting wand.

Trepidation set in as Harry darted into the maze with his invisible Hermione, followed closely behind by Fleur. Cautiously the three of them crept down the aisle until they were enveloped by the dark shadows of the hedges, well over six metres tall, and they waited for Cedric and Viktor to join them...


	38. The Tempest Pt 2: The Labyrinth and the Keep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for this chapter.

As the darkness grew deeper, dusk gave way to night, and only the silvery light of the crescent moon provided any illumination. And even that small sliver of light faltered at times when wisps of cloud drifted across it.

On the farthest side of the maze a large black dog peered around cautiously until he was certain that nobody was watching. Assured, the enormous canine wriggled under the canopy of the hedge. He emerged panting on the other side, twigs and leaves caught in his shaggy fur. Shaking them off, he looked both ways down the dark path, sniffed the air, and chose a direction.

**~o0o~**

Harry, Hermione, and Fleur waited nervously in the shadows for the others to arrive as the minutes ticked by. Their anxiety increased the longer they waited.

“What’s taking so long?” Harry grumbled.

“Viktor and Cedric are being held back by the judges because they’re in the last two places,” Hermione answered. “It’s supposed to give the first place and second place contestants an advantage.” 

Finally two dark silhouettes approached. 

“Ah, zere are Viktor and Cedric!” Fleur and the Potters all breathed a sigh of relief. Once the team was assembled, they lit their wands and briefly conferred.

“Alright,” said Harry, “remember to stick together. We don’t want anyone getting lost. Hermione, do you have an idea which direction we should go?”

“Just a moment Harry...” Hermione placed the wand on the palm of her hand, employing the spell she had created to help them navigate the maze. “Point me,” she murmured, and it spun around several times before coming to a stop. 

“The Triwizard Cup is supposed to be in the centre of the maze,” she continued, “and according to my wand, it’s that way.”

“So, down vich path do we go?” Viktor queried.

“Some of ze paths will be blocked,” sighed Fleur. The five wizards peered at the branching paths, still uncertain as to which one to choose. Harry glanced at Hermione; seeing that she looked as perplexed as the rest of them, he reached a decision. 

“Right, well the obvious path is the one that looks like its going the right direction,” he said. “But I doubt they would have made it that easy. Lets go this way, and if its wrong we’ll double back.

Everyone murmured their assent and warily, the five young wizards forged ahead, the ominous hedges looming over them. Apparently Harry had made a good decision, because finally they came to another three way fork. Hermione performed the Point-me spell again, and this time they chose the pathway to the right. Eventually finding it was blocked, they doubled back and chose the more obvious path this time. Twice more they found the pathways blocked. 

Not having come across any creatures yet, they all began to grow more anxious, glancing about nervously, expecting something to leap out at any moment. Finally they came to a gated gap in the hedge. 

“This must be it,” said Harry. Cautiously they followed Harry into the second ring of the maze. 

The hedge came alive with a rush of wind and the entrance closed behind them. Gnarled branches unfurled; Fleur uttered a small scream as the branches and tendrils seized her and lashed out at Cedric, whipping around his ankles. Viktor dodged just in time as Harry and Hermione rolled out of the way.

The tendrils entwined Fleur and Cedric, dragging them into the foliage of the hedge. Heart pounding, eyes wide, Harry performed the first spell he could think of. 

“Relashio,” Harry shouted to little effect.

“Lumos Solem,” Hermione squealed. Her wand light flared and pierced the darkness. The bushes trembled, releasing Fleur and Cedric.

“Devil’s Snare...” Hermione gasped, “or rather, a hybrid form of it. Thank goodness it still reacted to the spell.”

A skittering sound caught the wizards’ attention; they immediately took position in formation, backs to each other and wands out, as they had practiced ahead of time. The sound was coming from several directions. 

“Over there...” Krum was the first to spot one of the Blast-Ended-Skrewts scuttling towards them out of the shadows. 

It was enormous - at least ten feet long, looking more like a scorpion than anything. It reared its back end, preparing to plunge its stinger into whoever was unfortunate enough to get in its way. As if that weren’t enough, several more emerged from the mist and darkness, spitting hot flames and sparks.

“Aim your spells for the underbellies...” Harry yelled. 

“Harry, look out,” shouted Hermione. 

One of the burning jets of flame caught Harry’s arm; he grit his teeth in pain as his sleeve burned away. Quickly Hermione put out the fire with an Aguamenti Charm. Harry didn’t have time to thank her as the other Skrewts were bearing down on them.

Cedric and Viktor panicked and fired stunners at the ones hurtling towards them, but the red bolts of lightning merely glanced off their shells. Harry waited until the one approaching him reared and he slashed his wand at its underside. The sectumsempra opened a long gash and the skrewt’s entrails spilled out as it shrieked and expired.

Fleur shot a firebolt from her hands at the one approaching from her side. The skrewt shrugged it off and kept coming. It reared its tail to sting and briefly exposed its undercarriage as it lifted its front pincers; Fleur shot another burst of plasma, hotter than before. It hit the belly and the skrewt exploded.

Viktor pulled himself together and slashed his wand, as Harry had taught him, at the Skrewt lunging at Cedric. He gasped in relief when the sectumsempra curse worked, severing one of the Skrewt’s legs. He whipped his wand several more times; the limbless Skrewt screeched, shooting a burst of flame as Cedric rolled backwards and slashed at its underside with the cutting curse. 

The Hufflepuff staggered to his feet in satisfaction as the crablike monster shuddered and died, then he was forced back down, quickly rolling out of the path of another burst of flame. As the Skrewt loomed over him he aimed a Reductor spell at its undercarriage and it disintegrated, screaming. 

The wizards dodged flames and stingers as numerous Skrewts surged forward. The Skrewts were so quick that it was difficult to reach their underbellies, or even aim for the joints of their limbs. Many of their spells, even Sectumsempra, glanced off the Skrewts’ shells. The fight continued for what seemed like hours as time slowed down, but in reality, barely a minute had passed. 

Eventually, one by one, the Skrewts succumbed, either exploding, disintegrating, or filleted by slashing wands. The wizards all took a breather, hoping that they would be allowed a few moments respite. When it seemed like everyone had recovered a bit, Harry beckoned them all forward.

They almost didn’t see it, as it was barely distinguishable from the mist. Caught in their wandlight, a misty cloud of golden hue hovered nearby, drifting towards them. 

“Look out...” Fleur shouted as the golden mist billowed. 

Cedric was directly in its path, unable to move fast enough as the golden mist swirled around him. Cedric screamed in agony as his skin blistered and burned, erupting in boils. Hermione and Fleur lunged for Cedric’s feet as he collapsed, dragging him away from the mist. Fleur was horrified; Cedric began to convulse, foaming at the mouth.

Hermione twirled her wand, crying out, “Ventus Maximus.”

A vortex of air burst from Hermione's wand and swept the mist away. Harry fell beside Cedric, his hand shaking as he pulled a bezoar out of his pouch; he shoved it into the Hufflepuff’s foaming mouth. 

Cedric’s convulsions gradually eased, and his rolling eyes cleared. The bezoar had stopped the Poison Mist from killing Cedric, but it was clear that he was too badly injured to continue. A stinking pus oozed from his blisters and boils.

Harry grabbed Cedric’s wand and fired the Red Sparks into the night sky which gave a professor permission to apparate through the wards to retrieve their fallen student. Hermione fell back into the shadows as Professor Sprout appeared. Her face paled when she saw Cedric’s state. 

“Good luck,” she gasped as she held her pupil and disapparated.

“We’d better get a move-on,” Harry groaned.

After several wrong turns, the young wizards finally discovered the entrance of the third ring. The four of them jogged down the paths until they spied the entrance to the next ring ahead. Hermione discerned the dark shadowy figures of numerous enormous spiders in the blackness before they emerged into the wandlight.

Harry knew this was bad; dozens of Acromantulas surrounded them. Arania Exumai, which only temporarily repelled the giant arachnids - and only singly at that - clearly wasn’t enough to hold them back.

He fired a bombarda into their midst, killing several of them and scattering many others. Fleur’s fireballs took out eight. Hermione’s Reductors took out a number of them. Viktor slashed his wand angrily and six Acromantulas collapsed, screaming. The rest of the Giant Spiders finally retreated. 

Hermione panted, eyes darting wildly as she spun around looking for more.

“Keep your eyes peeled. They’ll probably regroup,” Harry gasped, his heart pounding, sweat dripping from his forehead as they passed through the gate.

The entrance of the fourth ring closed behind them. The wizards all groaned when they realised that they were trapped against the hedge as a Chimaera paced back and forth, eyeing them hungrily. 

Suddenly the deadly looking beast pounced, opening its lion-like maw, an inferno pouring forth. The wizards all dispersed, but Viktor was caught off guard when the monster’s dragon tail whipped around. It slammed into the side of Viktor’s skull, and he collapsed.

Fleur was closest to him; quaking in fright she dragged Viktor into the bushes and fired his wand into the night sky. Karkaroff appeared seconds later, grabbing Viktor and vanishing. 

Harry and Hermione didn’t even notice, concentrating on evading the Chimaera’s flames and savage tail.

“Over here!” Fleur waved her arms, drawing the Chimaera’s attention while the Potters circled behind the monster. As it lunged towards Fleur, Harry and Hermione whipped their wands. The Chimaera roared in agony as it fell apart at the seams, blood and viscera spilling onto the ground.

The three of them hurtled down the pathways, hoping there were no more Chimaera. All of them out of breath, trembling, hearts thumping in their ears, they had barely stumbled into the fifth ring when the Gorgon was upon them, hissing and slithering, its eyes seeking out their own. 

Panicking, they scattered, trying to avoid its massive serpentine tail. If she’d had the time, Hermione would have breathed a sigh of relief that the Greek Symbols had protected them from the Gorgon’s Gaze. Harry rolled out of the way of the whipping tail, but Fleur was not so lucky. 

The thrashing tail caught Fleur’s legs and she fell screaming as they shattered. Shocked that the humans had survived its gaze, the Gorgon lunged at Hermione.

Hermione shot a Reductor, but the spell had no effect on the creature and every serpent on its head opened its mouth in laughter as it cackled. The Gorgon bore down again on Hermione. Harry’s terror evaporated, his stomach clenched painfully and his blood boiled as rage took over. 

Steadying himself, Harry utilised the spell which had thus far been one of the most effective. With one clean swipe of his wand the Gorgon’s head parted from its body and flew, tumbling, its mouth agape in a silent shriek, the serpents on its head flailing. 

The torso and tail of the Gorgon thrashed and writhed violently for nearly a full minute, spraying blood everywhere from its gaping neck, before it gave one final twitch and stilled forever.

Trembling in fear and anger, Harry ran over and embraced his wife who was shaking and crying, covered in the Gorgon’s blood. They held each other silently, kneeling in the slick stained grass, and both slowly began to calm. 

Harry grabbed Fleur’s wand and Red Sparks shot up like fireworks. Within seconds Madame Maxime arrived. Horrified at the scene, she nodded at the Potters and disapparated quickly with Fleur. Hermione’s breath quickened again when she spied Acromantulas approaching once more.

“We’ve got to go Harry,” she gasped, pulling him to his feet.

Together, they ran down the paths breathing heavily until they found the gate which led to the sixth ring of the maze. They groaned to see another skrewt in their path as at least twenty Acromantulas bore down on them. Hermione fired a bombarda maxima at the arachnids while Harry slashed his wand at the Skrewt.

The Skrewt’s limbs separated from its body. Harry fired a Reductor at its belly when it flipped on its back. Harry whirled around and joined his wife in firing Bombardas and Reductors until every enormous spider had been blown to smithereens or disintegrated. 

Without waiting to see if more would be coming, they ran down the pathways until they found the entrance to seventh ring. As the gap in the hedge closed behind them, both of them halted, wheezing and gasping for air.

The world seemed to fall into silence, and the mist grew heavier until it was a thick fog. They could barely see a few feet ahead. Harry gulped nervously, knowing that the deceptive quiet couldn’t be good. The best thing that could be said as they crept slowly forward, was that Harry and Hermione had a chance to catch their breaths and gather their wits.

Harry spun around and Hermione’s breath caught when they heard the crack of a branch. Hearts beginning to race again, they peered around trying to see through the dense fog. A shuffling sound came from behind them; they pivoted back around but they still couldn’t see a thing. 

An odd low groaning sound reached their ears. They could only just make out shadowy figures approaching - hear lurching footfalls. Terror clutched Hermione’s chest when a horrible thought struck her.

“Harry,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “I... I think they might be Inferi...”

“What?” Harry gasped, “Are... are you sure?”

“I think so Harry,” Hermione moaned. 

Harry’s mind clouded with Horror. Despite Hermione’s offhand comment several months ago, neither one of them had believed that the Minister would actually stoop to Necromancy. What on earth were they supposed to do for Inferi? He racked his brain trying to think of something. Sectumsempra wouldn’t work on something without blood. 

The shadowy groaning figures drew closer.

“Hermione, what do we do?”

“Heat and Light spells Harry... Maybe Reductors too!”

Hermione screamed as a greyish rotting hand grabbed her arm, eyes boggling at the sight of the exposed skull where the skin hung in peeling rags. Harry whipped his wand and severed the arm of the undead corpse. But more surged towards them, numerous Inferi emerging from the shroud of fog. 

Recovering herself, Hermione yelled, “Lumos Solem.” She was shocked when they kept coming.

“That should have worked,” she whimpered. 

“Reducto,” shouted Harry. One of the Inferi disintegrated, but there were many more.

Heat and Light spells... Heat and Light... Harry kept repeating the phrase to himself. Finally his brain began to work again and he remembered the incendiary spell which Moody had taught them. 

“Confringo,” he suddenly blurted out.

Several Inferi burst into flame and exploded, and others were knocked down. But there were just too many, and the surging horde just stepped on the fallen, crushing them. Not to mention that a few pieces of flaming inferi fell uncomfortably close to Harry and Hermione. Harry whirled around, his back to Hermione’s when he realised there were more behind them.

“Bombarda,” he shouted, but it merely sent a group of them flying. More Inferi swarmed forward, filling the gap in their ranks, as the broken ones which had been blasted dragged themselves along the ground.

Soon Harry and Hermione were both yelling. “Confringo - Confringo...” before deciding that the explosive incendiary spell was a bit too dangerous in such close quarters. They returned to the safer disintegration spell, "Reducto... Reducto..."

But for every Inferi destroyed, ten more seemed to take their places - closing in. Harry and Hermione were surrounded - skeletal hands, decaying flesh hanging from their arms - reaching for them... tearing at Hermione’s limbs, scratching her face as she shrieked.

The stench of festering Death was unbearable. Biting teeth clamped on Harry’s forearm and he screamed in pain. Suddenly a crazy thought occurred to Harry. It might not work, but they had no options left.

“Hermione... Our Patronuses, Now!” 

Hermione didn’t bother to think. She just reacted, all of her good memories flashing before her eyes... How she felt about Harry... Knowing she would break if she lost him.

 **“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”** they both roared. 

Blinding white light radiated from their wands in throbbing pulses - an etheric stag and doe charged the Inferi. Every animated corpse in the radius of the glaring light halted in their tracks - their grunts and groans turned into earsplitting screeches of agony. 

The walking dead shuddered; what was left of their rotting flesh withered and blackened as they combusted from within, flames blazing from their eye-sockets. Blackened flesh turned to ash and the inert skeletons of a hundred or more Inferi collapsed, falling into heaps and mounds of skulls and bones. 

Shaking and bloody, Harry and Hermione fell to their knees gasping in pain and fright. At least ten minutes passed before they both calmed down enough to stagger back to their feet. They waded through the skeletons, hoping that the worst was behind him. Finally they came to what they hoped was the last gate.

Harry and Hermione heaved huge sighs of relief. The gleaming silver Triwizard Cup stood on a plinth in the centre of the maze, bathed in a bluish light. It was over! 

Then they heard a growl which sent shivers down their spine. 

Harry sighed wearily and Hermione groaned in recognition of the Manticore guarding the Cup. The enormous human-like head grinned as its lion body paced, its scorpion tail unfurling. Harry slashed his wand but the creature was too fast.

“Foolish boy, you didn’t think the Minister would save the least for last did you?” the beast laughed, as it circled the two young wizards. Furiously, Harry whipped his wand several more times while Hermione fired Reductors. The Manticore dodged every spell.

Harry’s blood turned to ice in his veins when the creature laughed again.

“Hahahahahahaha... I am the King in this Realm. My power is no longer bound by magical oath. The Dark Witch freed me to do as I will. All she asked for in return was your death. A simple matter...”

The Manticore's taunts were interrupted by a ferocious outburst of barking as an enormous shaggy black dog lunged at the monster.

“Sirius... NO!” Hermione screamed in terror as the beast’s fangs sank into Sirius’s neck.

But the distraction was all that Harry needed. In a blaze of fury, Harry whipped and slashed his wand until the manticore was a bloody pile of flesh. Padfoot choked on his own blood as the two young wizards ran to his side.

“SIRIUS! Please... don’t die... don’t die...” Harry broke, hot tears streaking the dirt and blood on his cheeks. Harry knelt beside Sirius. Panicked and exhausted, Hermione’s legs gave out and she collapsed.

Slowly, with careful deliberation, the canine morphed back into human form, the puncture wounds on his neck shrinking.

“What? Sirius...” Harry gasped. 

“It’s alright...” Sirius coughed and spat out some more blood as Harry tearfully looked on in disbelief. “...I’ll be fine. It’s very difficult, but for animagi, it is possible to heal an injury from one form when transforming into the other...”

Harry sighed as relief flooded through him. Sirius was going to live. Drained and exhausted, he collapsed as well, groaning on the ground next to Sirius and Hermione.

But something still wasn’t quite right. The first thing that Harry noticed was Sirius’s breath clouding, then he felt the bitter chill in the air and his bones, and the grass whitened as ice crystals crept along the blades. Hermione opened her eyes when she felt it too.

“Dementors!” Harry whispered as the tears on his cheeks froze. He should have known that the Minister would have a fallback plan.

The three of them looked up at the dark partly cloudy sky and their faces dropped. There had to be more than four hundred wraiths drifting towards them, silhouetted against the clouds, backlit by the waning crescent moon.

Harry looked at Hermione and took her hand, a flood of emotion filling him. The memories they had given each other, vivid in their minds, the love they felt for each other bursting in their hearts, Harry grinned, knowing that it wasn’t over, that the Minister wasn’t going to win this way. Hermione smiled back, cracking the frozen blood on her face.

Together they raised their wands and shouted the incantation for the second time that evening.

The white spectral doe and stag sprang forth, soaring into the midst of the Dementors as pulses of Blinding Magic lit up the Night Sky.

The first pulse of light stunned the Dementors; the second pulse of light trapped them, frozen in its matrix. The Dementors quavered and vibrated when the third pulse enveloped him. The fourth pulse hit them and all of the Dementors shattered - the shards falling like black hail on the wizards in the clearing at the centre of the maze.

Sirius was shocked beyond measure as the pieces of black ice struck the ground around them and melted.

**~o0o~**

Albus Dumbledore sprang to his feet enraged when he spied the massive Dementor Swarm invading the Hogwarts grounds, heading for the centre of the maze. Wards be damned! He would destroy them all to get to his students before the Dementors did, even if he had to kill Bagman and the Triwizard Commission Members to do it.

Dumbledore hauled the sputtering Bagman to his feet, pressing the point of his wand to the whimpering wizard’s temple while Senior Undersecretary Weasley cowered in his seat.

“Release the wards now...” the Headmaster uttered softly, dangerously.

“Look...” shouted one of the onlookers among the crowds in the stands. The Headmaster’s jaw dropped as he peered out over the maze.

“Something’s happening...”

“What is it?”

The crowd began to murmur in astonishment, and a thrill swept through them when the sky lit up explosively four times in succession as a pair of ghostly white entities spiraled up through the swarm of Dementors. When it was finished, all that remained was a precipitation glittering in the sliver of moonlight peeking from behind the clouds.

The Headmaster let Bagman collapse at his feet, warmth filling him. Astounded, Dumbledore realised that he had just witnessed the most powerful patronus charms in modern history, and that the Potters were still alive.

But one question remained; it was simply unheard of for a patronus to actually destroy Dementors.

**~o0o~**

After hearing Senior Undersecretary Weasley’s head in her fireplace describing what had happened, Minister Dolores Umbridge shattered every single last one of her collectible pink kitten plates against the pink pin-striped wall of her Upstairs Office.

 **“I HATE CATS!!!”** the enraged witch screamed at the shards littering the pink shag carpet in her office, though she wasn’t really sure why. 

Cats had done nothing to her after all. But seeing them gamboling cheerfully across the plates while her blood boiled with fury was just too much to bear. Dolores decided then and there that she much preferred dogs. Perhaps it was time to start collecting plates with pictures of pink poodles instead.

Dolores fumed, wishing she had more plates to break. She had no idea how Harry Potter had wiped out the Dementors. A patronus charm was merely a shield which could protect one from the effects of maybe twenty Dementors at best; and many adult wizards couldn’t even produce a corporeal patronus. Nor had she ever heard of any spell with the effects which Percy Weasley had described.

Somehow Harry Potter's continued survival had something to do with Dumbledore’s Secret Weapon. It was impossible to destroy Dementors - but somehow Dumbledore had created a device which could do just that. Potter must have deployed it at the conclusion of the Third Task.

Dolores really wanted to sack someone over the turn of events too, but such considerations must not be taken without deliberate calculation. She brought her savage emotions back under control, and as she cooled down, Dolores began to consider her options.

Bagman was the evident choice for a sacking of course. She already had the convenient excuse of his serious gambling addiction. Then it suddenly struck Dolores and her eyes gleamed - this was the opportunity that she had been looking for to achieve her goals.

Certainly, it would now be a relatively simple task to convince the Wizengamot that Amelia had to go. The Minister could easily lay the faulty decision to station a majority of Azkaban’s Dementors at Hogwarts for the conclusion of the tournament at Amelia’s feet. Everyone knew that the DMLE was the agency charged with overseeing the Dementors. 

And of course someone had to be punished for their destruction. This was the perfect opportunity to bring Harry Potter to justice. Now he could be brought to trial as soon as he returned to Number 4 Privet Drive. Once convicted, it would be a simple matter to “lose” him in the system.

This really was a most suitable arrangement indeed.

The Minister cheered up immensely, satisfied that events had actually worked to her best advantage. And as she commanded the Ministry’s House-Elves to bin the debris of her rubbished plates, Dolores Umbridge poured herself a fresh cup of tea, added a splash of Brandy, and perused her Spode Magical Pink Room Collection catalogue, searching for plates featuring Poodles.

**~o0o~**

Following what was clearly the conclusion of the Third Task, Remus Lupin slipped into the maze unseen, disillusioned as he was. Even in human form, as a werewolf, Remus’s sense of smell was quite good. He quickly followed the scent of Harry and Hermione until he reached the centre of the maze.

There, he found Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey, who had just arrived via apparition. And on the ground lay Sirius near the bloodied and thrashed Potters who were lying beside him. The headmaster, the healer, and the professor turned around when Remus undid the disillusionment spell. Dumbledore beckoned him forth. 

Seeing the Potters both stirring and groaning, he knew that Pomfrey would soon have them on the mend. Remus ran to Sirius’s side and looked down to see Sirius grinning up at him. 

“Sirius, you scared me half to death, and there you are just grinning at me like a fool.”

“Glad to see you too Remus,” chortled Sirius. “Missing me already? ....It’s only been a couple of hours since I saw you last.”

Remus shook his head and sighed. He was torn between anger that Sirius had put himself in harm’s way yet again, and elation at finding him undamaged. But how could he really be angry with Sirius? 

If Remus could have controlled his own changes and lycan urges, and passed through the wards, he knew that he would have been there as Moony by Padfoot’s side, doing everything in his power to protect Harry and Hermione. 

Remus felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Albus Dumbledore smiling at them both through watery eyes.

“Go with Sirius, Remus,” said Dumbledore gently. “You still have a few minutes to apparate on Hogwarts grounds... Take some time to yourselves. We have everything well in hand here. The Potters appear to be safe, and despite some injuries, mostly sound. Poppy will look after them for now.”

Madam Pomfrey apparated the pair of young wizards directly to the infirmary, to avoid a mob scene with the spectators at the gates by the stands. 

The headmaster reset Hogwarts’ anti-apparition charms immediately upon his own arrival in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey was already seeing to the Potters’ injuries, washing the blood off them with damp cloths. She scowled at Dumbledore as if daring him to disturb her patients.

“It’s alright Poppy,” Dumbledore said quietly. “I’m leaving now. Any ‘debriefings’ can wait for a day or so. I think everyone has earned a good rest.”

“And where do you think you’re going young lady?” Poppy snapped when Nymphadora Tonks stumbled into the infirmary past Dumbledore as he sauntered out of the door.

“Er...” was the best Dora could manage.

In truth, Dora had rushed up to the hospital wing in a panic, uncertain as to what had become of the Potters and Fleur. Like everyone else, she had witnessed the astonishing light show in the night sky above the maze, but had no idea what had occurred. 

She couldn’t make out the details of the ghostly entities flying into the midst of the Dementors and feared the worst. And nobody had thought to tell Dora what had happened to Fleur. 

By the time the frightened young metamorphmagus had squeezed through the crowd up to the gate, Mad Eye informed Tonks that he had no idea regarding the Potters’ or Fleur’s medical condition, but that Poppy had already collected them.

During Order meetings, Dora often found herself very close to Poppy when Sirius or Lupin weren’t around - they were the only ones who “got” her. But back at Hogwarts, here in the Hospital Wing, Poppy was Madam Pomfrey, Ruler of her Domain. Dora couldn’t help feeling out-of-sorts, like an awkward schoolgirl again as Madam Pomfrey glared at the intruder.

“Dumbledore’s orders... protection,” Order member Tonks made-up on the spot as she tried to calm herself, glowering back at Madam Pomfrey.

“Bah! Go on then...” Poppy huffed crossly. The first thing Dora did was scurry to the Potters’ bedside.

“Harry, Hermione, you two alright...?”

“Yeah... we’ll be fine...” said Harry, wincing as he shifted uncomfortably. 

“...you should go see Fleur!” said Hermione, finishing Harry’s sentence, before letting out a little groan.

Tears sprang to Dora’s eyes when she saw Fleur lying there, groggy and full of pain potions. Her vision blurry, Fleur could just make out Dora’s violet hair.

“Chérie, ees zat you?” Fleur murmured.

“Yeah, Fleur... It’s me.” Dora clasped Fleur’s hand in her own. “You’ll be alright now - you’re in good hands.” Dora leaned over and gave Fleur a warm kiss.

Madam Pomfrey’s eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed, when she spied Diggory and Krum - both well on the mend - gawking at the scene, both with their own girlfriends - Brown and Chang - sitting beside them. With a sigh, Pomfrey waved her wand and a curtain drew around both the Potters’ bed and Fleur’s to give them all a bit of privacy.

She heard a commotion at the door of the infirmary and spotted a large group of people entering the Hospital Wing. Among them were Miss Weasley and Lovegood, Greengrass and Patil, followed by Longbottom, Thomas, Finnegan, and three Weasley brothers - not to mention Arthur and Molly. Fuming, Madam Pomfrey waved them all away.

“Please!” she snapped. “My patients need rest... There will be plenty of time tomorrow for visitations!”

“Alright... alright,” grumbled Ron Weasley. “We’re going...”

“Sorry Poppy,” said Molly, “You’re right of course. Ron - mind your manners...”

**~o0o~**

The Dark Lord had been most annoyed when the first day of summer came and went; Goyle and Crabbe still had not returned from the Caucasus region. But finally, early in the morning of June Twenty Third - the eve of the Third Task - Goyle had arrived with good news.

A phalanx of twenty one Giants which had been brought across the North Sea on a captured Russian Freighter were now awaiting the Dark Lord’s commands on an Orkney island very near to Azkaban. The Giants had been quite eager to leave the mountains of central Eurasia with the promise of starting a new colony in Northern Britain.

The Mountain Trolls captured and enslaved by MacNair numbered fifty, and he was waiting in an isolated natural harbour near Inverness where the freighter would pick them up. The Dark Lord made some final preparations with Wormtail and they departed for the Scottish coast.

It was nearly seven pm on the 24th when Voldemort, Wormtail, Goyle, and MacNair boarded the Russian freighter with nearly forty werewolves, the trolls, and thirty Snatchers. Soon they were well underway and nearing the island on which the Giants and Crabbe waited. When they arrived at Azkaban several hours later, the Dark Lord sent a message to a group of Snatchers which he had stationed in London. 

Piccadilly Circus, Diagon Alley, and London Bridge erupted into chaos as Snatchers created mayhem during the assault upon Azkaban.

**~o0o~**

Silence echoed through the manor, but the naked teenage girl trembling in the basement hardly dared to hope.

Not more than an hour before, that horrifying... thing - the monster with no nose and red eyes - Snakeface - had stood at the top of the basement stairs, silhouetted in the doorway. He had called down to the creep she had come to think of as Ratface, who loomed above her.

“Wormtail... It is time,” Snakeface had hissed commandingly. “Gather our forces... We are leaving for Inverness.”

“Of course Master!” Ratface had responded obsequiously. “At once!”

Ratface had given her one last leering look, then strode up the stairs. 

There had been a lot of clattering and banging of doors, then many loud cracking sounds, and after that... nothing. She waited, sure that it was too good to be true, dreading the return of the slovenly balding fat creep with the long pointy nose, crooked teeth, and far too much ear hair.

The girl shuddered in revulsion, her flesh crawling at the memory of his calloused touch, his unkempt fingernails, unable to get the stink of his breath - which seemed to hover long after he was gone - out of her nose.

When Ratface didn’t return, she was certain they had all gone. She would have been relieved, but unfortunately he had left her chained by one ankle, shackled to the concrete pillar. Wondering if anyone would find her or if she would die alone in the basement from starvation, she began to sob...

**~o0o~**

The stolen Russian freighter crested over the storm surge as lightning lit up the decks, water streaming from the bow of the vessel. The ship dipped as it tilted into the valley of the next wave and many Snatchers lost their dinners while the Lycans jeered at their weakness.

Storming the fortress proved much easier than the Dark Lord had imagined. The iron gates crumpled like tissue paper in the hands of the Giants, and the Aurors who were stationed to monitor the prisoners were no match for the Dark Lord’s forces. The lucky ones fell to the Snatchers’ killing curses. Those who were not so lucky screamed as they were torn apart by the Werewolves and the Trolls.

There were barely a few more than two hundred Dementors hovering around the ancient keep, far too few; the Dark Lord was puzzled at the turn of events. Scores of the wraiths hissed at the intruders and vanished, heading for London to answer the heed of the Dark Witch, abandoning the rest to their fate.

Those that remained gathered near the Rune-Wall as the Dark Lord approached, and bowed before him. Only a wizard could release them from the magic which bound them to this fortress, allowing them access to human souls beyond the walls of Azkaban, and the ones which stayed had made their choice. Voldemort’s features broke into an evil grin. At least, of those Dementors which he had numbered, the Dark Lord and the Dark Witch were evenly matched.

As the prisoners were released, the Dark Lord counted his supporters. Antonin Dolohov grinned and bowed to his Master, as did Thorfinn Rowle. Mulciber and Travers were shaken awake, their eyes widening in surprise as they prostrated themselves, begging forgiveness for their failures. One the Dark Lord presumed to be Nott’s son was dragged from his cell, screaming for mercy.

Rabastan Lestrange and his brother Rodolphus stood straight and tall with thin smiles on their lips as they re-pledged their troth. Finally the Dark Lord reached the cell of the one he had sought out the most - the one who would help him raise his Army of the Dead.

Bellatrix Lestrange stretched and yawned, gazing languidly at the Dark Lord when one of the trolls ripped her cell door from its hinges.

“What took you so long?” she purred, batting her eyelashes as a smile crept to her lips. “I’ve been waiting for you...”

Voldemort chuckled softly and shook his head. Bellatrix was ever the same, her Dark libido undaunted by years among the Dementors.

“What of Lucius’s son - the one known as Draco?” inquired the Dark Lord, “I was given to understand that he too had been sent to Azkaban, but he is not to be found.”

“The Minister took him,” Bellatrix cackled and leered, “Apparently that witch has had designs on Lucius for years. She obtained his son’s release some weeks ago. She bribed the Aurors on duty... No doubt Lucius belongs to her now.”

Voldemort chuckled again and nodded. “He does indeed... Lucius and his son shall meet the same fate as all who have betrayed me then,” the Dark Lord sneered. “And Rookwood?”

“He was the first to go to her side when she claimed him as one of her own,” Bellatrix replied.

The Dark Lord frowned. That was a shame; Rookwood had been one of his best operatives. Still, he would have been useless as a spy this late in the game.

The rest of the prisoners were released and added to the ranks of the Snatchers. One of them was making a fuss though and broke formation, falling at the Dark Lord’s feet.

“Please, my Lord,” the once quite handsome fellow begged, his golden curls now bedraggled and frayed, “I have skills... I can be much more useful as a Death Eater. I’m... I’m quite good at Obliviation Charms and Interrogations.”

**~o0o~**

Bellatrix smirked at Wormtail as she strode through the fortress by his and the Dark Lord’s side.

She could see the change in the Rodent, wrought by his claiming of Power. He wasn’t the weak little thing she had surmised him to be when he had begged to join the ranks of the Death Eaters, offering up the Potters as the price of admission. Like herself and their Master, he seemed quite at ease walking among the Dementors.

Bellatrix decided that Wormtail would make a far better General than the coward Lucius, or Severus, whom she had always suspected to be a traitor. Bellatrix did not begrudge the Rat his status, as the Dark Lord had finally agreed to take her as his Dark Consort when they returned to the Mainland.

**~o0o~**

The Minister had just placed an order for 20 collectible plates featuring Puppies - they weren't Poodles, but they would do - from Spode’s Magical Division by owl when the first memo from the DMLE arrived.

London was under attack. Scowling, Minister Umbridge decided that Muggle London could hang for now. She had already warned the Prime Minister of potential terror attacks by Voldemort, and he had assured her that as long as he himself was protected, he could turn any such situation into a political advantage for them both.

She was certain that at this very moment Azkaban was also under attack, but Minister Umbridge sighed in relief, secure in the knowledge that Lucius’s son was safe at her home, still recovering from the withering effects of the cold, damp, and malnutrition. 

Fortunately, the effects of the Dementors didn’t seem to have damaged his mental state greatly. Draco had apparently been sustained by his fury and hate for Harry Potter, which had overridden his fears and despairs.

The Minister was surprised at how little the Dementors affected herself anymore. Upon her last visit to Azkaban, her Patronus had sputtered and vanished, but she found that she no longer required it. Dolores almost felt at home amongst the Dementors. She tapped one of the rune-stones which she had taken from the Auror sentry at Azkaban - whom she had bribed on her last visit - with her wand, knowing that the Dementors would answer her call.

Voldemort’s timing couldn’t have been more serendipitous, playing right into her hands. The blame for the Inferi in the maze would easily be attributed to Voldemort by all. And soon the DMLE would belong to Dolores as well.

**~o0o~**

Harry woke up in the middle of the night gasping for air, his scar on fire, his heart thudding against the wall of his chest.

Hermione bolted upright in alarm when she heard him. Despite her sleeping potion, nightmares of being eaten alive by walking corpses had woken her already. It was well after midnight and she had just been thinking of asking Madam Pomfrey for a Dreamless Sleep potion when she heard Harry.

“Harry, are you alright?” she asked worriedly.

“Voldemort... H...he’s taken Azkaban! I need to talk to Dumbledore.”

Madam Pomfrey was woken by her monitor. She bustled into the Hospital Wing and made a beeline for Harry Potter’s bed. Harry couldn’t be happier when he saw her.

“Mr Potter... what are you doing awake?” Madam Pomfrey peered at Harry with bewilderment. “That sleeping potion should have kept you asleep...”

“I need to speak to Dumbledore right now!” said Harry, interrupting her. “It can’t wait till morning - it’s urgent!”

Madam Pomfrey hesitated, but she could see the conviction in Harry’s eyes. “Very well Mr Potter. I’ll inform the headmaster at once.”

Ten minutes later, Dumbledore was sitting at Harry’s bedside, his brows knitted in consternation as he listened to Harry recounting his vision. Hermione gasped and shivered when she heard what else Harry had seen in his dreams.

“... Voldemort... He’s taken Azkaban!”

“As I expected he would.” Dumbledore nodded as he stroked his long silvery beard. “It was just a matter of time.”

“But that’s not even the worst of it sir...” Harry looked stricken as he recalled what he’d seen. “They left a muggle girl locked up in the basement of a manor when they left - we have to rescue her right now...”

“Harry, you are going nowhere...” the headmaster said firmly.

“But sir...”

“I am very sorry Harry,” Dumbledore interjected. “But you have dealt with more than your fair share of harrowing circumstances in the last 24 hours as it is. I shall look into this myself... Can you tell me the location of the manor?”

Harry closed his eyes and thought for a moment, trying to remember what he’d seen in Voldemort’s mind. Voldemort had departed for Inverness, but from where? His eyebrows shot up in surprise when it suddenly came to him.

“It’s not far from Hermione’s aunt’s house... across the bay, on a hill not far from Corfe Castle.”

“What?” Hermione gasped. “Are you sure Harry?”

“Yeah...” Harry nodded. “Very sure!”

“Excellent Harry! Thank you!” Dumbledore stood up abruptly. “Don’t worry... we’ll find the girl and make sure that she is safe and sound...”

“Will you tell me as soon as you’ve found her? ... Please?” Harry beseeched. “I can’t go back to sleep until I know...”

Looking very distressed, Madam Pomfrey interrupted, “Mr Potter, I don’t think that is wise - you desperately need sleep...”

Dumbledore held up his hand, raising his eyebrows at Pomfrey. She quieted and let Dumbledore speak his piece.

“Poppy, under the circumstances, I quite understand Harry’s concern... Please, allow him to remain awake for the time being. I shan’t be long after all...”

And true to his word, an hour later Dumbledore returned, carrying a sleeping teenage girl in his arms...

**~o0o~**

Albus Dumbledore had the worst headache he could recall having in some years - the worst one since the night Lily and James Potter had been murdered. He almost asked Poppy for a pain potion, but he needed his wits about him. A hot cup of Chamomile Tea would have to suffice.

Dumbledore didn’t even know why he had the headache. It was not as if he had been surprised by last night’s turn of events.

He reread the _Daily Prophet_ article and sighed again. Dumbledore considered releasing Rita Skeeter and forcing her to give evidence under Veritaserum to the Wizengamot, though it would likely be a futile endeavour as the Minister had turned the Wizengamot against him. 

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes as he read between the lines and considered the implications of the slight change of tone of the Ministry's Mouthpiece. The current articles, while clearly still favouring the Minister’s views, were written in a much more straightforward manner. It was becoming increasingly evident that there was far more to the “Gossip Columnist” and unregistered animagus than met the eye.

**~o0o~**

Rita was hopeful when Dumbledore entered her cell the morning following the Third Task. She hadn’t been expecting to see Dumbledore at all anytime soon; perhaps he was in a more reasonable mood. Rita’s hope turned to puzzlement though when the Headmaster of Hogwarts was followed into the room by Severus Snape,

“Good morning Ms Skeeter,” Dumbledore began amiably enough, “I am going to ask you a few questions, and how you answer them could go a long way to assuaging my concerns and ensuring your timely release. Professor Snape has kindly agreed to provide some Veritaserum to aid you in providing truthful details if necessary.”

That wasn’t good. Not good at all.

“Really Dumbledore, surely you don’t think that I am in a position to lie to you...”

“Do not play games with me Ms Skeeter...” Dumbledore cut across her, his tone becoming colder as his piercing blue eyes bored into hers, “You are a remarkably good Occlumens; skilled enough to protect your secrets, but not at all adequate enough to hide the fact that you are a liar... a very well paid liar.

“The question which comes to mind is who is actually paying you? The focus of your propagandistic ‘gossip columns’ seem to have rather a lot of political import for someone alleging to be more interested in celebrity worship....”

The hairs on Rita’s neck rose; she licked her lips nervously. Surely the Headmaster was speculating. She would have to bluff as much as she could, but her options were running out.

“So tell me Ms Skeeter, how long have you been an Unspeakable? When did you begin working directly for Minister Umbridge? And how much do you know about the Minister’s connection to the attempts on the Potters’ lives?”

Rita’s blood ran cold and her breath quickened in fear. It was impossible for Dumbledore to know, yet the directness with which he asserted the “questions” was authoritative. She swallowed anxiously and replied truthfully.

“You won’t need the Veritaserum. I'll tell you all I know,” she gasped as her eyes widened, “But whatever you do, please - you can’t release me - or blow my cover while the Minister is in power. If you do, I’m as good as dead...”

**~o0o~**

It had been a long night for Fleur, but Dora had stayed by her side as she moaned and thrashed, fighting the wracks of pain caused by the reknitting of the bones in her legs.

It was true that Madam Pomfrey could “mend bones in seconds” for nice clean breaks, but too many bones had been shattered by the Gorgon’s tail, and they’d had to be removed and regrown overnight. 

Fleur was sleeping soundly now as the bones had finally completed growing shortly before dawn, and Madam Pomfrey had felt that it was finally safe to give her a sleeping draught. The Potters had both refused to go back to sleep, and kept Dora and Fleur company through the night.

“Now, how about the rest of you get some sleep?” said Pomfrey firmly. “Tonks, you’re welcome to take a cot next to Miss Delacour’s.” 

Harry blinked his red bleary eyes; he was wondering how the muggle girl was doing, and his stomach rumbled as he spied the rays of the morning sun peeking over the top of the mountains and streaming in through the window. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, having been too anxious for lunch or the feast just before dusk. 

“Er... I dunno, I’m famished now. Maybe after we’ve had some breakfast,” said Harry. “How about you Hermione, Dora? ... and what about the muggle girl?”

“I’m afraid that the poor dear is being kept sedated for the time-being Mr Potter - she has suffered some severely traumatic experiences. More than that I cannot say - and Professor Dumbledore has left strict instructions that this is to remain top secret... Not even your friends can know!”

“Of course,” said Hermione quickly. “It wouldn’t be good at all for it to get out that there’s a muggle girl at Hogwarts.”

“You can say that again!” muttered Dora.

“Yeah... what Hermione said,” Harry agreed. 

“Very good then...” Madam Pomfrey brusquely shifted gears to the other topic at hand. “Now how about that breakfast... and then I simply _**must**_ insist that you all get some sleep once you’ve finished.”

The Potters and Dora all nodded their assent. Several minutes later Madam Pomfrey wheeled a trolley into the ward, piled high with poached eggs, boiled eggs, scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, ham, chips, baked beans, toast, crumpets, pots of jam, steaming bowls of porridge and a pot of tea. 

Harry chortled at the excessive amounts of food. But as it turned out, the food on the trolley was quickly demolished as the three of them were all starving. Just after they had finished eating, Hedwig swept into the hospital wing and dropped the morning paper on the bedside table. Harry stroked Hedwig’s feathers and gave her a crumpet.

He picked up the _Daily Prophet_ and sighed, having more or less expected the headline to read exactly as it did:

**TERROR IN LONDON AND THE FALL OF AZKABAN**

**DMLE HEAD SACKED**

Hermione scowled when she spotted a smaller headline just under the fold:

**You-Know-Who Behind Inferi Attack at the Triwizard Tournament**


	39. Harmonic Resonance

Sirius stood on the overgrown front lawn of Black Manor, taking in the view. He’d only seen it once as a child when his mother Walburga had brought him to visit his cousins and Uncle Cygnus. It was much the same, though there was more ivy and moss crawling up the red brick walls than he could recall. And the grounds had really gone wild without anyone to upkeep them over the years.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the fragrance of hyacinth and rose. Grinning, he turned to his companion, who appeared to be mildly unsettled.

“One day this’ll be all ours Remus,” said Sirius. “But for the moment it’s perfect as a headquarters for the Order. So what say we have a look inside then? ... see how much work needs to be done to make it habitable again.”

“I’d say proceed with caution Sirius,” Remus retorted, taking another deep sniff himself. “The manor may not be as entirely uninhabited as it may appear.”

“Nonsense! The charms warding the estate may not be what they were, but they’re enough to keep it from discovery by muggle squatters.”

“Who said anything about muggle squatters?” Remus raised one eyebrow. Sirius looked a bit disconcerted.

“What? Do you really think that wizard squatters would take up residence without shoring up the wards? There’d be some sort of sign.”

“I’m just saying...” Lupin’s moustache twitched wryly. “You might want to change into your canine form and take a sniff for yourself.”

“Hmmm... I think I’ll let you be our nose for now, Remus. But maybe you’re right... caution is the better part of valour after all!”

Sirius took his wand out as he slowly opened the front door of the manor. Glancing around inside, seeing no-one, he beckoned Remus to follow him in. Warily the two wizards crept through the house, searching room by room. 

It was a bit dusty and cobwebby, but Sirius noted with some satisfaction that the furniture and paintings were all covered with white linens. And no doubt charms had been cast to prevent them from succumbing to rot and woodworm. There was nothing that a few house elves borrowed from Hogwarts couldn’t fix within a few hours of cleaning.

Remus halted outside the entrance of one of the manor’s many parlours and gestured to Sirius to remain silent. He pointed to the other side of the entryway. Sirius understood. On Remus’s mark Sirius quietly entered the room, his wand at the ready while Remus covered him. 

Sirius’s eyes widened in surprise as he stared down the witch’s wand pointed directly at him. For a moment they both stood there, wands pointed at each other while Remus looked on with some trepidation. Slowly they all lowered their wands.

“Narcissa!? What are you doing here?” Sirius looked perplexed.

“This is my childhood home... I have every right to be here. What about you?”

“But... I don’t understand...”

“Did Dumbledore not tell you? I am parting ways with my husband... You didn’t think I’d remain in his house did you?”

“Well... No, but...”

“Where else did you think I would go?” Narcissa snapped. “Andromeda’s? You should know that I’ve not spoken to her in many years - her daughter works with you does she not? ... And surely Severus would have mentioned that he visited me here not so long ago?”

“Er... no...” Sirius swallowed uncomfortably, then sighed. “Severus and I don’t chat much...”

Remus snorted, his moustache twitching mirthfully at his companion’s understatement. Sirius rolled his eyes and continued as if he hadn’t heard.

“...Just because Severus and I have more or less buried the hatchet doesn’t mean that we have tea-parties and share gossip after all.”

“No... I suppose not.” Narcissa’s demeanor softened. “Anyway, why have you come Sirius?”

“Well... I _**had**_ planned to take up residence one day,” Sirius retorted, smiling. “But never mind that Narcissa. I can always buy my own estate - heaven knows that I can afford it. In the meantime however, I had suggested to Dumbledore that this would be the perfect headquarters for the Order...”

“Oh!” Narcissa interjected, raising her eyebrows. “By all means - that can certainly be arranged. I am more or less a member now... and I must admit, I could use the company.”

“Splendid!” beamed Sirius. “Now that’s settled, perhaps a drink to celebrate? I’m sure there must be some wine or brandy about.”

“Of course Sirius... Please sit! Mr Lupin? ... some for you too?”

“Er... alright then. That’s very kind of you Madam Black.” 

“Please... no formalities are necessary between us. Narcissa will do...”

“Very well,” Lupin smiled politely as he seated himself in one of the plush armchairs, “...and Remus is good enough for me...”

**~o0o~**

“I admit, I rather enjoyed my job at the _Prophet_ , and embellishing the truth for Dolores, but I’m no blood purist. It was just another job for me.”

“Perhaps the veritaserum Headmaster...?” Snape narrowed his eyes at the cagey woman with brassy curls.

“Let us give her the chance to explain, Severus. Ms Skeeter is no longer a prisoner after all, but a refugee seeking asylum,” Dumbledore retorted calmly before taking another sip of tea. “This is a conversation over lunch, not an interrogation.”

Rita licked her lips nervously. The headmaster’s gentle demeanor and pleasantries aside, Rita knew better; she was still being tested by a master of manipulation - not quite the old fool she had long taken him for. Rita smirked inwardly, realising that Dolores had finally met her match.

“You have to understand,” Rita began, “much like the DMLE, the Unspeakable Office is further split into sub-departments, each of us with our own need-to-know-only directives. I work for the sub-department of Archives and Propaganda, so our department knows a bit more than those who work in Research and Development, or Magical Artifact Storage, let’s say... but we don’t know everything.”

“Dolores is Chief of Operations - their focus is Interrogations, Intelligence gathering, and Assassinations, or doing whatever other Dirty Business the Ministry needs done. But Operations runs the whole show - nobody _**dare**_ crosses that lot - that means that Dolores is Head of the Department of Mysteries... 

“It’s worth pointing out that most of Operations - including Dolores - are Blood Purists... Dolores moved into the top position about five years ago after the previous Head of the Unspeakable Office died under mysterious circumstances. Shortly after that, she maneouvred her way into the DMLE as a mole by taking a position as Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office.

“And...well... as you know, Dolores eventually wangled her way into a position as Fudge’s Senior Undersecretary when his previous Deputy mysteriously got ill. I can’t provide direct evidence for the fact that Dolores orchestrated the attack on the World Cup and the sacking of Fudge... or contracted out the hit on the Potters during the Triwiz, but she’s really the only one who could have. 

“She’s bloody ruthless - like a little Voldemort herself - but Dolores has got a lot more self-control than he has - and I daresay more cunning too. And she’ll do anything to achieve her goals.”

“Sub-departments of propaganda and assassinations? This all sounds highly... _illegal,”_ Severus said coldly with raised eyebrows. “Why have no Unspeakables ever approached the DMLE?”

“Because the DMLE can’t protect us. Weren’t you bloody listening?” Rita snapped, rolling her eyes. “And anyway, according to the Unspeakable Office’s Charter, we can only speak up when ordered to by the Minister.”

“We’re independent of the DMLE, and we’re _**supposed**_ to lie to everyone by Directive unless ordered by the Minister to tell the truth. And our charter even allows us to keep knowledge from the Minister unless he or she directly asks us a specific question - except for Dolores of course, as she is still the Unspeakable Office Head as well as being the Minister.” 

The headmaster took off his spectacles and massaged his temples, sighing as another headache came on. Secrets and Unaccountability. Dumbledore had run the Order of the Phoenix in a much similar manner for years, having long believed that it was necessary to play things close to vest in order to fight the Darkness. 

Trust had of course been an impossibility while Voldemort’s supporters operated with impunity at all levels of the Ministry and the Wizengamot - and it was apparently little better today, with Dolores herself now enjoying much of that support.

But Dumbledore had been blinded by his own arrogance for so long and kept far too much to himself, instead of sharing it at the very least with those closest to him. If Harry Potter had taught him anything since coming to Hogwarts, it was that Trust between allies was a two way street. And that open communication between friends was the only real way to counter the misdirection of those who sought Power for its own sake or to install a repressive regime.

Dumbledore sighed with some measure of relief, knowing that he had been taking great strides towards rectifying his own mistakes in recent years. In the short term though, some secrets were still best kept in as small a circle as possible. But never again would Dumbledore make the mistake of believing that he alone should know them all.

Perhaps it was time for that pain potion after all. With so many balls in the air, Dumbledore needed some relief from the migraine if he was to be able to maintain his concentration. There was simply too much to do, and so little time. 

He needed to confer with the Potters at the earliest opportunity to make arrangements for the summer - discuss things with Amelia - make plans for the Order meeting - safely send the students home from Hogwarts, the Hogwarts Express seemed like too easy a target while the Minister had Voldemort to blame things on - reach out to Horace... 

Then there was the matter of the muggle girl. Dumbledore just didn’t have the heart to simply obliviate the girl and send her on her way; he of all people knew intimately how damaged the victims of such traumatic events could become if the underlying cause of the trauma was dealt with improperly...

**~o0o~**

As Hermione drifted into consciousness behind the curtain in the hospital wing, she snuggled closer to Harry, sighing happily at the sound of his peaceful breathing. As she lay there, an arm around Harry, her head on his shoulder, she also began to hear snatches of conversation from the other side of the curtain.

“...but Albus, we simply don’t have the resources... I’ve healed her injuries, but she needs a mind healer...”

“And I can certainly appreciate that Poppy. Unfortunately, you know as well as I that we cannot bring in someone from St Mungo’s, as much as we both would wish that we could... And I refuse to allow the girl to be lost in the system of the NHS’s Mental Health Service. 

“Not only for her sake - Mr Potter would never forgive me if I allowed that to happen... I couldn’t forgive _myself_... And the fact is that they are simply incapable of dealing with someone who has witnessed our world - she might end up confined in an asylum...”

“...but Obliviation...”

“...is merely a bandaid Poppy - a temporary fix. While it might remove the memories from the physical pathways of the brain, the memories remain buried in the soul... later to return full force in a firestorm of chaos and pain. No... that is not an option in this case.”

“Well - if you have any suggestions Albus, I’m all ears...”

“For the moment, she is to remain in the isolation ward over the next few days until I have held the Order meeting and seen all the students safely home. Then we shall see... The girl will be perfectly safe here with us for the summer while we work on a solution...”

Hermione felt Harry stirring, his arm clutching her a bit tighter, kissing her bushy head, and knew that he had just awoken. 

“What are they talking about Hermione?” he whispered.

“The girl...” Hermione whispered back. “They’re not sure what to do with her. Madam Pomfrey thinks she’ll need a mind healer. Dumbledore wants to look after her here...”

“Well, that’s good then, isn’t it? ... for her I mean?”

“Yes, there’s really nothing else they can do right now... they can’t take her to St Mungo’s. But it’s very dangerous Harry! If anyone found out...”

“Yeah... I understand that...” A note of exasperation crept into Harry’s voice. “But we’ve got t’do _something_ Hermione. Her parents were probably murdered by Wormtail. We can’t just leave her all alone...”

“Of course not Harry! I agree... I just wish there was something we could do to help...”

“And you may yet have a chance to do so...” said a warm voice. 

The Potters started and turned pink when they saw Dumbledore’s head poking through their curtain.

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” Dumbledore said meaningfully, winking as he took a seat at the Potters’ bedside. “I expect that the company of those her own age - especially of those with a foot in both the muggle and wizard worlds - would be of benefit to her recovery...”

“Do you know her name yet?” asked Hermione, feeling a bit uncomfortable about referring to the girl impersonally.

“Ah... indeed,” Dumbledore replied. “By all indications, it would appear that her name is Watts... Jennifer Watts, age fifteen. And I believe you will both be getting a chance to know Miss Watts and assist in her recovery this summer... should you agree to do so.” 

“Of course we’ll help!” said Harry. “And if Jennifer needs a place to stay with people to look after her, she can live at Number Twelve with us...”

“That is something I have been meaning to discuss with you and Mrs Potter, Harry. There is no question about you going back to London in a few days time, but I was rather hoping that you would both consent to returning to Hogwarts for the summer...”

Harry and Hermione both looked stunned. After the moment of shock wore off, they both started to speak at once. Dumbledore put his hand up to quiet them.

“I have some things to attend to,” said the headmaster, “and this is not the most appropriate place for this discussion. Meet me in my office after dinner, and we will finish this conversation at that time.”

**~o0o~**

Dumbledore beckoned the Potters to be seated when they entered his office. The headmaster raised his eyebrows when Tonks followed them in. Of course she would be with them he reminded himself, she was after all their escort. He just hoped the Potters wouldn’t feel too awkward about Tonks’ presence, given the personal direction the discussion would most likely be taking.

The headmaster steepled his fingers and smiled, his eyes twinkling as he regarded the students patiently waiting for him to begin. But he felt his face growing warm as he pondered how best to start the conversation.

Fawkes fluttered his wings and uttered a soft musical note of encouragement. Feeling all eyes expectantly upon him, Dumbledore sobered slightly as he considered the dark tidings that required him to make the odd request. He cleared his throat and began.

“Thank you both for coming tonight, Harry, Mrs Potter... and to you as well Miss Tonks. I suppose I should begin by expressing my delight that you, Harry, and your wife and the rest of the Champions are safely still among us at the conclusion of the Tournament.

 

“And I should also express the gratitude of myself, Professor Sprout, Headmaster Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime for the solidarity and bravery displayed by the both of you. Indeed along with Miss Delacour, Mr Krum, and Mr Diggory, you have all demonstrated the courage and generosity necessary for the bonds of friendship which will see us all through the dark times ahead of us.” 

Dumbledore sighed, his features taking on a more grave expression. “I would that these ties had been forged under better circumstances, but I could not be more proud of you both and the other Champions. And I suppose I would be remiss not to congratulate you Harry for being the Finalist of the Tournament... though given the situation, I don’t doubt that you feel that commiseration is more appropriate.”

The headmaster paused a moment. Harry swallowed and met Dumbledore’s eyes, feeling an odd jumble of emotions. Hermione squeezed his hand comfortingly.

“Thank you Sir! You’re right... I’m just happy that we all made it through alive - I really don’t care who won.”

“Indeed,” the Headmaster replied softly, “That is why I am especially proud of you Harry. You not only found the Courage and Fortitude necessary to see your own way through these deadly tasks, but you also displayed Leadership, Kindness, and Generosity of Spirit, seeing everyone safely through the tournament.

“And as I have already stated, these are the qualities we shall all need in abundance in the times we face ahead of us. You have displayed these qualities... and _much_ more - and that is why I find myself in the position of requesting that you remain at Hogwarts this summer... despite the dangers it may present.”

Harry and Hermione both leaned forward slightly in anticipation, eager to sate their curiosity. Dora was chewing a fingernail, perplexed. This was the first she’d heard of it... she supposed that Dumbledore hadn’t told any of the Order about his plans yet.

“Many people witnessed what happened above the maze Harry...” The headmaster’s gaze caught Harry’s eyes again. “But of all the witnesses, I believe that I may be the only one who has an inkling of what actually occurred.”

“Sir? So... er... was it really our Patronuses that did it then?” Harry glanced at Hermione.

Despite their practice with their Patronuses, and their hopes, neither of them had really expected to actually destroy the Dementors. They had been as surprised as everyone else at the Dementors’ obliteration... just as they had been astonished at the ability of their Patronuses to annihilate the Inferi. 

 

Harry peered questioningly back into the headmaster’s eyes, hoping that Professor Dumbledore would have some answers for their unspoken quandary. He allowed the headmaster to reach into his mind for the answers which he himself could not find.

The headmaster smiled in satisfaction, his cheeks reddening at the confirmation he found. His eyes twinkled again as he steeled his nerves. This conversation would no doubt prove to be even more embarrassing for all involved than the one shortly following the Yule Ball.

“Well... this is indeed an awkward position for a Headmaster to be in... Let me explain. Harry, you and your wife did in fact generate a dual Patronus charm. A most powerful, and most unusual form of Patronus charm - a charm fueled by a most potent Love - and perhaps a bit more...

“A very odd series of events occurred during dinner recently, and also shortly before dinner several months ago... a magical ‘power surge’ of sorts caused some mild shaking, and the lights to go out in Hogwarts - not to mention giving the house elves a few chandeliers, lamps, crystal vases, and mirrors to repair...”

Harry and Hermione both turned crimson in embarrassment and squirmed guiltily in their seats as the headmaster pushed forth.

“In any case, it would appear that your... erm... _exploits_ in the watery crystalline environment conjured by the Room of Requirement transferred the magic released by said exploits throughout the foundation of Hogwarts itself.”

Dora looked puzzled, not sure what Dumbledore was on about. Harry’s eyes grew as big as saucers and he grinned at Hermione, who appeared astounded at having been so close to the mark.

“Blimey Hermione! You were absolutely right...” Then, turning back to Dumbledore, Harry explained excitedly, embarrassment temporarily forgotten. “After that first time, Hermione reckoned that the water and the crystal chamber of the fairy grotto might’ve acted as a sort of magical conductor...” 

“Indeed, in a manner of speaking, much as if an electrical charge had been introduced to a pool of saltwater...” the Headmaster replied.

“But how does that explain what our Patronuses did Professor?” asked Hermione, still perplexed.

“It does not,” the headmaster responded, “That only explains how the... er... erm... _Sex-Magic_ was so easily transferred throughout the entire castle...”

Dora couldn’t help it. Her eyes boggled in shock and she clapped a hand to her mouth in a failed attempt to muffle her squeak. She turned as red as a cherry as she peered at the Potters, suddenly feeling like she was intruding on a private conversation. Harry and Hermione both grinned at her sheepishly. 

Dumbledore let the moment pass before speaking again, his own cheeks growing rosier by the minute.

“What happened to the Dementors can only be explained by the fact that somehow, the extremely high magical frequencies produced by your _loving_ sexual encounters, were amplified and multiplied a thousandfold by the strength of your bonds of affection for one another.

“Indeed, I was very puzzled by the strength of your Patronuses when you expelled the Dementors from Hogwarts during your third year...”

“But we weren’t even... er... erm... doing it then...” squeaked Harry. 

“We’d really only just realised how much we really loved each other then,” Hermione added. “It was the first time we’d ever properly kissed.”

“Quite!” Dumbledore nodded and raised his bushy white eyebrows. “I only expected as much. But I still had no explanation for the power levels which produced such potent Patroni... However, I have recently begun to formulate a working theory.”

The headmaster paused to see if they had a question, but the Potters held their tongues, eager for Dumbledore to continue. 

“It occurred to me, that it may have something to do with not just with the intensity and the high quality of your emotions - the ingredient which fuels most magical spells - but more importantly with the interaction between yourselves... the connection between each other which allowed the magic to circulate, building in frequency and intensity with each cycle...”

“Sort of like a feedback loop!” Hermione interrupted with a gasp. Harry felt a bit lost. But he kept quiet, knowing that Hermione would get around to explaining it to him.

“Yes Mrs Potter,” said Dumbledore, looking very impressed, “very much like a feedback loop...”

“But how...? I mean... what’s the connection between Harry and me that caused it?”

“Ah, well...” Dumbledore responded. “The reason - if I am correct - would be much the same as the reason that wands tend to work to their greatest effect when they are matched with the right individual...”

“Harry, _**you**_ were right too,” Hermione beamed, giving Harry a playful smack on his shoulder. This time it was her turn to explain the ingenuity of her partner. 

“Harry mentioned that Ollivander had told him that the ‘wand chooses the wizard’ ... Harry wasn’t sure that Ollivander meant it _literally_... just that the wand and its owner needed to be ‘compatible’ in some way.”

Dumbledore’s eyes lit up and he peered at Harry proudly. 

“Yes... yes indeed! Very much so! Anyway, to continue... You, Mrs Potter, and Harry, are apparently such a match in a very similar fashion...”

Dora, who was trying just as hard as Harry to follow the discussion, pulled her finger out of her mouth and finally interjected her own thought, trying to make sense of things.

“D’you mean like a Soul Bond?” asked Dora.

“Oh goodness no,” chuckled the headmaster. “Nothing quite so trite and literal... It has more to do with the frequency at which each partner resonates. When two people grow close to one another, their energy fields mingle, and when their frequency signatures match - or very nearly match - they tend to resonate with each other, or harmonise if you will. 

“And it is very rare indeed for most people to find a partner with whom they match so completely... which is what leads many to posit the literalisation of mythopoetic concepts such as ‘Soul Bonds’ ... ‘Meant-to-be-together’ is another such mythopoetic construct, but it more closely approximates an accurate description.

“In any case, to sum things up succinctly, the feedback created by the cycling of the resonant frequencies between Harry and Hermione Potter during their... engagements... and during their mutual spellwork, is what is amplifying the potency of the spells - particularly of those spells which are a reflection of the emotion powering it... such as the Patronus, which is the very embodiment of Joy.

“But what about the Dementors?” asked Harry. “Everyone says they’re impossible to destroy, even with a Patronus. I had a feeling that might be wrong if someone produced a powerful enough Patronus... 

“I more or less guessed that it might be possible when we were visiting Riddle’s home, but I wasn’t at all certain about it. And... and to be perfectly honest I never really expected that we’d actually be able to do it.”

“That requires a bit more instruction of magical theory, a bit of a history lesson, and a bit of inference to explain Harry,” said Dumbledore. 

“Let me begin by saying that Wizards - as living biological entities - are to be regarded as generators of magic. They are not like batteries to be filled and depleted, and magic does not fundamentally behave like electricity, though electricity itself can be viewed as a much lower order or frequency of magic... 

“As noted before - the magic that wizards produce is fueled by Emotion, thus putting a kibosh on the long debunked Magical Core Theory...”

“Magic is like the Force, isn’t it!?” Harry interrupted, a surge of exhilaration accompanying his sudden sense of understanding. Hermione’s eyes widened and she nodded, grinning at Harry.

“Yeah... that’s right,” said Dora, who was also experiencing a light bulb going off in her head, “You got it Harry!” 

Dumbledore peered at Harry, Hermione, and Dora in bewilderment, not getting the reference.

“Er... sorry sir,” said Harry, when he realised that Dumbledore didn’t know what he was on about. “It’s an idea from a muggle entertainment... a film called _Star Wars_. ‘The Force’ is sort of a primary ‘energy field’ which everything is built on - supposedly it flows between everything and is always present, but is also generated by all living beings...”

“Ah, yes Harry,” the Headmaster nodded, “Indeed. Magic follows Intent, and it can only do so because Magic is always extant, a priori, and always surrounds us - it is the fundamental form of energy from which the Universe is built. 

“The strength and power of magic spells are based primarily on Emotion, but the ability of a wizard to direct the flow of Magic is based on Will and Intent. That ability is hampered when the mind is unfocused or when the Will is weak.

“And when Wizards are physically ill, injured, impaired, or unhappy, they are less able to focus their Intent, their Emotion weakens, and they can sometimes lose their Will altogether - making it impossible for them to perform even the simplest of charms until such a time as they have recovered themselves. 

“However, that is not all there is to the matter. There is also Positive and Negative, Light and Dark...”

“Just like in _Star Wars_...” Harry grinned. Hermione giggled, she pounced proudly on her husband and kissed him on the cheek.

“Quite,” responded Dumbledore in amusement, “In any case, there are many frequencies of ‘Light,’ and it is not known if there is any upper limit. As I pointed out moments ago, electromagnetic fields can themselves be considered extremely low frequencies of magic.”

Hermione frowned thoughtfully; one thing was still bothering her.

“Why does magic still interfere with electricity then? I thought that energy had to be of similar wavelengths to cause interference,” she asked, “When Sirius and Remus installed a television and a stereo at Number Twelve, they had to magically enchant them so that they could operate with magic instead.”

Dumbledore considered the question briefly before responding.

“Now we are getting to the nub of it - the most plausible reason that your Patroni were able to actually destroy the Dementors when none have done so before.

“There was a wizard whose life spanned the turn of the century - skilled in both Alchemy and muggle engineering - who was snubbed by both the Wizarding world and the Muggle world for his ideas regarding the hierarchy of resonant frequencies, and the amplification and transmission of electricity and magic. His name was Nikola Tesla.”

“In his view, and in mine, resonant frequencies operating at ever higher and higher levels could produce powerful and _**unpredictable**_ effects hitherto _**undiscovered**_ by those working with lower orders of energy. 

“Higher orders of magical energy operate far above lower orders like electricity, but as electricity is still a form of magical energy, those higher energies can be of such intensity that they nonetheless create havoc with the lower energies in regions where the generation of magic is highly concentrated.... 

“The Ministry requires heavy amounts of shielding to be able to operate under Whitehall without disrupting London’s electrical power grid for miles around.

“You yourselves, in your _**loving**_ intimate encounters - and I cannot emphasise the importance of the word _**loving**_ enough - in the Room of Requirement generated magic of such high frequency and power that it interfered with the magic of Hogwarts. However, the magic of Hogwarts - with each ‘system reboot’ as it were - was able to adapt to it and absorb it, bringing up the levels of order and strengthening the magic of the entire school...”

“Like the Sword of Gryffindor...” Hermione gasped.

“...Hogwarts imbibes what makes it stronger...” Harry continued, his eyes shining. 

Hermione went on, as full gnosis began to flood her brain. “...and as the frequencies resonate at higher and higher rates, the mathematic level of the frequency and power must increase on some sort of logarithmic or exponential scale.”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore nodded at Hermione, “I myself, have only ever detected echoes of frequencies similar to those generated by yourselves in Europe at long dead ancient sites dedicated to witchcraft, and in a very few currently operational magical schools of witchcraft in the Orient where the power levels are very high.”

“I believe, Mrs Potter, that it is due to the very rare confluence of factors - the complete compatibility between the energy fields of Harry and yourself, the intensity and purity of your love for one another, your activities of a physical nature, your mutual spell practice, and that you both together cast your spells simultaneously, as _**One**_ \- that is why you were able to generate Patronuses of such high frequencies and intensity that they displayed _**hitherto unknown effects**_... and thus caused the destruction of the Dementors...”

The headmaster paused, and turned the deepest shade of red yet when he continued.

“And that is why I find myself in the _very_ uncomfortable position - as an Instructor charged with your safety and education - of asking you both to remain at Hogwarts for the summer, and of encouraging you to continue engaging in your rather... _erotic_ behaviours together in the Room of Requirement...”


	40. Trials and Tribulations: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more explicit version of this chapter is now available in _Moments in Love: The Steamy Version_.

Harry was stunned by how many of their friends were at Narcissa Black’s house when he and Hermione arrived by floo with Dora and Fleur. Besides the Twins, Ron, and Ginny, Luna, Daphne, Neville, and Viktor were also congregating in one of the parlours. The only ones missing were Parvati, Lavender, Seamus, and Dean.

“Hi Harry,” yelled Ron, grinning. “What took you so long?”

“What are you all doing here?” asked Harry, looking very puzzled.

“Our parents are all part of the Order, silly,” giggled Luna. “Except for Viktor...”

“My headmaster - he bring me here tonight,” Viktor interjected with a lopsided smile. “He say I should join - I am old enough. But I think because he does not vant to be by himself - all others from Durmstrang go home already... Though I vould stay here anyvay, for Lavender.”

“Oh... of course,” said Hermione. “Fleur is old enough too.”

“Oui,” said Fleur with a nod, smiling at Dora. “Dora invited me, and Papa, he already speaks wiz Dumbledore. He stays in France wiz Maman, but ‘e and Madame Maxime organise assistance for ze Order.”

“Bill and Charlie joined up,” said Ron, looking very glum. 

“Yeah... I know about that...” Harry gave Ron a funny look. “They joined up when they met Sirius and Moody at the World Cup - after the attack... Didn’t you know?”

“Er... not really,” Ron muttered. “I didn’t find out until Bill came to watch the Final Task with Mum and Dad.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “That’s because you weren’t paying attention Ron. Bill and Charlie were with Dad talking to Sirius and Moody about it outside the tent.

“We’re old enough and we tried to join too...” Fred growled.

“But Mum threw a wobbly - said we’re not to as we’re still in school...” said George with a sour expression, not noticing his mother entering the parlour.

“And I should think not!” snapped Mrs Weasley. “It’s bad enough that I have to worry about Bill and Charlie...”

“I don’t see why we can’t at least listen in on the Order meeting!” Fred gave his mother a mutinous glare. “It’s rubbish!”

Most of the others averted their eyes, sensing an argument building up. Neville looked extremely nervous. Luna was the only one who didn’t look away uncomfortably, appearing fascinated if anything. Hermione and Harry got the distinct impression that this wasn’t the first row of the evening between Mrs Weasley and her children on the topic. 

“And _**I**_ don’t see why Ron and I have to be left out just because we’re too young to join,” said Ginny heatedly. “Luna’s dad is letting her in on the meeting...”

“Yes! Well that’s up to Mr Lovegood isn’t it,” retorted Mrs Weasley, her voice rising. 

“If _**we’re**_ too young, then how come Harry and Hermione get to be in on the meeting?” moaned Ron. 

The fight was momentarily paused as everyone stared at Ron incredulously, including Mrs Weasley. Ginny opened her mouth, looking like she was just about to say something very rude to Ron. But Mrs Weasley, now in full dudgeon, got back into the thick of it.

“Because for one thing they’re both legally of age, even if they are bit young and I don’t like it,” she shouted. “I don’t get a say about them either. And for another, if anyone’s got a right to be in on things, it’s Harry. It’s all got to do with him, doesn’t it...” 

Apparently drawn by the commotion, Mr Weasley appeared in the doorway with Moody, Sirius, and Lupin.

“Molly, please...” said Mr Weasley. “They might as well sit in. Harry’s probably just going to tell them anyway...”

“We might as well just induct the lot of them then!” Mrs Weasley snapped. “Do you really want our children to be fighting Dark Wizards...?”

“And why shouldn’t they be prepared to fight Dark Wizards?” Sirius interjected sharply. “Do you think Death Eaters are going to give them a choice in the matter if they come calling?”

“Sirius is right Molly,” Moody growled. “Your kids might have to face Dark Wizards at some point whether you like it or not. We all are. They need to know what they’re facin’... They need to be prepared. Is that what you want? For them to face danger without knowin’ what it’s all about?”

“Of course not Alastor,” Mrs Weasley gasped. “But...”

“But nothin’...” Moody snapped. “That’s just how it is. Get used to it.”

Mrs Weasley quieted, and looked to Remus for support. But when he just raised his eyebrows at her, she knew that she had lost. When she turned back to glance at her children, Hermione and Harry could see the tears running down Mrs Weasley’s cheeks, all anger gone, trying hard not to lose it altogether. 

Hermione bit her lip, watching Mrs Weasley sadly. Harry swallowed, suddenly realising how much pain Mrs Weasley was in at the thought of losing her children. Mrs Weasley dabbed at her tears with a hanky and tried her best to muster a smile at the Potters.

“Sorry about all the fuss, Harry, Hermione,” said Mrs Weasley as she swept them both into a bear-hug. “It’s lovely to see you both again.”

“It’s good to see you too, Mrs Weasley,” Hermione squeaked, trying to catch a breath, unused to being on the receiving end of a hug as bone-crushing as one of her own.

“Hi Mrs Weasley,” said Harry, feeling relieved that the row was over and hoping that Mrs Weasley would cheer up a bit. Having finally arrived, Dumbledore entered the parlour, smiling warmly at everyone, eyes twinkling.

“Good! You’re here. Now we can get this thing started,” said Moody gruffly.

“Indeed, Alastor...” Dumbledore beckoned everyone in the parlour, as if he had expected all of the teenagers to be joining the meeting. “Well, if we’re all ready then, why don’t we join our gracious host at her table... Harry, Mrs Potter, if you would join me.”

The room quieted when they arrived, all eyes upon Harry and Hermione. Harry glanced around nervously at all of the people, many of whom he didn’t know. Hermione was more than a bit apprehensive too. 

“Its alright guys,” Dora whispered. “I’ll be right beside you.”

There was a long highly polished ebony table in the middle of the room with numerous chairs all around it. Dumbledore led the Potters and Dora to the end of the table and gestured for them to sit beside him. 

Molly Weasley looked a bit anxious as well. She was still having some difficulty getting used to being in the house of someone who had been an enemy for so long. Narcissa was a courteous host though, and Molly was on her best behaviour.

“If you would please be so kind Narcissa?” Dumbledore began, as he glanced down the lengthy table at many dubious faces. “Some here do not yet know the circumstances by which you have come to host us.”

Narcissa’s stomach tightened and she swallowed nervously. She looked to her cousin Sirius, and he gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

“I... My husband and I were betrothed at an early age,” Narcissa began. “There was a contract... For those too young to know, Marriage Contracts were once common among the Noble Houses. And though they are no-longer validated by the Ministry today, Contracts issued before times changed are still upheld. My father had pledged me to the Malfoys from birth, for a vast sum of money.”

Hermione bristled, eyes wide with shock. She couldn’t believe that such a barbaric practice could have taken place in modern Britain. Harry’s stomach churned in revulsion at the idea of an arranged marriage, bought and paid for. He felt like throwing up. It struck him as tantamount to slavery.

Fleur frowned and bit her lip. Daphne cast her eyes down, feeling humiliated, but glad that her own father had steadfastly refused Lucius Malfoy’s many offers to buy her for Draco. Luna and Ginny scowled, both nauseated by the very idea. 

“I did grow to love my husband,” Narcissa continued, “and at one time I shared his beliefs. We all did in those days... we were raised to believe in the superiority of our blood. But during the last war, I came to see the cruelty and suffering that such beliefs wrought. After my son was born, I had hoped to put it all behind us.

“At first, I begged my husband to withdraw from the company he kept. But he did not, and for some years I kept my tongue to myself. But gradually, we began to draw apart - especially after my son reached the right age for Hogwarts. I did not wish for Draco to grow up with the same beliefs that I and my husband had. 

“But... but as you know, my husband maintained his arrogant views, and passed them on to our son. When my son was duly sanctioned at Hogwarts for his assault against the Greengrasses first daughter, I came to realise that my hopes had been dashed... that Draco had passed the point of no return... and that my husband saw nothing amiss with our son’s actions.

“I finally sought a way out... and my solicitors found it. There was a clause buried deep within the contract... A clause which gave me the right to divorce after I had obtained a certain age...”

Her eyes glistening, Narcissa paused, and peered apologetically at Daphne and Mr and Mrs Greengrass.

“I... I am shamed by my own blood - my son. For his grievous offences I am truly sorry. Offering my home as a sanctuary for those who have been wronged by my husband and my son will never be payment enough. But it is the least I can do...”

Narcissa sat down abruptly and Sirius put his arm around her comfortingly.

Satisfied that Narcissa had assuaged the concerns of most, Dumbledore glanced around the table. He faced the largest gathering of Order members since the last war - many, many more than his Inner Circle. There were a large number of old members, and more than a few new faces, including the Greengrasses and Xenophilius Lovegood.

Dumbledore was very pleased to see Igor Karkaroff, who had made an Unbreakable Vow to demonstrate his commitment - truly remarkable. Dumbledore nodded his head gratefully at Severus Snape for his successful attempt at recruiting Igor. Finally Dumbledore brought the meeting to order.

“I should like to begin by giving Madam Amelia Bones the floor. She has some grave news to impart which will affect Mr Potter and his wife greatly. Amelia, if you would be so kind...”

Madam Bones adjusted her monocle, cleared her throat, and launched into her presentation, forgoing any pleasantries.

“As you all know by now, I have been summarily dismissed from my post as Head of the DMLE. The Minister managed to persuade the Wizengamot that I was at fault for the stationing of the Dementors at the conclusion of the Triwizard tournament... and that it was due to my negligence that Voldemort took Azkaban...”

Many members of the Order winced and cringed at the mention of Voldemort by name. But Madam Bones studiously ignored them and continued.

“Fortunately, there are still a number of Aurors who are loyal to me, and me alone. One of them has brought to my attention an interdepartmental memo which indicates that Warlock Potter is to be brought to trial for the destruction of Ministry Property... namely, 416 Dementors.”

A collective gasp of shock rose among those assembled. Harry slumped in his seat and groaned. He should have known that the Minister might try something like this. Hermione’s nostrils flared with anger.

“That’s outrageous!” Hermione fumed. 

“Bloody ridiculous is what it is,” snapped Sirius, “They’ll never be able to prove that a Patronus killed the Dementors. Everyone knows that’s impossible. I saw what happened to those wraiths, and I know that was no Patronus that did it...”

Harry felt a bit awkward. He wanted to tell Sirius what he and Hermione had learned through their conversation with Dumbledore the previous night. But he couldn’t say anything in the middle of an Order meeting as it was supposed to be a secret from all but a few key members of Dumbledore’s Inner Circle.

“It must have been some sort of coincidence.” Sirius continued to rage, “Something very strange had to have been happening at the same time. Maybe the Minister herself deployed some sort of secret weapon developed by Unspeakables to set Harry up. And how can anyone be held criminally liable for killing creatures which are legally determined ‘non-beings’ anyway...?”

Amelia Bones arched one eyebrow and sighed.

“The Minister is determined to at least give it a go, and given her sway, all she needs is five or six votes on the current Wizengamot to go her way. Some of the ‘wobblies’ may see that as a mere technicality Sirius...”

Sirius snorted, his face twisted in outrage, but he nodded, understanding all too well the trouble Harry faced.

“Right then. Well there’s only one thing for it Harry,” Sirius began, as he handed Harry a card, “You’ll need a lawyer, as Dumbledore won’t have any pull with the Wizengamot at the moment. Ragnok is the best. He’s a Solicitor Advocate for Gringotts and he’s done some occasional work for other members of the Order in a bind...”

Mundungus Fletcher had a coughing fit further down the table and Amelia’s eyes narrowed in distaste, as did Mrs Weasley’s.

“I thought solicitors only provided information and handled contracts and that sort of thing,” Harry whispered to Hermione, frowning in puzzlement. “Don’t I need a Barrister?”

“Solicitor Advocates are a special sort of solicitor Harry,” Hermione murmured back. “They’re allowed to represent their clients and make arguments before the Court. It’s a relatively new position which came into effect a few years ago.” 

“Blimey Harry,” Hagrid gasped, clapping Harry on the back, clearly intending it to be a comforting gesture. “Whoever heard o’ such a thing...? Tryin’ yeh fer doin’ somethin’ impossible fer any wizard to do. Don’ worry though. I’m sure yeh’ll get off... Obviously yeh didn’ do nothin’ yerself... ”

“Thanks Hagrid, I appreciate it...” Harry grimaced, wincing at Hagrid’s “comforting” pat.

“Oi! Watch it Hagrid, you don’t know your own strength sometimes...” Dora glared at Hagrid, peeling his dustbin-lid sized hand from Harry’s shoulders.

“Oh... er... right Tonks!” Hagrid’s face fell. “Sorry Harry!”

Harry relaxed considerably when Dora rubbed his shoulders where Hagrid had walloped him.

“Better...?” she asked.

“Loads, thanks Dora,” Harry replied. He grinned at Hagrid. “It’s alright Hagrid. I’ll be fine... just a bit stiff from the Third Task still,” he fibbed, not wanting Hagrid to feel badly. 

Hagrid’s features brightened. Hermione squeezed Harry’s hand, and smiled gratefully at Dora.

“I’ll be part of Harry’s escort,” Dora said firmly to Amelia Bones and Dumbledore. “I won’t put in my resignation until _**after**_ the trial and I get Harry back outta the Ministry safely. But I’ll need someone else I can trust who ‘asn’t resigned ‘in protest’ yet,” Dora narrowed her eyes angrily at Shacklebolt and Dawlish.

“Tonks, The Minister already suspects that we are too close to Amelia, and therefore too close to Dumbledore,” Shacklebolt sighed, “We would be useless to the Order as Ministry employees...”

“How about Auror Mulligan?” Madam Bones offered. “He’s still loyal to me, and he’s Auror Brixton’s partner... well, was Brixton’s partner before she took a leave to look after the Potters’ immediate families. But I am absolutely certain that Reynard still has standing in the Auror Corps.”

“Right then. He’ll do,” Dora agreed.

Madam Bones and Dumbledore exchanged glances; the Headmaster nodded his approval.

Harry let out a sigh of relief when the meeting moved on to the next point of business, arranging security for Mr Lovegood and the Quibbler, and for the School’s Board of Governors. Hermione and Dora quietly departed with Harry from the head of the table and went to sit with the rest of the teens. Hermione could tell from Harry’s pensive expression that something was still bothering him though.

“What’s up Harry?” Hermione quietly asked.

“Er... I was wondering why Madam Bones called me Warlock Potter. What’s that all about?”

Hermione’s eyebrows popped up in surprise. She’d never really thought about it. But it only made sense she supposed.

“Harry,” she began, sounding a bit breathless, “It’s because you’re the last Potter... You’re the Head of your House - a Warlock. All of the Pureblood families are treated as Houses with special privileges. The Heads of Houses have seats on the Wizengamot, which are filled either by themselves or their proxies. They’re the ones who vote on legislation and preside over State trials. That’s why Dumbledore was known as the Chief Warlock...”

“She’s right Harry,” Neville chimed in, having overheard. “One day I’ll be the Warlock of the Longbottom House... or at least I will be when Gran dies. She’s Head of House at the moment.”

“But that doesn’t make an sense,” said Harry. “I’m not a Pureblood...”

“That doesn’t make a difference Harry,” Hermione responded. “Most Wizards today aren’t Pureblood, including many members of the Houses. But the Houses were established centuries ago, and they still have a lot of status and wield a lot of power in Wizarding society regardless.”

“Oh!” Harry looked startled at the idea of being the Head of a House. 

He wasn’t entirely certain the he wanted the “privilege” bestowed upon his station. He never had placed much credence in that sort of thing. He hated it when people lorded their status and wealth over everyone else, and as far as he was concerned everyone should have equal say in how things were run. And if it meant that he was like the Malfoys, he wanted no part of it. 

Hermione could see what Harry was thinking written all over his face, and she rather felt the same way herself. But she couldn’t help thinking that Harry could one day use that status for Good... to help make changes in Wizarding society... make it more Democratic.

“How come Dad isn’t a Warlock then?” asked Ron. “I don’t understand. We don’t have any status or special privileges...”

“Actually he is a Warlock,” said George. “He even gets to write laws and stuff. He just never put any stock in that sort of thing...”

“...because Dad thinks it’s all rubbish,” Fred added. “He’s always stood up for the rights of muggleborn, and thinks that everyone should have equal representation in the Ministry and on the Wizengamot...”

“...and that’s why Dad never made it very high up the ladder at the Ministry,” George continued.

“...Which is why Percy’s being such a bloody git now,” Fred concluded.

“Oh!” said Ron as light dawned on him. “I get it... I thought it was only arseholes like the Malfoys who thought we were Blood Traitors.” 

Then Ron scowled at his brothers. “But how come nobody ever told me? I’m always the last to know everything...”

“Oh get over yourself Ron!” Ginny snapped. “I didn’t know either...”

Fred shrugged dismissively, but George piped up and tried to explain. 

“It’s probably because Mum and Dad never believed in that rubbish. I expect they didn’t want us to get swelled heads. The only reason Fred and I know, is because we’re always nicking the post to see if there’s anything interesting. Sometimes stuff comes addressed to Warlock Weasley.” 

“I wonder why nobody told me that I was a Warlock though...” Harry bit his lip, looking puzzled.

“Because I was planning on shepherding you through the process myself Harry...”

Startled, everyone turned around to see Sirius, who had apparently come up behind them partway through the conversation and overheard.

“One has to officially declare oneself Warlock and the Right to take a Seat on the floor of the Wizengamot during a full session,” Sirius continued. “After everything went south since the World Cup, there simply hasn’t been the opportunity. 

“And actually, your upcoming trial presents the best opportunity available since then. When you win - and with Ragnok in your corner, I don’t doubt that you shall - you should stand up and Declare yourself.”

“Are you going to be there?” asked Harry, feeling a bit anxious at the idea.

“Well, as a known associate of a ‘fugitive’ Werewolf, I thought it best to remain scarce,” Sirius sighed. “I’ll have a proxy filling in for me - which you’ll have to do yourself once you get out of the Ministry safely. But Warlock Greengrass will be there... He’s already offered to look out for you. 

“That was what I was coming over tell you actually... Well, that and to tell you that I won’t be joining you in London as Remus and I will be doing some work for the Order - Mad Eye’s going to join you though, as he’s got business in London anyway.”

“And I’ll be coming with you of course,” said Dora, grinning. “And Fleur’ll come along too if you don’t mind having her at your house for a few days. She can stay in my room with me.”

“Of course,” said Harry quickly, feeling much better already. 

“We don’t mind at all,” Hermione beamed.

Finally Dumbledore brought the meeting to a close, but unfortunately for Ron and Neville - who were both getting bored - Dumbledore remained with several of the professors, Sirius, and Lupin to discuss a few last details with Mr and Mrs Weasley, Mr Lovegood, Madam Longbottom, and the Greengrasses, for their ears alone. 

Harry and Hermione were a bit puzzled when Dumbledore revealed that the professors and the Potters would be remaining at Hogwarts for the summer. They were even more surprised when Madam Longbottom asked the headmaster to also allow Neville to return to Hogwarts for the summer out of concern for his safety. 

Dumbledore sighed but relented when Madam Longbottom refused to take no for an answer. Mrs Weasley stewed for several minutes. Finally, making what was clearly a difficult decision, she begged Dumbledore to keep her only daughter and youngest son safe at Hogwarts for the summer too. Of course, Luna decided that if Ginny was staying, then she wanted to as well.

For their part, Harry and Hermione were quite pleased that they would be having some company over the summer.

**~o0o~**

It was very late when Harry, Hermione, and Dora all tumbled out of the fireplace at Number Twelve. Fleur tittered when she gracefully stepped out of the green flames to see them all still coughing and wheezing as they dusted the soot off. Finally catching her breath, Hermione beamed and flung her arms around her mother, who was the only one who had stayed up to await their arrival.

“It’s lovely to see you again dear,” said Mrs Granger before giving Harry a hug and greeting Dora. 

“Mum, this is Fleur,” said Hermione. “She’s...”

“One of the Champions in the tournament. I remember from your letters darling. I’m delighted to meet you Fleur. Have you come to stay with us for a bit then?”

“Oui... I could not let my girlfriend come to London alone.” Fleur smiled brightly at Mrs Granger. “I am vairy pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Dora grinned, blushing when Fleur introduced herself as her girlfriend. When Harry yawned, Hermione’s mother wished everyone a good night, and soon they were all off to bed.

Hermione snuggled in Harry’s arms, pleased to be at home again, even if only for a week. Harry sighed happily, stroking Hermione’s golden curls, breathing in her minty fragrance as the tension of the evening faded. For a moment, he could almost forget the travails which lay ahead of him.

**~o0o~**

It was quite early in the morning and Minister Umbridge had just sat down to her first cup of tea. As she began to peruse the reports on her desk, there was a knock on the door before it opened slightly and a familiar face peeked in. When she saw the red hair and the enthusiastic features, Minister Umbridge broke into a winning smile.

“Ah, Mr Weasley, do come in... Thank you for being so prompt,” said the Minister in her most dulcet tones.

“Of course, Minister,” Senior Undersecretary Weasley eagerly responded. “What can I do for you today?”

“Mr Potter should be returning to Privet Drive by the end of tomorrow,” replied the Minister, “and I thought it wise to begin immediate preparations for his trial, so that we might send the Summons as soon as possible. I would like to have the Summons ready for Thursday morning.”

“I’ll get right on it Minister...”

**~o0o~**

Percy Weasley rubbed his hands together gleefully as he began preparing for the trial of Harry Potter. He didn’t care that it was still early Tuesday morning and that he had a large stack of Law Books in front of him. Percy only had till Wednesday evening to formalise the charges for the summons, and less than a week to prepare for the trial on the following Monday.

It had been Percy’s greatest ambition to be Minister for Magic for as long as he could remember, and he was determined to prove to Minister Umbridge that he was up to the challenge of being Senior Undersecretary. 

It had never been more clear that Harry Potter was a menace to society - stirring up trouble with the Merpeople, and telling that ridiculous tale about Kappa assassins - making a complete mockery of the Third Task by cheating and then utilising some sort of Secret Weapon to destroy the Dementors.

Percy should have seen it from the beginning, but he reminded himself that he had still been under the influence of his parents’ misguided teachings until he joined the Ministry

Now he realised that Harry Potter had been thumbing his nose at the rules and authority from his very first day in Hogwarts. And yet that old coot Dumbledore had rewarded Potter time and again for his disorderly behaviour. Without a strict adherence to rules there could be no Order and Chaos would reign supreme. 

Percy hoped that eventually he and the Minister could get rid of Dumbledore as well as Potter. It would be a real thumb in the eye to Dumbledore when Potter finally got what he deserved. 

And then there was Hermione Potter! What a disappointment she had turned out to be. Percy had high hopes for Hermione Granger in her first year, and then she had befriended that little hooligan, Harry Potter. Of course, as with Potter, Percy had been too blinded to recognise what a bad influence Potter had been on her.

And it hadn’t seemed like a big deal that she was a muggleborn at the time. But again, Percy now knew that it was his father’s muggle-loving ways which was holding the Weasley family back financially, and ruining the Weasley family name.

Percy frowned, wondering if he could find a means to put Hermione Potter on trial alongside her husband. Then he remembered that she had participated in the Third Task. The Triwizard Commission had found evidence all over the maze indicating her presence. Clearly she was guilty of aiding and abetting Harry Potter’s scheme to win at any cost.

Percy cracked his knuckles and began flicking excitedly through the Law Books.

**~o0o~**

Harry and Hermione woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs wafting through Number Twelve. Feeling very hungry, they showered quickly and dressed, then jogged down the stairs to the kitchen. Hermione’s mother was the only one up as everyone else appeared to be sleeping in.

Jean Granger glanced up to see her daughter and son-in-law grinning when they burst into the kitchen.

“Well, come on then, breakfast is ready,” Jean smiled back, “You’d better get a move-on before Dudley smells it and wakes up. That boy has lost a lot of weight and is looking much more fit, but he can still put the food away like there’s no tomorrow...”

“Thank you.” Harry beamed happily at Jean as he ate his breakfast, “I’m famished, M... er...”

All of a sudden Harry felt very awkward. He wasn’t sure what to call Jean Granger. Calling her “Mrs Granger” didn’t really seem appropriate anymore, as Hermione had told him that she was in the process of getting divorced. But he still felt a bit uncomfortable about calling her Jean... somehow it wasn’t quite like calling Lupin by his first name.

Jean Granger caught on immediately to Harry’s quandary. Harry was perhaps the kindest and most mature young man that Jean had ever known, and he made Hermione so happy. She just wanted to hug him and make all of his anxiety all go away.

“Why don’t you call me Mum dear!?” said Jean, hoping that she hadn’t stepped over a line.

Hermione’s eyes widened and she stopped eating a piece of bacon in mid-bite. Hermione sensed the wave of emotion surging inside of Harry, she glanced at him and saw his eyes glistening.

Harry gulped. He knew then, that was exactly what he wanted to call Jean Granger - her hugs felt like how he imagined hugging his own mother would feel. He had often wished that he had his mum back, even knowing that it was pointless wishing for such - but if he couldn’t have his own, he could at least share Hermione’s.

“Er... Yeah! I’d really like that,” Harry croaked. “Thank you.... thanks for everything - Mum.” 

Hermione beamed at her mother, sighing happily as she squeezed Harry's hand.

**~o0o~**

Petunia smelled the bacon and realised she had overslept. Fortunately it was too early for most teenagers to be awake and Dudley was still asleep. Petunia quietly crept down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. She was about to step through the entrance to the kitchen when she caught the scene.

Petunia witnessed everything. Her chest tightened and her stomach lurched. Petunia bit her quavering lip to stifle her tears and turned to go back up the stairs as quickly as she could. Not wanting to wake Dudley, she tiptoed quietly all the way up the staircase and locked herself in the bathroom on the fourth floor. 

Unable to contain herself any longer, Petunia began sobbing for Harry and Lily. An image of Vernon forced itself into Petunia’s mind and she began vomiting in the toilet.

**~o0o~**

Hermione whirled around in her seat when she sensed someone behind her. She had turned around and only just caught a glimpse of Petunia before she disappeared. Hermione really wanted to hug Harry and her mum, but it seemed like something was very wrong with Petunia. Hermione quickly ran to see where she had gone.

She spied Petunia at the top the stairs on the uppermost landing just as she entered the bathroom, and she heard the door click shut. Hoping that Mum and Harry would understand, Hermione dashed up the stairs and knocked on Auntie Joanne’s door. Yawning as she rubbed the slumber from her eyes, Joanne answered the door.

“What’s wrong dear?” Joanne asked, seeing Hermione’s distress. 

“It’s Harry’s aunt... Petunia. I think she’s ill. She just ran all the way up to the top floor and locked herself in the bathroom.”

Following her niece, Joanne ran up the stairs to the bathroom on the fourth floor. Hermione unlocked the door with an alohomora charm when they heard the retching sounds within.

Joanne didn’t much care for Petunia, as they had very different views on things, and Jean had told her of Petunia’s past with Hermione’s husband. But tears sprang to her own eyes at the sight of the sobbing, heaving woman hunched over the loo.

“Oh you poor dear...” Joanne said as soothingly as she could manage, reaching out to Petunia and gently rubbing her back.

Abbie Brixton opened her door rubbing her bleary eyes, wondering what all the hullabaloo was about. Her eyes widened when she heard the commotion above and she hurried breathlessly up the stairs. Seeing Petunia’s state, Abbie waved her wand with one hand and caught the medicine kit which flew from her room with the other.

“It’s alright you two, I can manage Petunia,” Abbie said kindly. “I know you haven’t seen each other in ages. Go on, off to breakfast both of you. I’m sure that Petunia will be alright in a bit.”

By the time Hermione returned to the kitchen with her aunt, Dora and Fleur were sitting at the table, drinking tea and coffee respectively with her mother and Harry.

“Mornin’ Hermione,” said Dora with a grin.

“Bonjour ‘Ermione.” Fleur put her coffee down and smiled.

“What’s going on?” asked Harry. “Trip to the loo?”

“Er... your aunt Petunia’s not feeling very well,” Hermione replied, still looking worried. “But Abbie Brixton is looking after her now.”

“Oh...” Harry frowned, wondering if Aunt Petunia was alright.

Everyone chatted amiably as they continued breakfast. After he’d finished, Harry took a deep breath, just about to mention the upcoming trial, and how Dora was going to escort him when Abbie entered the kitchen with Dudley in tow. Dudley’s face lit up to see Harry again. 

“I’ve put Petunia back to bed for now,” said Abbie. “She’ll be okay for the moment... Just go easy on her alright!?” Abbie looked pointedly at Jean and Joanne. “I think Petunia’s having a bout of PTSD - that ex of hers was a right monster. And... and I think she’s only just finally starting to come to terms with it...”

“Er... Of... of course we will,” said Jean, looking slightly ashamed of herself.

“I’ll pop by St Mungo’s later when Moody or Amelia get in,” Abbie continued. “One of the Mind-Healers there may be able to give me some advice. I wish I could do more, but it’s a bit difficult at the moment with us all having to stay under the Ministry’s radar.”

“I’ll make us a bit more breakfast then shall I?” said Hermione’s aunt, hoping to relieve the tension. “Who wants some bacon then... Dudley?”

“Yes please.” Dudley nodded eagerly, his face brightening. “I can help...” he offered.

“That’s alright dear. Why don’t you just sit down and have some orange juice - I’ll only be a minute”

“Hi Harry,” said Dudley, sitting down at the table. “Good to see you again.”

“You too Dudley,” said Harry, thinking that Dudley looked a bit sad. “Er... so you alright then?”

“Well... er... erm...” Dudley looked very embarrassed, glancing around the table, not sure that he wanted to say anything in front of everybody. Face reddening, he hung his head down and looked at the floor. “Er... I know what it’s like to not have any friends now,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry Harry...”

Harry swallowed, feeling a bit awkward. “Er... that’s all water under the bridge Dudley. There’s really no need to apologise again.”

“Th...thanks Harry...” Dudley offered a wan little smile. 

“Anyway, I... er... I don’t think you’ve met Hermione...”

“Hi Dudley.” Hermione smiled a bit shyly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

After breakfast, the Potters ended up with Dudley in the parlour playing video games on Dudley’s Playstation. Fleur and Dora joined them, both fascinated by the interactive muggle technology.

“Your godfather and his friend enchanted it for me,” Dudley told Harry when he asked.

“This is brilliant!” said Dora when she had a turn with the controller. “I’ve never actually played video-games before, though my muggle cousins play them all the time.”

Harry and Hermione were in the middle of a game when they heard voices they recognised in the hallway behind them. Moody and Madam Bones had arrived. Dudley was surprised to see a girl with red hair entering the parlour.

“Oh... er... I forgot to tell you Dudley. You won’t actually be all alone this summer,” said Harry. “This is Susan Bones, Madam Bones’s niece. Susan, this is my cousin Dudley.”

“Er... Hi!” Dudley flushed. He’d never really talked to a girl before and had no idea what to say.

“Hello Dudley,” said Susan shyly before addressing Harry. “Thank you for inviting me and Aunt Amelia to stay for the summer Harry... Dad and Mum were frightened that You-Know-Who would get us now that he’s back.”

“You’re welcome Susan,” Harry responded, smiling. “Madam Bones and Dumbledore told me and Hermione about your parents being in the Order. I... I’m sorry about the rest of your family...”

Harry glanced at Dudley who was twiddling his thumbs and staring awkwardly at his shoes. “You’ll be nice to Susan over the summer won’t you Dudley?”

Dudley looked up and nodded.

“Of course I will Harry!” Dudley replied. “...It’ll be nice to have someone else around a bit the rest of the summer. I promise I’ll be nice to Susan.”

**~o0o~**

Feeling a bit agitated, Harry had taken the opportunity to escape after saying hello to Moody and Madam Bones, retiring to the library with Hermione. Being alone with her, Harry finally began to relax after the rather emotional morning. Hermione was sitting on Harry’s lap in a cozy armchair in the library, both reading a stack of superhero comics which Dora had given them to read.

“I think you two’ll love these,” Dora had said with a chuckle. “You’ll see what I mean...”

Hermione giggled as Harry carefully turned the page. “He reminds me of you Harry. He’s got the same round glasses and everything...”

Harry shook his head in amazement at how much he had in common with the protagonist. Apparently, often feeling like everything was his fault when the people he loved were put in harms way must be a more common trait than he had thought. The boy with a radioactive spider bite had even been raised by his aunt and uncle after his parents had been killed.

Harry laughed and tickled Hermione, causing her to squeal, when they read the next page.

“Yeah... well _**she**_ reminds me of you...” Harry grinned, pointing at the picture of the superhero’s sexy girlfriend in the issue they were reading. “She’s the perfect partner for Spiderman - smart, gorgeous, superpowered, both of them fighting crime together...”

“Don’t be silly Harry! Her hair looks like Fleur’s...” Hermione stuck her tongue out at Harry. “...And her bust is _**much**_ bigger than mine by far.” But she squirmed happily on his lap at the favourable comparison nonetheless.

“Maybe so, but the Black Cat makes a lot more sense as Spiderman’s girlfriend than the one who looks like Ginny...” Harry responded, earning himself a rather heated kiss from Hermione.

A grunt and a cough from the doorway startled the Potters, and they both blushed furiously when they spied Mad Eye grinning at them.

“You’ll want to be careful with those comics Potter... Tonks won’t take it kindly if you squash them,” Mad Eye chuckled.

“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know, I’ll be escorting you to Gringotts tomorrow mornin’... I’ve made an appointment with Ragnok for you - Right that’s it then! Carry On where you left off...” Mad Eye smirked and clomped down the stairs to the kitchen for an early lunch.

Harry waved his wand, shutting and locking the library door behind Moody. Another swish cast a silencing charm and he placed the comic carefully on the table.

“Harry!” Hermione squeaked anxiously when Harry’s lips brushed against the side of her neck, his hands roaming. “What are you doing?”

“Carrying On!” Harry said airily. “You don’t expect me to disobey a Mad Eye order do you?”

“But everyone’s watching the television in the parlour,” Hermione moaned. “Shouldn’t we go upstairs to our room?”

“Orders are orders Hermione...” Harry grinned. “And it is our home after all.”

Hermione blushed, unable to help feeling naughtily aroused knowing that everyone was just a few rooms away.

“Honestly Harry, sometimes you are so literal... OH!... ” Hermione gasped, her face wrought with ardour as she responded to Harry's touch.

“Mmmmhmmm...” Harry murmured playfully in response.

A whirlwind of passion took Hermione and Harry by storm. Magic sparked and the library trembled, Dora’s comics fluttering lightly, remaining safely on the table.


	41. Trials and Tribulations: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for the beginning this chapter.

Jennifer woke to the early morning sunlight of summer streaming through the window. It was very welcome after being held captive shackled to a pillar in the dark musty basement of her own home for months. 

As she had for the last three days every morning, Jennifer opened the window and breathed in the fresh air, finding a small measure of solace in the bright blue sky and puffy little clouds scudding by. But despite all, Jennifer was still unhappy and frightened; she could find little pleasure in the cool breeze and the beauty outside, and wondered if she would would ever know joy again.

And Jennifer was very puzzled as to where she was; all she knew was that she was obviously in a private ward of some sort of hospital. It certainly wasn’t in Dorset judging by the mountains, and the woods nearby full of ancient oaks and tall evergreens looked too old to be anywhere in England. And the shimmering blue lake was the largest she had ever seen.

Nor was there any indication that she was in a city or town. There wasn’t a single tall building in sight, nor any buildings for that matter, as if the hospital were sitting all alone in the middle of the countryside. Which was very odd considering that her hospital room appeared to be very high up from the verdant green lawn which she could see down below.

Jennifer began to wonder if she was in some sort of mental hospital. All of the creepy ones in films appeared to always be in some out of the way location, as if the residents were too deranged to be housed anywhere near polite society. Given some of the bizarre things she had seen which couldn’t possibly be real, Jennifer considered the possibility that the hallucinations indicated that she belonged in an institution.

The soft nightgown against her skin was only moderately comforting as well. Though it felt good to be wearing clothes again, Jennifer was still haunted by the humiliation and degradation of being kept unclothed throughout her entire captivity. She could still see the men at the top of stairs ogling her, stayed only by the jealousy of her tormenter. Jennifer still felt exposed, and she wondered if she would ever get over the shame of it. 

Though she had obviously been cleaned on the outside, Jennifer doubted that the dirt and filth inside her could ever be scrubbed away. Ratface had stripped her of every last bit of dignity, violated her in every way imaginable - the betrayal of her sanity by the response of her own body - the guilt was too much to bear. 

Jennifer couldn’t escape him in her dreams or her waking moments - she couldn’t escape the fear. She could still feel him on top of her. She could still smell the stench of his breath, still see his leering face looming over her.

No amount of fresh air, no amount of sunshine, no amount of clean clothes could ever make up for that. 

And though she was grateful to her rescuer, to be found in such a state by the old man with a long white beard was mortifying. And though the nurse who looked after her was kind and gentle, Jennifer could never meet her eyes, afraid that the nurse would be able to see what she had become.

Jennifer heard voices approaching her room on the other side of the doorway. Instinctively she returned to her bed and huddled in the corner, drawing her knees to her chest and letting her long ebony hair cover her face.

“...I’m not sure Albus. It may be too soon. The poor thing hasn’t said a single word to me in four days...”

Jennifer heard a sigh, and she recognised the warm voice of the old man replying.

“I understand Poppy, but if I am to help... to explain in a way which will help Miss Watts begin to make sense of things and move forward, then I need to see her. Perhaps a calming draught would be of some benefit before I enter.”

“Very well Albus... Just a moment then.”

The door opened and the nurse entered the room. Smiling kindly, she handed Jennifer a little vial.

“There you go dear... down the hatch with the lot of it.”

Dutifully, Jennifer complied. A warm tingly numbness filled her in moments. She trembled a bit when the old man with a long white beard entered and sat in the bedside chair. She wondered if the old man was a doctor, though he seemed to be dressed rather oddly. Peeking between the strands of hair covering her face, Jennifer couldn’t help but be drawn to his piercing blue eyes. 

The wizened old man caught her gaze and returned it intently. After a few moments his features softened and he spoke to her with a gentle voice.

“My apologies Miss Watts, would you prefer that I call you Jennifer?”

Jennifer nodded, feeling slightly calmer at being addressed with some familiarity.

“I am not a doctor, Jennifer, I am a headmaster, and this is not a mental facility... this is a school for children with very unusual abilities...”

For some reason that she couldn’t quite fathom, Jennifer managed to find her voice. She needed to know...

“My... my parents?” she whispered.

“I am very sorry...” The old man’s voice cracked slightly, and for a moment his features appeared even more ancient as grief crossed them. “Your parents did not survive...”

Jennifer nodded, tears trickling down her cheeks. She had expected as much. She recalled a flash of green lightning and her mother collapsing. The old man gave her a few minutes to process the information before continuing.

“You might be wondering why you are in a school and not under the care of the police or the NHS. As I mentioned, this is a very different sort of school... a school for children with special abilities. And the reason you are here is because the persons who committed the outrages upon you and your family also have such special abilities. 

“As difficult as this may be to believe, you are not going mad - you and your family were attacked by Dark wizards....”

Jennifer’s eyes widened. “I... I’m not crazy?”

“No... you are not. Though you have been severely traumatised. Due to certain circumstances, we are unable to treat you at an appropriate facility... However we are not without means, and I believe we can help you deal with the worst of it by the end of summer - though recovery in these situations can be a long-term ongoing process. 

“And although you won’t be able to stay here after term starts, we do have someone who can look after you. Her name is Hestia Jones, and I will make the introductions this afternoon, if you think you can manage it. And I expect you might like to get out of this room for a bit... see the grounds.”

Jennifer nodded again. “Alright... I think I can manage. Thank you... for everything - for rescuing me... for looking after me.”

**~o0o~**

Dumbledore dabbed at his glistening eyes with a hanky. For the second time within the space of a few months, he had been forced to relive some of the worst bits of his own life. Unlike Astoria, Jennifer Watts looked nothing like his sister, but Dumbledore couldn’t help but see Ariana when he looked at Jennifer.

Madam Pomfrey peered at him with concern, leavened by a measure of relief.

“Good heavens Albus... How did you manage to get her to talk?”

“Well, I am a headmaster after all, Poppy. It comes with the territory... I suppose I just have a way with children and young people.”

After returning to his office Dumbledore found Madam Bones awaiting him; he recounted his conversation with Jennifer Watts.

“Really Albus, did you have to tell the poor girl _**everything?”**_ Amelia grumbled, thinking that she almost preferred the old Dumbledore who played everything close to the vest. “Wouldn’t it have been better for the girl to have got whatever information we needed and obliviated the poor thing?”

Albus shook his head, sighing at having to repeat the conversation which he’d previously had with Madam Pomfrey.

“Perhaps at one time I would have agreed wholeheartedly Amelia, but obliviations are not to be done lightly - they are only a temporary measure at best in situations such as this... No doubt for the foreseeable future it will still often prove to be to the benefit of all to obliviate casual observers for their own protection and ours. But I would rather avoid it when at all possible. Obliviation can be quite damaging to fragile minds, and Miss Watts’ has endured quite enough strain as it is.

“Hestia Jones will be more than happy to look after Miss Watts for the time being and make sure that she gets the care she needs. The young woman will be safe, and so will our secrets.

“It is quite a violation of personal sovereignty after all, and I have rather come to think that obliviations ought to be reserved for enemies except under the direst of circumstances or utmost necessity. Remember, this is the Order, not the DMLE Amelia, and I am beginning to believe that our relationships as wizards with the muggle world would benefit from less secrecy rather than more.

“We can at least protect this one victim from being harmed again by either Voldemort’s forces or the Minister’s... That is all I really have to say on the matter. In the meantime, please look after yourself and the Potters' family members well. As Alastor would say... Constant Vigilance!”

Amelia smiled at Dumbledore's attempt to cheer her up, despite his own obvious distress. And she was pleased to see a twinkle spark in his eye.

**~o0o~**

“Oh, well _done_ Mr Weasley! This will do very nicely indeed,” Dolores gushed. “I never imagined that you would find an extra charge for Mr Potter and charges for Mrs Potter as well.”

Percy Weasley looked very pleased with himself at having earned such high praise from the Minister. He had been working diligently, getting very little sleep in the last 36 hours.

“I want you to know Mr Weasley,” Dolores continued, “that whatever happens in the Wizengamot on Monday, you will continue to hold my highest regard. The Wizengamot is a political game... 

“It will be up to me to convince those who may be reticent to prosecute the Potters that it is necessary. If we fail, it will only be due to the low standards to which far too many on the Wizengamot still hold Mr Potter.”

“Thank you Minister - I understand. The only problem now is that I’m not certain how to inform the Potters of the charges,” said Percy, frowning. “Apparently they never returned to Potter’s home at Privet Drive, and that’s the only address which the Ministry has on file.”

The Minister looked pensive for a moment, then she peered apologetically at her Deputy.

“I know this is asking rather a lot of you Mr Weasley, but perhaps you could give the Summonses to your father to deliver to the Potters. From what you have told me of your family’s connections to them, he is sure to know how to reach them.”

Percy’s face darkened at the mention of his father, but he wasn’t about to disappoint the Minister.

“Yes Minister,” Percy replied, nodding briskly, “I’ll do it immediately...”

**~o0o~**

“Father, I’m getting sick of being cooped up in here. I feel much better. When are we leaving?”

“Now, now, Draco. Our host has been most gracious - very kind indeed. Would you rather that you were still languishing in Azkaban? ”

“But she doesn’t even have any House Elves,” Draco whined. “I hate doing the dishes. It’s for servants.... And it’s bloody hard with just one hand.”

“But the food is more than acceptable - it’s the least we can do,” Lucius sighed, passing Draco another sudsy plate to rinse and set in the drying rack.

“I don’t know why we can’t just leave now,” grumbled Draco. “Madam Bones is gone now. Why haven’t I been pardoned yet? I don’t understand.”

“Soon Draco. Until the Minister has purged Dumbledore’s people from the DMLE and convinced the Wizengamot to ratify a pardon, you will be considered a fugitive. And considering that our home has been destroyed, I daresay we are safer here. We will have to watch our backs for the Dark Lord and the fools who have returned to his side.”

“Well the sooner the better.” Draco scowled, nearly dropping the plate that he had rinsed. “I want to get out of here and kill Potter and his pet Mudblood. And when I do, I want to take that Greengrass whore for my own.”

Lucius smiled indulgently. Like father, like son. Draco was too young to understand politics, but he at least understood his rightful place in the order of things.

Lucius was still appalled at the betrayal of his wife. She had belonged to him. His father, Abraxas, had paid a pretty penny to Cygnus Black for her. Lucius frowned, for the umpteenth time contemplating the inadequacy of the Marriage Contract his father had signed. The Blacks were cunning indeed, always seeking an angle to ensure the growth of their fortune, and they had unfortunately bred the most defiant and treacherous women as well.

Lucius shook his head. At least Dolores understood her place. She was a strong woman, perhaps not the most attractive, but she knew that her strengths were best employed in the services of those of superior social standing and blood-status.

Dolores had done well devising the plan to get rid of that bumbling fool of a blood-traitor, Cornelius Fudge. Lucius had been working on Cornelius for some time, offering sums of money for various projects, but Cornelius had been far too reliant on that muggle-lover Dumbledore for his political views, and for his access to the Wizengamot.

Still, Dolores was a woman, Lucius reasoned. It would be foolish to ever completely trust a woman, and Abraxas had not raised Lucius to be a fool.

“Have patience Draco. If the Minister and Senior Undersecretary Weasley are successful, your wishes could be granted sooner than you think.”

“Percy the Poodle!” Draco smirked. “Good for him! I never thought I’d see the day that I actually thought a Weasley had any potential.”

“Indeed...” a cruel smile played across the elder Malfoy’s features. Once he had exacted vengeance against Narcissa and those who had harmed his son, Lucius would be certain to reward Percy Weasley handsomely for choosing to stand for the proper order of things.

**~o0o~**

Breakfast at Number Twelve on Thursday was interrupted by the arrival of an extremely agitated Arthur Weasley. Uncharacteristically, he stumbled out of the floo, wheezing and covered in ash, holding two envelopes.

“What’s that you’ve got there Arthur?” growled Mad Eye. “Potter and I are just gettin’ ready to leave for Gringotts...”

“It’s...er... quite awkward really Alastor,” Mr Weasley glanced at Hermione. “I think Mrs Potter’s presence in Ragnok’s office may also be necessitated. The Minister, unable to locate Harry or Mrs Potter in Little Whinging, had my son Percy deliver these to me first thing this morning...”

“Merlin’s bollocks Arthur, get to the bloody point,” snapped Moody. “Just let me see that. _Two_ Summonses? We were only expecting one!”

Mad Eye snatched the letters from Arthur’s hand and inspected them with his magical eye for booby traps. His jaw dropped, his face twisting in anger. He passed one letter to Harry and the other to Hermione.

Frowning, Hermione tore open her envelope and gasped when she finished reading it.

“H... Harry, look at this. I can’t believe it.” Hermione passed him the letter, her hand trembling.

“You’re joking!?” Harry gasped furiously when he read the demand for Hermione to appear in court for being an accessory to the crime of the willful destruction of Ministry Property and violating the International Statute of Secrecy. Harry’s own Summons had also added the charge of violating the International Statute of Secrecy to his charges of destroying 416 Dementors.

Harry put his arm around Hermione, who was on the verge of hyperventilating.

“This is absolutely outrageous!” Jean fumed, reading over Hermione’s Summons. “These documents have been signed and approved by a Senior Undersecretary Percival Ignatius _**Weasley.”**_

Jean glared at Arthur Weasley, who looked as if he wanted to crawl into a hole in the ground.

“I...I...I’m d...d...dreadfully sorry...” Arthur stammered, his face flushed in shame. “M...my... son,” Arthur could barely bring himself to say it, “My...er... son was recently promoted and taken on by the Minister herself.”

“It’s not Mr Weasley’s fault Mum,” Harry glumly told Jean. “Percy’s had it in for me ever since he joined the Ministry... thought I was a bit of a troublemaker apparently.” Then a flare of rage blazed in Harry’s eyes. “I thought he was alright with Hermione though...”

“We’ll get this sorted,” Moody interjected, “We’ve got an appointment with Gringott’s Solicitor Advocate at 9:30 anyway...”

**~o0o~**

Ragnok peered down his long pointy nose studiously at the Summonses and snorted, shaking his head. Taking off his reading glasses, the goblin massaged his forehead then glanced back at the Potters and Moody with raised eyebrows.

“Well, I cannot promise anything in regards to the decision of the Wizengamot Mr and Mrs Potter,” said Ragnok. “Politics plays too large of a role for me to make any guarantees. But I can indeed promise you that the law - as it currently stands - is in your favour.

“First, the Ministry has no standing when it comes to actions taken on Hogwarts grounds unless charges are brought forth by the parents of students under the age of majority, or staff-members. Secondly, the stationing of Dementors on Hogwarts grounds is illegal without the express permission of the headmaster. 

“Thirdly - and most importantly - there is no basis for the charges as it cannot be proved that either of the Potters were responsible for the destruction of the Dementors. No known spell exists which is capable of doing so. 

“Which leads to the fourth point... there is no proof that either of the Potters broke the International Statute of Secrecy - and frankly I am at a loss as to what the basis for that charge is, as it is not stated in the Summonses.”

“Which is what we’ve been sayin’ all along. So whaddya say Ragnok?” growled Moody. “Will you take the case then?”

“Yes indeed,” the goblin answered without hesitation, his eyes narrowing, “This is one of the most blatant and egregious cases of False Charges that I have seen in quite some time. It is possible that the Minister is planning on using these charges to establish new precedents, giving the Ministry legal grounds for Ministry oversight regarding the administration of policy at Hogwarts.”

**~o0o~**

The next few days drew out agonisingly. Harry and Hermione spent some time with Dora, Fleur, Susan, and Dudley, playing games and watching films, but most of the time they spent in Number Twelve’s library, going over the law books so that they knew what they were in for, even though Ragnok had insisted that he do all of the talking.

Finally it was Monday. Moody, Dora, and Fleur escorted them both through London to the red phone-box which was the Visitor's Entrance to the Ministry.

“Right then. This is where I get off,” Mad Eye growled. “I’m persona non grata in the Ministry at the moment, so Tonks will take you the rest of the way, and Mulligan will meet you inside. Ragnok will meet you outside the Wizengamot chambers. 

“We’re two hours early, because I wouldn’t put it past the Minister to change the time to try and wrong-foot you. I’d say ‘good luck,’ but you’ve got Ragnok on your side, and he’s never lost a case.”

“Thanks Professor Moody...” said Harry; Hermione peered at Moody gratefully.

“Bonne chance, ‘Arry, ‘Ermione,” said Fleur. “I know all will be well.” Then Fleur gave Dora a kiss. “I weell be back. I go shopping in ze meantime...”

“Well don’t stand about jawin’ all day! Get a move on...” Moody said gruffly. But then his features softened slightly, “Tonks has got your back you two.”

Dora rolled her eyes at Moody, then returned Fleur’s kiss before leading the Potters into the phone-box. After they had passed through the security checkpoints Dora kept an eye out for Auror Mulligan in the Ministry’s atrium.

“There you are,” grumbled Dora, after looking for a few minutes. “I thought you’d be meetin’ us by the security checkpoint at the Visitor’s Entrance. 

“Sorry Tonks...” Mulligan puffed, looking very out of breath. “I got held up... I just got notice that the time of the trial has been moved up - it begins in half an hour.”

“Of course,” Dora sighed. “Luckily Mad Eye was dead to rights on that score. We’d better hurry.”  
As she and Mulligan led them down to the lowest levels of the Ministry, Hermione clutched Harry’s arm tightly, trying her best to avoid the stares of Ministry workers and visitors who all appeared to be quite aware of the trial. A few cameras went off, and a reporter from the _Daily Prophet_ tried to get a statement from the Potters.

“No comment,” Mulligan declared authoritatively as he roughly shoved the reporter out of the way.

“Bugger off or I’ll make you eat that camera!” Dora snapped at the _Prophet’s_ cameraman.

Harry grit his teeth, his anger battling with his anxiety. Harry glared back at anyone he caught staring at them until they looked away nervously. After an elevator ride worthy of the Gringotts rail-carts to the vaults, they found themselves on the tenth level of the Ministry. The stone corridors were dark and forbidding.

Finally, they entered a little antechamber next to the Wizengamot’s trial chambers where Ragnok was waiting for them. Ragnok nodded curtly; Mulligan remained outside the door, keeping guard.

“Good thing you’re early,” said Ragnok. “The trial will begin in a few minutes. Don’t forget: say nothing until I give the all-clear.”

“I’ll be standin’ behind you two officially as an Auror,” Dora began, then, lowering her voice to a whisper, “But as your friend, I’m watchin’ out for you two. Whatever happens in there, I’m gettin’ you both outta here... promise.” Dora embraced Hermione and Harry, giving them both a kiss on the cheek.

Mulligan entered the anteroom and beckoned them forth. “It’s time...they’re all setting up now.”

Harry felt rather sick with anxiety as he followed Dora and Mulligan into the trial-chamber with Hermione. There were perhaps over fifty people in plum-coloured robes sitting in the benches staring at them as they entered. 

But seeing that smirking Toad of a Minister and the smug look on Percy's face filled Harry with a fury which washed all nervousness away. Feeling Hermione trembling slightly beside him, Harry tightened his arm around her, and glared at Minister Umbridge. She and Percy, and a few others in the seats near the podium wore black robes.

Harry glanced at the inscription on the podium and snorted. “Ignorantia juris neminem excusat,” it read. He wasn’t brilliant at Latin by any means; but Harry had picked up enough from learning spell incantations, and at least two of the words were close enough to their modern English forms that he could have worked it out without knowing any Latin at all.

The Minister’s smirk changed to a look of disgust when she saw the Goblin enter the chambers and stand between her and the Potters. Minister Dolores Umbridge felt her chest tighten. Why hadn’t she been informed of Ragnok’s presence? She glanced at the two Aurors present, and made a note to herself to find out who their immediate superiors were. Her confidence slightly shaken, Minister Umbridge cleared her throat and began the proceedings.

“Ahem...hem... The Criminal Trial, Third of July, of Harry James Potter and Hermione Jean Potter née Granger, residence unknown, is now called into session. Interrogators: Minister of Magic - Dolores Jane Umbridge, Acting Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement - Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister - Percival Ignatius Weasley. Court Scribe -”

“...Is unimportant. Ragnok, Solicitor Advocate of Gringotts Bank - speaking for the Defence. If the Minister is finished wasting Gringotts’ Client’s and the Wizengamot’s time, perhaps we can get on with things. ”

Minister Umbridge narrowed her eyes and Percy gasped at the Goblin’s open display of disrespect.

Harry and Hermione were a bit perplexed themselves. Shouldn’t Ragnok be trying to placate those sitting in judgment on them? Harry caught the eye of Warlock Greengrass in the stands. Warlock Greengrass, and several other Wizengamot members seated next to him appeared to be smirking and chuckling.

“If you insist Mr Ragnok, let’s get to it then, shall we!?” the Minister began coldly. “Your client - Mr Harry James Potter - is charged with the willful destruction of Ministry Property - namely 416 Dementors - and one charge of violating the International Statute of Secrecy.”

“Mr Potter’s...ahem... wife, Mrs Hermione Jean Potter née Granger is charged as an accessory to the willful destruction of Ministry Property and one charge of violating the International Statute of Secrecy. How do your clients plead?”

The Wizengamot chambers broke into a murmur, seemingly divided into sounds of bewilderment at the charges, and sounds of approval. When loud stage whispers which sounded suspiciously like “muggleborn” could be heard over the hubbub, Hermione shrank back against Harry and bit her lip.

The Minister banged her gavel twice and the stands fell silent once more. Ragnok, who had waited for the noise to pass, answered the charges.

“My clients Warlock Potter and his wife Madam Potter, plead Not Guilty on all counts, and we move that the court dismiss all charges immediately as being utterly without foundation in fact or law.” Ragnok folded his spindly fingers together and peered shrewdly back at the Minister.

Minister Umbridge’s nostrils flared, her cheeks turning pink, and Percy glanced aside swallowing nervously.

“Over 1,600 wizards and witches - including Hogwarts students and staff - witnessed the destruction of the Dementors by Mr Potter,” Minister Umbridge proffered in a treacly voice. “Not to mention the several hundred Muggles in nearby towns who reported odd lights in the night sky on the evening of June 24th - hence the charge of violating the Statute of Secrecy.”

Ragnok raised his eyebrows. “Can the Minister demonstrate that Warlock Potter cast the spell which destroyed the Dementors? Where is the evidence that he, himself cast the spell, with the alleged assistance of his wife? And by what spell do you propose that Warlock Potter and his wife destroyed the Dementors? None that we know of exists...”

 **“Aha!”** Umbridge perked up and pointed her forefinger at the ceiling, _“‘None that we know of’_ indeed... Perhaps if Mr Potter would offer up his wand for examination, and his testimony under veritaserum...”

“Absolutely not!” Ragnok bristled with outrage. “ _Warlock_ Potter, as Head of his House, is perfectly within his rights to refuse the Court’s demands, given that no charges have been brought forth by anyone of Standing. In fact, it is on that basis that I yet again request an immediate dismissal of all charges against him...”

“What do you mean?” the Minister snapped. “Of course charges have been brought by a Person of Standing against Mr Potter and his wife. I, myself, as Minister, and Acting Head of the DMLE have...”

“No, you do not...” Ragnok interrupted firmly. “The Ministry has No Standing on Hogwarts Grounds. Only the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the Staff, the Board of Governors, or the Parents of Students have any Standing in filing charges regarding occurrences at Hogwarts.”

“The Dementors were on Hogwarts Grounds illegally, as they did not have permission of the headmaster to enter school property. Therefore, the Ministry has absolutely no Standing on the matter whatsoever. I move for an immediate vote by the Wizengamot to determine _Warlock_ Potter’s and his wife’s innocence before this travesty of a proceeding continues any further.”

Minister Dolores Umbridge was fuming now, her cheeks beginning to take on purplish hue. The Goblin was absolutely correct, and she knew it... That was one of the key reasons - besides going after Mr Potter - why she had instigated the Triwizard Tournament - to get a foot in the door at Hogwarts. But she wasn’t about to let up.

“A mere technicality! Ministry Property was destroyed on Hogwarts Grounds. Someone must be punished. Mr Potter is the only...”

“Move to Disregard and Strike Testimony! You are Testifying without any Supporting Evidence and in Contravention of Jurisdictional Code. And because the Court continues to make a mockery of established jurisprudence, as Solicitor Advocate of Gringotts - sovereign ground of the Goblin Nation - I, Ragnok, assert Privilege, as Established by Treaty, to call for an Immediate Vote and be done with this part of the proceeding.”

The Wizengamot broke into a buzz of gasps and hushed conversation. The Goblin did indeed have the Privilege he had invoked, but it hadn’t been used in over 70 years. The Minister gaped and Percy slumped in his seat with a groan. Warlock Greengrass stood up resolutely to get things moving.

“I vote for Dismissal of the Charge regarding the destruction of 416 Dementors, and call for a Show of Hand in Favour of the Defendants,” Warlock Greengrass said loudly, with a nod in Harry’s direction.

The Wizengamot fell silent, and one by one, hands went up. When the raised hands were counted, it was clear that a slight majority were in Harry’s favour. The Minister narrowed her eyes and mentally noted with disapproval the seven Wizengamot ‘wobblies’ who had voted against her.

“Very well,” Minister Umbridge sneered, “the charges of the destruction of 416 Dementors are dismissed. Now as to the other charges against Mr and Mrs Potter...”

“I move for the immediate dismissal on the grounds that there is no basis for bringing charges of violating the International Statute of Secrecy against _**Warlock**_ Potter and _**Madam**_ Potter - given that the court has been unable to prove that they cast the spell - if it was such - which destroyed the Dementors,” Ragnok interrupted again, pressing his advantage.

“I invoke Privilege once more, to reverse all further charges against my clients.”

Warlock Greengrass made to rise, but one of the witches who had previously voted with the Minister - against Harry and Hermione - beat him to it.

“As the court has been unable to make its case, I vote to dismiss all further charges against the Potters,” the witch stated firmly as she rose from her seat. “It is only logical - the Law must be followed.”

The Minister noted that the same 'wobblies' voted against her, and in favour of the Potters yet again... and that several other witches and wizards who had supported her charge of destroying the Dementors against Harry and Hermione Potter had also voted to dismiss the rest of charges, apparently swayed by the previous majority vote. 

Minister Umbridge angrily banged her gavel.

“Very well, the Wizengamot has spoken!” Dolores snapped. “All charges are dismissed. You are free to go, Mr and Mrs Potter.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped; Harry let out a huge sigh of relief, and roughly half of the Wizengamot broke into loud cheers and the other half into clamourous hisses, boos, and grumbles.

“We won... I can’t believe it... WE WON, Harry!” Hermione squealed giddily, jumping up and down with glee. Harry grinned at Hermione and she flung her arms around him, giving him a big kiss.

Elation and Anxiety simultaneously filled Harry. Warlock Greengrass was beckoning him. Harry glanced at Ragnok who nodded his approval to speak. Hermione kissed him again. Harry took a deep breath, steeling his nerves; he turned back towards the Wizengamot and bellowed over the uproar and commotion which had erupted in the chambers.

**“I, HARRY JAMES POTTER, AS RIGHTFUL WARLOCK OF THE HOUSE OF POTTER, HEREBY CLAIM MY SEAT ON THE WIZENGAMOT!”**

**~o0o~**

A number of wizards and witches shook the Potters’ hands as they made their way up into the Wizengamot stands. Harry’s stomach clenched anxiously at being surrounded by so many people in close quarters, but he couldn’t help grinning at the thrilling sensation of inclusion. Hermione felt similarly afflicted and held on tightly to Harry so as not to be swept away by the crowd.

A cacophony of adulation met their ears.

“Good show Mr Potter...”

“Splendid to finally meet you Sir...”

“Good on you for getting Ragnok. He really stuck it to the old Hag...”

Finally they reached Mr Greengrass.

“Well done Warlock Potter, Madam Potter,” said Warlock Greengrass, clasping Harry’s hand and then Hermione’s, giving them both a wink and an amused smirk.

“Thank you Sir... for everything,” Harry grinned. “That was brilliant! But please, call me Harry...”

Mr Greengrass peered at Harry with a bemused expression. “Are you ready to call me Cyril yet?”

“Er...” said Harry uncertainly.

“I’m sorry Harry,” said Cyril, “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I’d be happy to call you Harry if you prefer.”

“Thank you Mr Greengrass. I’m sure I’ll be able to manage it eventually. It just feels weird to me. So... er... what do I do now that I’m a Warlock?”

“Nothing more for the moment Harry. You’ve done exactly what you needed to do. You will be called upon the next time the entire Wizengamot is called into session, but that generally isn’t very often - and you can appoint a proxy if you are unable to attend. For now, your Declaration of Intent is enough to give some of those in the middle pause before siding with the Minister.

“What you really ought to be doing now is enjoying the rest of your summer holiday,” Cyril Greengrass concluded with a kindly smile.

**~o0o~**

Dora managed to hold herself together until she reached the departure checkpoint for visitors. She gave Harry and Hermione a wink, then she unclasped her Auror badge and chucked it at the startled Security Wizard, bouncing it off his forehead.

“Oi... What’s all this then?”

“My resignation!” Dora grinned.

Once outside, Dora pounced on both Potters, sweeping them into a group hug.

“You’re free.... I’m free!” Dora squealed. “I say we all go celebrate - we’re to meet Fleur in Trafalgar Square...”

It was a short walk from Whitehall to Trafalgar Square. Fleur beamed radiantly when she saw the three of them. She dropped the several bags of shopping and swept the lot of them into another group embrace.

“I knew eet! I knew you would get off... zey ’ave nothing on you!” 

And before Harry or Hermione realised what was happening, after kissing Dora, Fleur plastered their lips with big kisses as she had after the Second Task. The Potters both blushed furiously. Dora grinned at their red faces, and not to be outdone by Fleur, she planted kisses on Harry and Hermione as well. They all burst into giggles as pedestrians and pigeons turned to stare.

“Sorry about that,” said Dora giddily. “I couldn’t ‘elp myself. I’m just happy - I didn’t mean anything by it... just a silly bit of fun, really!”

“It’s alright Dora,” said Hermione, still giggling. “Don’t be sorry...”

“And I’m not sorry either...” Harry had a huge grin still affixed to his face. “Hermione and I both agreed that we thought you were a _Dora_ ble the first day we met.”

The girls all groaned at Harry’s dreadful pun.

“Prat!” Hermione giggled, giving Harry a playful swat and Dora stuck her tongue out at him; Fleur was still tittering.

The four of them walked across the street and toured the National Gallery and the nearby National Portrait Gallery. Harry came to a halt, staring at a portrait that he knew he’d seen somewhere before. 

“What is it, Harry?” asked Hermione when Harry continued to frown pensively at the portrait.

“That picture... I’ve seen it somewhere before.” Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise when it finally hit him. “That’s it...” he gasped. “I’ve seen it in Dumbledore’s office, and there’s another copy at Number Twelve!”

“‘Oo is zis... zis Phineas Nigellus Black?” Fleur inquired. “Ees per’aps a relative of your godfather, ‘Arry?”

“And mine!” gasped Dora. “ ‘E’s Sirius’s great great grandfather, and my great great _great_ grandfather.”

“But what would a wizard be doing in a muggle art gallery?” asked Harry, utterly flummoxed.

“He must have been someone well known in the muggle world too,” said Hermione. “It’s the only thing which makes sense. Maybe Sirius knows why.”

“Yeah... suppose so,” said Harry. “I’ll have to ask him when I get the chance.”

The foursome puzzled over it for a bit as they traipsed around the streets of London. Eventually they found themselves in the nearby St James’s Park, just a few blocks away from Buckingham Palace, eating fish and chips. They sat on a bench together by one of the ponds from which they could still see the Palace and watch the ducks playing.

“So what’ll you do now Dora?” Harry asked, sprinkling some malt vinegar on a piece of fish.

“Dunno... not sure really. I suppose I could _actually_ take a few post-grad classes at ‘Ogwarts while I think about it,” Dora responded, dipping a chip in some ketchup. She swallowed it then washed it down with a sip of Coke before continuing,

“Anyway, I’ll still be your protection detail for the Order until everything with You-Know-‘oo and the Minister is resolved anyway. So I’ll need to maintain my cover, and bein’ a post-grad student works as good as any I suppose...”

“Isn’t there something you’ve always dreamed of doing?” Hermone asked.

“Er... well... to tell you the truth, before Mad Eye convinced me to become an Auror, I always wanted to be a musician or draw comics - I’m not ‘alf-bad on guitar and keys, and you know me, I love cartoons. But... but Mum and Dad were both pretty opposed - said they weren’t ‘realistic options,’ and that they wouldn’t pay to support me unless I was trainin’ for a ‘real’ job,” Dora sadly concluded.

“You should do it - either one, or both. I’ll support you Dora,” Harry said eagerly. “You’d be a brilliant musician or artist... I just know it!”

“Oh Harry... that's very sweet, really, but I couldn’t possibly....”

“I mean it!” Harry begged earnestly, “Look... I’ve got loads of money since Sirius just gave me a whole vault. But it’s not doing anyone any good just sitting in Gringotts... And you can live with us when we’re not at Hogwarts. Please...”

“Oui, Dora... zat sounds vairy nice,” said Fleur. “To pursue your dreams ees très bien.”

Dora glanced at Hermione for back-up, but Hermione was grinning. She reached out a hand and took Dora’s in her own, squeezing it gently.

“Why not Dora? We’re all family now... Fleur can stay as well if she wants to.”

“Yeah... that’d be brilliant!” said Harry. “There’s plenty of room - or there will be at some point anyway.”

“You sure about this Harry?”

“Absolutely! Why not?”

Dora glanced at Fleur again, feeling torn. She was supposed to be a grown-up, making her own way in the world in a proper profession. But here she was, eating fish and chips in a park with her whole life ahead of her and feeling like a giddy schoolgirl again. Dora slowly nodded and took a deep breath to steady herself.

“Alright then...” Dora relented, “if you both really mean it, I’m in... But only until I can make it on my own. ‘Ow about you, Fleur?”

“Oui! I plan to stay een Britain, anyway - to eemprove my English!” 

They all laughed as Fleur bit her lip and grinned. When the four of them had finished eating, Harry banished the rubbish into a bin and they all leaned back against the bench sighing in contentment.

“So what about you Harry?” Dora asked, finally breaking the happy silence, “ ‘Ave you thought anymore about what you want to do after Hogwarts?”

“I’m not sure either Dora,” Harry replied. “Funnily enough, since I’ve been taking Runes, I’ve discovered I really like drawing too.” Harry chuckled slightly at that, before becoming serious again.

“At one point I thought it would be really cool to be an Auror. I still want to stop Dark Wizards from hurting people, but I’m rather off the Ministry at the moment! Even most of the nice ones I’ve met like Madam Bones and Shacklebolt are a bit stodgy and stiff... Except for Abbie Brixton - she seems really sweet.

“And I don’t really care if I get paid to do it - I’ve already got more money than I need. I dunno... do they have Wizard private detectives? I always liked Sherlock Holmes, maybe I could give that a go. But I’m probably more of a sidekick like Watson,” Harry sighed, “I’m not as smart as Sherlock or Hermione...”

“Honestly Harry, don’t be silly, you’re brilliant!” said Hermione as she flushed in embarrassment. “There’s more to being smart than just being brainy and knowing lots of things. Besides, you work very hard and you’re much smarter than you give yourself credit for.

“You’re very determined when you set your mind on something, and you’re brave and compassionate - and you have excellent leadership skills. I think it’s a smashing goal.”

It was Harry’s turn to blush and squirm.

“I’m with Hermione, Harry," said Dora. "I don’t really know of any Private Aurors, but you’d be amazing. And look ‘ow you took charge in the Third Task - you’re a Natural Born Leader. In fact, I might join you - when I’m not on tour or drawing comics.” Dora chortled and peered at Hermione. “So what about you then Hermione?”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she thought about everything that she and Harry had been put through, and all of the things which needed fixing in the Wizard World. It had been the very last thing she had ever considered. Hermione had always wanted to be involved in the sciences - muggle or magical. 

Hermione was determined that she would someday, but in the meantime there was too much else to be done. Like Harry, she wanted nothing more than to help improve everyone's lives.

“Magical Lawyer!” Hermione stated resolutely.

**~o0o~**

Jean had been looking forward to this all day, ever since receiving the excited mirror-call from Hermione after the trial on the mirror which Harry had left with her. Harry chortled when Hermione flattened Mum with one of her patented hugs before joining in himself.

Dora beamed giddily as she entered Number Twelve with Fleur. But she blushed when Moody caught her with his appraising eye.

“Had a nice day of it with the Potters and Delacour didja?” Mad Eye grinned, giving Tonks a wink.

Mad Eye shook his head and smirked when Tonks fled the room. It was a shame for the Wizarding World at large how things at the Ministry and the DMLE had worked out, but Alastor hardly had any room to cast aspersions on Tonks’ clear relief at no longer having to be part of it. 

Moody sighed, supposing that the Auror Corps had probably lost a chance at having Harry Potter on its team as well.

There had been more hugs with Auntie Joanne for Harry and Hermione. Even Aunt Petunia had tearily given Harry and Hermione a brief hug. Dudley smiled awkwardly at Harry and shook his hand.

“Glad you got out of that Harry,” said Dudley. “I wish you didn’t have to go back to Hogwarts tomorrow.”

“Thanks Dudley.” Harry returned the smile, realising with surprise that for the first time in his life that he would actually miss him a bit too. “Hey, Dudley... er... I’ll send you a letter every now and then. And if we get a chance, maybe we can even pop home for a quick visit with you, alright!?”

Susan cheerfully embraced Hermione and Harry as well, before Madam Bones offered her own more reserved congratulations; Abbie Brixton couldn’t resist giving the Potters and Tonks a hug too. Though Harry and Hermione were worn out after their long day, they watched a bit of TV and had a light supper with everyone else before going to bed. Harry and Hermione both sighed in contentment, arms around one another as they drifted off.

**~o0o~**

Senior Undersecretary Percy Weasley took a sip from his second cup of tea and glowered as he reviewed the trial transcript and the long-term voting records of the Wizengamot members at the Minister’s request. Minister Umbridge had made a strong point of it that he should draw his own conclusions after she had given him a basic understanding of her views on the matter.

The Minister had been absolutely right. There were far too many who still succumbed to worshiping Dumbledore’s cult of Potter, despite the relative success of Minister Umbridge’s campaign to force Dumbledore out of the Wizengamot and put a dent in Potter’s popularity over the last year or so.

But things had come a long way from fourteen years ago when everyone - including former He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named supporters - had fallen all over themselves to praise Potter for bringing an end to You-Know-Who, and had given Dumbledore carte blanche to preside over the Wizengamot. It was clear that the headmaster had been abusing his position to upend the System which had maintained Order and Security in the Wizard World for hundreds of years.

Percy shook his head in shock when he realised that Headmaster Dumbledore had been trying to undermine the system for many decades - long before he had become Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Dumbledore had been at it since 1945 in fact, and had been responsible for most of the “reforms” which had come to pass, many of them in the 1960's.

Before taking his internship with the Ministry, Percy had always imagined Dumbledore to be a great wizard, if a bit mad and rather lax. But in those days Percy had lacked a proper understanding of why his own family had always been so mocked and financially insecure until he had started working under Mr Crouch.

Percy could see now that he hadn't really comprehended the actual political currents well enough to put modern wizarding history in Britain into context until being in the thick of it himself. He was becoming more and more convinced that the Minister’s assessment was correct - that the pureblood supremacists had the right of it - and he began to think that the House of Slytherin’s reputation was undeserved.

Senior Undersecretary Weasley couldn’t say that he approved of You-Know-Who’s tactics any more than the Minister herself did, but he was beginning to understand - as she herself had come to understand - why the methods of the self-appointed saviour of pureblood supremacy could be viewed as a necessary evil.

Dumbledore’s “reforms” had broken the System, and the previous weak-kneed and spineless Ministers had allowed him to do so. It had become impossible for a quite some time to fix the problem from the inside.

But now that there was a Minister in power who also understood what was necessary, everything could be set to rights again from within, through the proper chain of authority and command. You-Know-Who could be put down like the narcissistic and unruly maniac he was.

Unfortunately it was clear that Dumbledore’s seeds of discord were still at work in the Ministry and the Wizengamot. Senior Undersecretary Weasley was forced to agree with the Minister’s assessment that a purge of Dumbledore’s and Potter’s supporters was necessary to save the Ministry and the Wizard World.

The Senior Undersecretary felt a knot of pain as he thought about his family, hoping that eventually they would see the error of their ways. Percy really didn't want them to have to face harsh measures, but it was clearer than ever that it had been his father’s support for Dumbledore and Potter which was responsible for the danger that Ginny had faced in her very first year at Hogwarts.

Lucius Malfoy would have hardly deemed it necessary to surreptitiously provide Ginny with a means to unlock the Chamber of Secrets if Hogwarts had a more suitable Headmaster. Percy was still cross that Malfoy had chosen Ginny instead of Fred or George, but now he understood completely why Warlock Malfoy had picked a Weasley for the task.

But they had to start somewhere, and the Minister was correct in that regard as well. It was too soon to move against the most recalcitrant bloc of the Wizengamot. The focus must continue to be on building the strength of the Traditionalist faction and weeding out the undependable.

Percy dipped his quill in some ink and began to write a list of those in the middle who were most unreliable. Once they were dealt with, and examples made, surely the rest of the Wizengamot would start falling into line.


	42. Under Summer Skies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more explicit version of this chapter is now available in _Moments in Love: The Steamy Version._

Luna sighed happily, wriggling her bare toes in the grass as she sat near the lakeshore patiently waiting for Ginny. 

Sparrows twittered in the birches and butterflies flitted among the wild primrose and azalea by the lake, the willows whispering in the cool breeze. Several geese flew low above the shimmering surface of the Black Lake. Except for birdsong and the hum of bees, it was quiet on the Hogwarts grounds, and there was something very satisfying about having it nearly all to herself for the summer. 

Everything was almost perfect - now all she needed was her girlfriend and their other friends. Luna had arrived the morning after the Order meeting, but the Weasleys had decided to have Ginny and Ron for a few days at home before sending them off to Hogwarts. 

Neville was around, but he was a bit mopey as he was missing Hannah Abbott. He was hanging out at the quidditch pitch reading a book while Viktor Krum soared around the castle on a broom. And it would be a few days yet before Harry and Hermione returned from London. 

Finally Luna heard someone calling her name; she glanced back and grinned when she saw a beaming face full of freckles and red hair. 

“There you are...” said Ginny. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“I knew you’d find me here. This is the perfect spot,” said Luna. “How come Ron didn’t come back to Hogwarts with you?”

“Wait... how did you know that?” Ginny looked very puzzled for a moment before she realised that Luna was having one of her intuitive moments.

“I can tell by your face,” Luna replied with a giggle. “You don’t look annoyed.”

“That’s a good point...” Ginny grinned, “Ron convinced Mum and Dad to let him go to Ireland to hang out with Seamus instead.”

“That’s nice,” said Luna, pulling Ginny in for a heated kiss. “Everyone should get to hang out with their best friend for the summer.

“Mmhmm,” Ginny responded, her lips busily engaging with Luna’s.

Luna pulled Ginny closer until they were both rolling around in each other’s arms on the grass together, giggling and kissing with reckless abandon. Ginny ended up on her back with Luna on top of her.

“Mmm...” Luna grinned. “This is much nicer without that creep McLaggen and his obnoxious friend watching. Maybe we can do a bit more this time... There’s no-one else around.”

Ginny’s eyes widened and she nervously licked her lips, smiling shyly back. Nobody else had ever made Ginny feel this way before. She’d been wanting to go further with Luna for a while, but hadn’t been sure how to ask, afraid of scaring her away. Ginny was delighted that Luna had taken the initiative.

“Er... alright then,” she squeaked. “I’d love to...” 

Taking Ginny at her word, Luna’s hands began to roam. Ginny trembled at Luna’s touch. Soon Luna had Ginny squirming, gasping at the tingles of pleasure rippling through her. Ginny responded in kind and the fervor took them both by storm.

Grinning with delight at having brought her partner to completion, Luna tugged off her own blouse and tossed it aside before undoing the waist of her skirt.

“What are you doing?” Ginny squeaked anxiously.

“We’re trying that again,” Luna retorted breezily. “But this time without clothes on...”

“But... but we’re outside...”

“So?” said Luna.

“Someone might see us...” Ginny moaned half-heartedly, her pulse racing. 

“Trust me, it’ll be even better this way.”

Watching Luna undress, Ginny couldn’t bring herself to disagree. Throwing caution to the wind, Ginny grinned and hurriedly pulled off her own clothes as the squirrels peeked down at them from the branches of the sycamore and the sparrows settled on the bushes to watch. Luna peered at Ginny with as much enthusiasm as Ginny had regarded Luna. 

Ginny pounced on Luna, this time taking the initiative. Moments later, they lost themselves to one another once more. 

Still in a euphoric haze, Ginny’s eyes widened when she thought she heard footsteps approaching. Luna’s breath caught and she gaped at Ginny in shock when they both heard a voice drawing nearer. Panicking, Ginny quickly grabbed her clothes as Luna snatched at her own.

“I could have sworn I saw them come down this way earlier,” said a voice which they both recognised as they’d met Hestia Jones at the Order meeting. “They’re lovely girls dear. I’m sure they would be happy to keep you company a bit while you’re staying with me at Hogwarts...”

Ginny bit her lip, groaning as she looked around wildly for a place to hide. Luna clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle and beckoned Ginny, pointing to the bushes nearby. The embarrassed pair of young witches scrambled under the bushes and covered each other’s mouths, both breathing rapidly.

Huddled together, their hearts pounded as one when they spied Hestia’s shoes and the shoes of someone they didn’t know through the leaves only centimetre’s away. Unable to help herself, Ginny let out a little squeak of shock when it appeared that they were drawing nearer to the bush.

“Sssh...” hissed Luna. Ginny squirmed, doing her best to remain quiet. 

“Hmmmph... well, never mind dear, I expect we’ll see them at lunchtime. I’ll introduce you then. I see a little boat out on the lake - perhaps they’re out there...” The footsteps and Hestia’s voice faded into the distance as she and the unknown girl traipsed back up to the castle. 

Ginny and Luna gasped in relief and burst into giggles at having almost been caught. Luna gave Ginny a kiss.

“How was it then?” asked Luna, grinning, fairly certain that she knew what the answer would be.

“That was amazing - I’ve never felt anything like that...” said Ginny, biting her lip and fluttering her eyelashes. “Did I ever tell you how much I love you Luna?”

“Only about a hundred times,” Luna retorted, beaming happily. “I love you too Ginny.”

As they dusted themselves off and dressed, shaking the twigs from their hair, the pair of them couldn’t help feeling curious about the new girl at Hogwarts. They scurried up to the castle for lunch, hoping to meet her. They arrived just in time to see a girl with long black hair covering her face dart out of the Great Hall with a plate of food.

“I wonder what that’s all about?” Ginny frowned in puzzlement as the girl exited through the front doors of the castle. “She’s a bit too old to be a First Year.”

“She looked sad and frightened,” said Luna, feeling rush of sympathy. “I wonder if she’s only just discovered her magic... She might be a late-bloomer - I’ve heard of them before.”

Seeing Neville sitting near the staff-table with Viktor, Ginny and Luna made their way through the Great Hall to see if they knew anything.

“I dunno,” Neville told them when they asked, looking very perplexed. “Dumbledore only told Viktor and me to leave her alone...”

“I think she might be ill,” Viktor added. “She get food, but looks at no-one.”

Luna furrowed her brow pensively as she put two and two together. She took Ginny aside and whispered in her ear. Ginny gasped in horror, suddenly not feeling quite so hungry.

**~o0o~**

Over the next few days, Jennifer had no idea yet what to make of Hogwarts. Hestia was really kind, but Jennifer missed her parents and she was still frightened. The old headmaster was nice and talked to her gently, but Jennifer couldn’t bear looking at the male professors, or the two boys who sat near the staff-table.

Sometimes she would glance at them, and she couldn’t help but see Ratface’s head on their shoulders. Jennifer would do a double-take, and see that whoever it was, it wasn’t really him, but it was still terrifying. Jennifer grabbed her food and hid in an empty classroom or outside behind a bush at mealtimes, unable to sit for one minute in the Great Hall with anyone else.

Jennifer had spied the other girls from a distance. They looked nice, but the idea of actually meeting them scared her. Jennifer felt too ashamed and humiliated to be near them, afraid that they would see how worthless she was.

At breakfast on Monday, as she had every day, Jennifer swiped a plate of food and ran outside before anyone could see her, hiding between some bushes and a low stone wall under a balustrade to eat. When she was finished, she began to sob, not knowing what to do next.

Jennifer angrily wiped her tears away. She was tired of crying. Mum and Dad weren’t coming back to make it all better, but she couldn’t help it. The tears kept falling.

She suddenly stopped when a pair of big round silvery-grey eyes peered at Jennifer through the leaves, belonging to a delicately featured face framed by dirty-blonde hair. Jennifer froze, not daring to breathe.

The girl crawled through the bushes and kneeled in the soil, peering sadly at Jennifer. The girl was slight, almost elfin, like a fairy; she didn’t look more than 12 or 13, and she was wearing a sky blue dress with a white pinafore.

“They aren’t all horrible,” the girl said quietly.

Jennifer blinked, swallowing uncomfortably, puzzled.

“Boys I mean,” the girl responded.

Jennifer shuddered.

“Well, I suppose a lot of them leave much to be desired. I’m not entirely fond of many of them myself. But I know one boy in particular who is really sweet... And there’s a few other nice ones too,” the girl replied. “Viktor and Neville for example... the boys staying here this summer.”

Jennifer thought this was the oddest conversation she had ever had. Odder than the ones with the headmaster, who seemed to know what Jennifer was going to say before she said it. Jennifer wasn’t even talking; she had spoken to the headmaster and to Hestia, but that was only because she knew she was supposed to speak when spoken to by adults who were looking after you. Jennifer couldn't bring herself to speak to anyone else.

But the blonde girl seemed perfectly keen to carry on a conversation with a mute girl as if she understood the words behind every silent gesture. Jennifer pulled up her knees to her chest and hugged her arms around them, casting down her eyes, long strands of ebony hair falling in her face.

“One of my friends’ younger sister was hurt badly by a boy too,” the girl said sadly. “She’s being looked after at home now.” 

Jennifer bit her lip, suddenly feeling sorry for someone other than herself.

“It’s alright to feel sad,” the girl sympathetically remarked. “I expect your own circumstances are particularly dreadful. Harry and Hermione were both sad when they first arrived at Hogwarts - at least that’s what Ginny told me. 

“Hermione didn’t have any friends at first, and lots of people were mean to her and bullied her - even Ginny’s brother did. Though Ginny’s brother isn’t so bad really, just a bit rude and thoughtless... still, he was quite mean to Hermione at first, but Harry told him off a few times. The last time he yelled at Ron - after the dragon - Ron tried hard to be a bit nicer...

“From what I read in the papers - my father’s newspaper anyway - Harry was treated quite awfully by his relatives for years. They made him sleep under a staircase and didn’t let him have any friends. And his uncle and cousin used to hit him all the time. 

“Harry doesn’t like to talk about it much... He was staying with them because when he was a baby, his parents were murdered by Voldemort...”

Unable to help herself, Jennifer gasped, and spoke for the first time - suddenly not feeling quite so alone.

“Snakeface,” Jennifer hissed, feeling a flare of anger - surprised when her misery diminished at the flash of rage. She flicked her hair out of her face and looked at the blonde girl directly. 

“Oh... is that what you call Voldemort?” the blonde girl asked.

“Er... y...yes - Voldemort killed my parents too - or rather, Ratface killed them on Snakeface’s... on Voldemort’s orders...”

“I’m very sorry. Do you want me to stop talking?”

Jennifer shook her head. “No... I can manage. So what happened with Harry and Hermione? Did they eventually get over things?” she asked hopefully.

“Oh yes...” the blonde girl smiled for the first time. “...Though he tries not to show it, I think Harry still feels a bit sad on occasion - I don’t know if it ever goes away completely. My own mum died a few years ago, and I still think about her from time to time.

“But it’s not so bad for Harry now - especially since he and Hermione got married...”

“Married, really?” Jennifer asked, letting her curiosity get the better of her, distracted momentarily from her own situation. “How old are they then?”

“Harry’s going to be fifteen in a few weeks,” the girl replied. “Hermione’s already fifteen.”

“Is... is that normal then? ... for wizards to get married so young I mean. I’m fifteen and I can’t imagine being married.”

“Not really - I’m fourteen and I can’t imagine it either. Harry and Hermione eloped... they’re allowed because they’d been emancipated. It was very romantic,” the blonde girl sighed happily, a dreamy expression on her face. But then a puzzled look crossed the girl’s features.

“Aren’t you a wizard too then?” the girl asked. “Ginny and I thought you were just a late bloomer...”

“No...” Jennifer shook her head. “I’m non-magical. I’m just here because... because... er... erm...” Jennifer reddened and trailed off, feeling humiliated and dirty again, unable to say it.

“It’s alright,” the girl said gently. “You don’t have to talk about it... I know things like that take time. But that explains why you didn’t seem to know who Harry was - he’s Harry Potter, and he’s very famous in the wizard world because he survived when his parents were killed by Voldemort. 

“I had assumed that you had only learned about Voldemort recently, being new to the wizard world... Still, it’s a bit odd that Dumbledore is letting you stay here - muggles usually aren’t allowed to know about the wizard world... except for immediate relatives of wizards of course.”

“I... er... I’m n...not sure why either r...really...” Her voice began to shake and she trembled as the reason that she was at Hogwarts hit her with full force again. 

Tears ran down her flushed cheeks once more. Jennifer hid her face behind her hair and bit her lip uncertainly, feeling miserable, like she’d rather be alone again. But Jennifer felt torn. She missed having friends, and the girl seemed very nice. 

If Jennifer didn’t have to talk about Ratface - about the filthy things she had done with Ratface - maybe she could manage to be friends with the girl. Jennifer took a deep breath and tried to finish her thought.

“The headmaster s...said it was b...because Snakeface - Voldemort I mean... The headmaster said that it was because my family had been attacked by Voldemort, but I can tell there’s something a bit more to it... something personal I think.”

The blonde girl nodded and peered at Jennifer perceptively 

“My name is Luna by the way... Luna Lovegood. You should meet my girlfriend Ginny - she’s very nice. She won’t try to make you talk about anything you don’t want to - I promise. 

“And you don’t have to talk to the boys if you don’t want to... Professor Dumbledore already told them that you might be frightened of them. Though you might like to talk to Harry when he returns from London with Hermione - they’ll be back some time tomorrow. I think you and he might have some things to talk about - and he’s very kind... he won’t pressure you.”

“Al...alright then. I th...think I’d like that. I’m Jennifer.... Jennifer Watts, and... and it’s nice to meet you Luna,” Jennifer sniffled. 

“It’s very nice to meet you too Jennifer,” Luna beamed. She stood up, brushed the twigs and dirt from her knees and skirt, then took one of Jennifer’s hands in her own, smiling dreamily. “Come on then - I’ll take you to meet Ginny now...”

Jennifer swallowed anxiously, heart pounding, feeling the warmth of Luna’s soft hand around hers. Taking a deep breath, Jennifer stood up and let the girl in the Alice-dress lead her out of the bushes.

**~o0o~**

Harry yawned and blearily opened his eyes, glad to be awake, his scar prickling. His dreams had been plagued with what he presumed to be flashbacks to the lurching, grunting horrors emerging from the mist in the labyrinth during the Third Task. He’d also had glimpses of Voldemort and Wormtail in some sort of castle with a witch whom he couldn’t recall seeing before, but somehow seemed vaguely familiar.

Sighing, Harry stroked Hermione’s tawny curls and kissed her forehead. Hermione murmured and pulled Harry closer for a proper kiss. The heat of Hermione’s embrace lessened the pain in his head like it always did. By the time their lips parted, Harry felt much better and Hermione’s hair gleamed golden in the sun streaming through the window.

“Mmm, Harry,” said Hermione, snuggling against him and smiling. “What time is it? I don’t want to ever get up.”

Harry looked at the clock, his eyes widening when he saw the time.

“Blimey, it’s late - almost noon...” he groaned.

“Well yesterday was quite exhausting,” Hermione pointed out. “It’s not really surprising that we slept so late.”

“Yeah... you’re right,” Harry agreed, “I still feel bloody knackered... I need some coffee. How about you?”

“I think I’ll be alright with just tea,” said Hermione.

Everyone seemed to be engaged in some other sort of activity as the Potters made their way down the stairs. On the way down they spotted Susan and Dudley in the parlour watching television. Moody was sitting at the table reading a newspaper. He looked up at Harry and Hermione with an amused expression on his scarred face. 

“Woke up late didja?” said Moody. “Can’t imagine why,” he added with a wink. “Anyway, we’re about to have lunch in a bit...”

“Er... just thought we’d start with a bit of coffee...” said Harry.

“...and tea,” Hermione added.

Harry and Hermione both turned a bit pink, wondering if Moody was just referring to the long day yesterday or implying something else. Just as the Potters sat down with their coffee and tea Dudley burst into the kitchen, his eyes wide with fear and excitement.

“Harry, come quick. You’ve got to see the news on the telly. You’re not going to believe this...”

Dudley was right. Harry and Hermione were stunned by the ongoing BBC reports from the MetroCentre Mall in Gateshead, as was Moody. Soon everyone else began arriving, wondering what the commotion was all about. Petunia gasped and fainted. Fleur and Dora arrived just in time to catch her before she hit the floor.

“Bloody Hell!” gasped Dora. “Is that what I think it is?”

“What’s going on?” asked Jean when she arrived with her sister and Abbie Brixton.

“Zombies,” said Dudley breathlessly. “They’re attacking that shopping centre in Gateshead.”

Seeing Petunia passed out, Abbie darted out of the parlour to find some smelling salts. She waved them under Petunia’s nose.

“Come on dear, you don’t need to see any more of this,” said Abbie, leading Petunia back to her room when she came to.

“I can’t believe that Zombies are real,” Dudley gasped as he watched the images on the television of Special Operations forces shooting ineffectually at the mass of lurching corpses surrounding and invading the MetroCentre Mall. The special police units were aiming for the heads, but nothing seemed to stop the “zombies.”

“Yeah... Though technically, wizards call them Inferi,” Harry said. “Apparently Zombies are something a bit different - I’m still not clear on what the difference is though.”

“Inferi are just mindless corpses reanimated and controlled by a spell - like a puppet, or more accurately, like a robot programmed to perform certain tasks,” Hermione explained. “Zombies are magically reanimated corpses too, but somehow, the soul of the person is also resurrected and trapped inside the otherwise still quite dead body.”

“That’s revolting...” Jean looked horrified.

“Voldemort used ‘em in the last war,” Moody growled. “Looks like he’s at it again. Bit odd seeing them still attackin’ in daytime though. They generally avoid the light and retreat when dawn breaks. I suppose Voldy is sending a message...”

“How do you kill them in real life?” Dudley asked excitedly. “Why don’t they die if you shoot them in the head.”

“Well, that’s just it. You can’t kill what’s dead already. They aren’t partially living with minimally functioning brains like the ones in muggle films seem to be,” Mad Eye replied. “Inferi don’t feel pain or fear. Though they don’t like light and heat, and can be repelled by certain Light and Heat spells... but to destroy ‘em completely you have to use some sort of fire spell. 

“Confringo can take out a few o’ the buggers at a time, or more depending on how powerful the spell is. A Firestorm spell works even better - takes out loads at a time... Disintegration spells like the Reductor Curse can work on ‘em too, but only the one you’re aiming at. If you’ve got people trapped by a load of the buggers, you’re in trouble...”

“The police could just use flame-throwers then, couldn’t they?” said Dudley.

The grizzled ex-Auror snorted and grimaced. He was starting to like Dudley’s enthusiasm.

“Too dangerous in this sorta situation, unless they wanna torch the whole mall and every living person inside... and you run the risk of flaming Inferi runnin’ around catchin’ everything else on fire before they finally succumb... Really, the only time you want to use a Firestorm spell is when you’ve got a load of ‘em in an enclosed area away from other people and flammable surroundings.”

“What about a Patronus?” Harry asked pensively, glancing at Hermione who was equally curious. Neither of them had thought to mention how their patronuses had affected the Inferi to Dumbledore during their conversation. 

“Eh? I suppose it would be quite effective as a shield or repellin’ charm actually,” Moody replied, “but that’s it. A Patronus can’t destroy anything... Still can’t figure out what happened to those Dementors at the maze. Dumbledore doesn’t even seem to know...”

Harry and Hermione shared an awkward look, but nobody caught it. The only other person who knew was Dora. Harry had been wanting to tell Sirius and Remus about it too, but he and Hermione really hadn’t had the opportunity yet. 

After a somber breakfast, Harry, Hermione, Dora, and Fleur packed up and readied themselves to return to Hogwarts.

“Look after yourselves, dears.” Jean gave Hermione and Harry both a hug, smiling at Dora and Fleur.

“We will Mum!” Hermione smiled tearfully, giving her mother a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll miss you...”

“Bye Mum!” Harry swallowed and gave Jean one last hug. One by one, the Potters followed Dora and Fleur into the green flames.

**~o0o~**

The Dark Lord was most pleased. He stroked Nagini’s head absentmindedly as he admired his and Bellatrix’s handiwork on the muggle contraption called television in one of the parlours of the new muggle residence which he and Wormtail had taken after the assault on Azkaban, having killed its inhabitants.

It was perfect. It had specifically been chosen during the planning phase: an old castle in the Scottish headlands big enough to house the Dark Lord’s growing army with an estate large enough for the Trolls and the Giants. And being a muggle dwelling, it was a residence which the Dark Witch and her Death Eaters - the Dark Lord’s treacherous ex-supporters he reminded himself - would not be expecting to find him in.

Voldemort had paid such muggle technologies little heed before, having been more inclined in his previous incarnation to reside in Pureblood wizard homes full of magic, where such technologies didn’t operate properly, if at all. But a number of Snatchers who were involved in the criminal underworld had mentioned the practical utility of the many electronic devices favoured by muggle burglars.

And the Dark Lord was nothing if not pragmatic. He had put the corpses of the muggle residents of the castle to good use as experimental subjects. They had become the first Inferi endowed with new abilities, which - with Wormtail’s skilled assistance - the Dark Lord and Bellatrix had created after the consummation of their union.

Wormtail had then organised the Snatchers into units which had been dispatched to ransack hospitals and police morgues for the Freshly Dead, and to plunder the contents of graveyards. These the Dark Lord would use for phase one of his plan. Bellatrix had ingeniously devised some new rituals and spells giving the Inferi the ability to operate in daylight without retreat.

The Dark Lord knew that this first strike would eventually be brought to an end, but it mattered little. The message for the Dark Witch and the Old Fool had been sent loud and clear. The Dark Witch could have the Dark Lord’s old supporters for now - they would soon beg to return to their True Master’s side when they began to fall before his True Might.

And the Old Fool - he would learn once and for all that Love was a weakness. There was no Good or Evil, no “Light” or “Dark,” only Power; and the Old Fool would bear witness to the Truth that those without magical blood were destined to be ruled by those who were willing to use that Power.

**~o0o~**

When the first memo hit his desk, Senior Undersecretary Weasley’s eyes bulged and he spat out his tea in horror. He groaned loudly; there was no way the Ministry was going to be able to contain this with a few obliviations. The muggle media were already all over it. Cursing Voldemort under his breath, Senior Undersecretary Weasley hurriedly scribbled a memo and threw some Floo Powder into the fireplace in his office.

**~o0o~**

Minister Dolores Umbridge had just had a very productive morning conferring with the muggle Prime Minister.

He was under a lot of pressure, despite the economic successes and the positive movement in the Northern Ireland peace process. His party was embroiled in one scandal after another, and his leadership was being challenged right and left. Since Dolores had come to know him shortly after she had taken office, the PM had been more than amenable to the suggestions of the Minister of Magic and they had come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.

She had just sat down with her first cup of tea upon her return to the Ministry when her hearth erupted into green flames and a memo flew out. She pursed her lips and snatched it out of the air. Minister Umbridge read over the short memo twice with a gasp. After the initial flash of anger faded, Dolores’s eyes narrowed and a cruel smile pulled at the corner of her lips.

This couldn’t be more perfect.

She would have to notify the PM immediately and offer the Ministry’s services of course - after all, only wizards could effectively halt an Inferi attack and rescue the muggles trapped inside the mall. But not until after she had arranged the assassination of two of the “wobblies” who had let the Potters off the hook.

Both lived very near Gateshead, and their deaths could easily be made to look like the work of Voldemort’s Inferi.

**~o0o~**

The rotund wizard with a walrus moustache, wearing a maroon velvet jacket, stepped out of the green flames and peered around the office before acknowledging the wizard with a long silvery beard who was sitting behind the desk. He nodded at Fawkes who fluttered his wings and trilled in recognition.

“Well Albus, it has been quite some time indeed since I have been in this office,” said the pleased looking wizard. “I must say you are looking quite well, all things considered... quite well indeed.”

“Thank you Horace - that is very kind of you to say.” Dumbledore’s clear blue eyes twinkled as he directed the wizard to take a seat in one of the well-cushioned chintz armchairs. “Some tea perhaps? You might also like some biscuits after your journey... or perhaps some crystallised pineapple?” he concluded with a wink.

“Oh, of course Albus...” Horace beamed as the chair creaked heavily under his weight. “I’d be delighted to my dear fellow... delighted.” 

“I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to join us Horace,” said Dumbledore after they had both taken a sip of tea, “...and for giving me your memory. That is most helpful, and quite brave of you.”

“Yes, well, seeing that you‘ve managed to keep Karkaroff alive might have something to do with it,” Horace chuckled. “That went a long way to reassuring me regarding your protection... quite persuasive I must say.

“Though, to be perfectly honest Albus, I must say that your enticements were especially convincing... I can’t say how pleased I am to have the chance to teach Harry Potter himself - that will be quite a feather in my cap... quite a feather indeed.

“Severus tells me that Mr Potter is quite the potions prodigy... and that Mr Potter’s wife is one such as well - one who might easily be a match for Lily. Two for the price of one... an offer that simply can’t be beaten Albus... simply marvelous, I must say.” 

“Quite!” Dumbledore agreed. “Though there is the small matter of convincing the Potters to both elect to take on an Alchemy course.”

“Oh that shan’t be a problem I don’t doubt... not a problem at all if they are truly as diligent as I have been told.”

“Indeed they are Horace...” Dumbledore regarded keenly the chuffed wizard before him, about to continue when an insistent knocking on his door alerted him. Professor McGonagall burst into his office, her features panic-stricken.

“Oh... good heavens! Horace,” she said, quite surprised to see him in Dumbledore’s office. “It’s very good to see you again... I’m sorry to interrupt but this is quite urgent Albus. You must come at once. A muggle shopping centre in Gateshead is under attack by an Inferi Swarm...”

“In broad daylight?” Dumbledore’s eyebrows shot up in perplex. “That is most unusual, and quite disturbing. Forgive me Horace, but it appears that I am needed. You will be quite safe here in the meantime...”

**~o0o~**

Head of the Auror Office, Rufus Scrimgeour scowled appraisingly at the chaotic scene at the Metrocentre Mall in Gateshead. He had just arrived, and had been given carte blanche to take over as an “MI5 Counter-terrorist Operations Manager.”

He wished that he had been called in sooner. It was shortly after noon now, and Scrimgeour wondered why it had taken so long for the Minister to call him. He supposed that perhaps it had taken the Minister a few hours to talk the muggle Prime Minister into letting wizards take over.

Scrimgeour also wished that he still had Kingsley Shacklebolt and John Dawlish to work with; they had been his top two agents. But they had been too close to Scrimgeour’s previous boss, Head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones, and she had been too close to the Crafty Old Coot who ran Hogwarts.

Head Auror Scrimgeour wasn’t entirely certain that he trusted Minister Umbridge - which wasn’t saying much, as he didn’t really trust anyone. She wore far too many hats for his liking - she had been Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office when she had also taken on the role of Fudge’s Senior Undersecretary.

Now, Dolores Umbridge was not only the Minister of Magic, but the Acting Head of the DMLE as well. And yet Scrimgeour was almost certain that Umbridge had also at one time been a staffer in the Department of Mysteries - an Unspeakable. Her career path was baffling to say the least.

Still, the Minister certainly had the right idea about Dumbledore. And unlike Fudge, Minister Umbridge was willing to do whatever it took to get the job done properly - no matter how harsh the measures, so Head Auror Scrimgeour had to give her that.

Scrimgeour's features hardened. First things first. It was time to issue a blackout on the muggle media coverage, and to clear all muggles from the area within a few mile radius so that the DMLE’s HIT-Wizards could put down the Inferi quickly with Firestorm spells without being observed. 

He would do his best to rescue some of the muggles in the mall of course, but he didn’t want to waste too much time, or put any wizards at risk trying to locate them all. If a few muggles died, that was unfortunate, but so be it.

There was a loud crack and Scrimgeour started.

“Mulligan, what are you doing here?” Scrimgeour noted Auror Mulligan’s sweaty disheveled appearance.

“Saving some muggles sir,” Mulligan responded with heavy breaths, “I got here an hour ago and I decided not to wait for the go ahead. I called in several other aurors too. We’ve just been rescuing and obliviating and staying out of sight of the muggle authorities.”

“Good... that’s good then,” Scrimgeour nodded, frowning, “Don’t worry about acting without orders. You did the right thing. My hands were tied until the Minister got the green-light from the Muggle PM.”

“So what now Sir?”

“You did your bit, let the HIT-Team do theirs. We're going to use Firestorm Spells and let the place burn.”

“Should I have a Magical Repair Team ready Sir?” Mulligan asked, perplexed. Scrimgeour shook his head.

“No, the Minister said not to worry.” Scrimgeour actually looked more than a bit surprised himself. “The muggle Prime Minister told her that the owners have insurance, and that he would be able to sell the cover story better if we just leave it destroyed - the muggle PM was already considering using flamethrowers and other incendiary weapons anyway.

“He is planning to tell the muggle civilians that the Inferi are ‘living dead,’ victims of an escaped, incurable, genetically modified necrotising virus... Apparently the concept of sustained attacks by reanimated corpses has already been widely introduced to muggles through their entertainments, and they will accept it quite readily...”

**~o0o~**

Albus Dumbledore sighed with distaste as Minerva, Poppy, and Filius obliviated the last few muggles that they had evacuated from the mall and sent them wandering into the crowds beyond the perimeter which the muggle police had created. With the magically implanted memories the muggles had been given, it would just be assumed that they had somehow managed to escape the hordes of Undead who had invaded the Mall.

Severus appeared out of nowhere with a loud pop.

“Auror Mulligan and I have finished with our lot Headmaster,” Snape said. “Scrimgeour finally arrived, and I sent Mulligan to cover for us. He has taken some of the muggles we rescued, so that Scrimgeour can claim a few saves.”

“Well done, Severus.” Dumbledore nodded approvingly. “We shall leave behind the bodies of those already dead for Rufus to find.”

“What on Earth took Scrimgeour so bloody long?” snarled Madam Pomfrey, who was covered in blood from the muggles she had treated.

“That is quite a puzzle indeed Poppy,” the headmaster responded. “However, we should count ourselves quite fortunate that we had the time to rescue those that we could without being harassed or impeded by the Ministry. If I know Rufus, he is no doubt preparing to burn the place to the ground to eliminate the Inferi threat as quickly as possible, with little regard for the lives of non-magical humans.”

“Yes, well, speaking of which, perhaps we should leave before Rufus discovers us here,” Minerva said, glancing around anxiously.

**~o0o~**

Dora burst out of the green flames into the Hogwarts Staff-room. She tripped over the hearth and fell into Fleur’s arms.

“Every. Bloody. Time...” Dora grumbled after she’d stopped hacking and caught her breath. “Thanks for the save Fleur.”

“I would not be much of a girlfriend if I did not, chérie,” Fleur smiled, trying her hardest not to titter. Harry and Hermione dizzily burst out of the green flames, coughing and wheezing, just in time to see Fleur give Dora a sultry kiss to cheer her up.

“Welcome back Tonks!”

Dora looked up, eyes widening, spying Lupin standing nearby with a wry smile on his face.

“Wotcher Lupin!” Dora turned pink. “Where’s Pomfrey? I thought she was supposed to be greetin’ us.”

“There’s been an Inferi attack...” Lupin began.

“In Gateshead... we know! We were watching it on the BBC news just before we left,” Hermione interjected, her voice slightly shrill with worry.

“Indeed,” Lupin nodded sadly, “Dumbledore took Pomfrey, Flitwick, McGonagall, and a few other professors and Order members to rescue as many muggles as they could. Sirius and I stayed behind with Hagrid to avoid trouble with the Ministry.”

“Of course,” Harry sighed.

“Indeed, it will be problematic enough as it is, if the current administration runs into any of the Order at the scene... Well, let’s just say we don’t want to give them any ideas about trying to pin this on Dumbledore,” Lupin replied.

“But that’s just mad!” gasped Hermione, bristling with outrage. “Everyone knows Dumbledore wouldn’t create Dark Creatures and set them on Muggles...”

“Believe me, that would not stop the Minister from trying anyway.”

“Yeah... we know,” Harry said quietly. “The Minister... She won’t stop at anything to get us. She’s trying to make it look like we’re the bad guys, and she’s been doing a pretty good job of it so far. We were lucky to get Ragnok on our side - he really swung it for us.”

“Yeah... but now that you’ve claimed your Seat on the Wizengamot Harry, you’ve set ‘er back a bit,” Dora said with some pride. “You shoulda seen ‘im Lupin. Harry was amazing - a real hero. The whole Wizengamot was in an uproar when ‘e and Hermione won - between their supporters and their detractors - but he shouted over all of them and shut the lot up.”

“It was fantastic! The look on Percy’s and that Foul Evil Toad’s faces when Harry took his Seat as a Warlock made my day!” Hermione squeaked, her eyes shining.

“That’s excellent Harry!” Lupin beamed. “Sirius will be absolutely thrilled to hear that...”

“Where is he anyway? I can’t wait to see him and tell him all about it,” Harry said with a grin.

“You can visit both of us in the Shrieking Shack after dinner for a bit if you would like,” Lupin replied cheerfully. “But I should think that you would want to spend a bit of time with your friends first.”

The Potters, Fleur, and Dora found Viktor and Neville outside on the lawn, where Viktor was helping Neville improve his broom riding skills. Harry grinned to see Neville actually enjoying himself on a broom for once, and Harry was determined to have a go at getting Hermione on a broom this summer. But Harry was a bit puzzled about one thing.

“Why aren’t you on the quidditch pitch?” 

“Ah... zat is because ve give Ginny and Luna time to show ze new girl vot is like riding broom,” Viktor replied.

“New girl?” asked Hermione, looking as perplexed as Harry. Dora and Fleur looked equally bewildered.

“Yeah...” Neville nodded. “There’s a new girl here for the summer - Ginny and Luna are with her. Viktor and I haven’t met her properly yet though, because Dumbledore said we’re to leave her alone until she’s ready to introduce herself.”

Their curiosity piqued, the Potters made their way to the quidditch pitch, followed by Dora and Fleur. Ginny and Luna swooped down to meet them and leapt off their brooms, squealing happily.

“You got off... you got off,” shrieked Ginny as she flung herself on the Potters. 

“I knew you would,” said Luna, a bit more sedately but grinning nonetheless.

Harry and Hermione looked up in the stands at the girl Neville and Viktor had told them about to see her watching them. It suddenly occurred to the Potters that it must be the rescued muggle girl when the sunlight caught her black hair and struck their eyes.

**~o0o~**

Luna had been right. Jennifer liked Ginny a lot. Jennifer felt a bit better hanging out with the girls. They had shown Jennifer how to play wizard chess and exploding snap, and chatted a bit about their lives, and what it was like being witches and going to school at Hogwarts.

Then Luna and Ginny had demonstrated flying on brooms, which Jennifer couldn’t help laughing about at first - despite herself - as it seemed so cliche. She couldn’t believe they really did that sort of thing. Luna invited Jennifer to sit on a broomstick with her while she flew, but Jennifer shook her head. It definitely seemed too scary.

But sitting in the stands and watching the girls swooping and diving, Jennifer had to admit that it looked exciting. A movement on the field caught Jennifer’s eye. Her stomach tied in knots when she spied four people whom she hadn’t met enter the field.

Jennifer relaxed a bit when she realised that they were friends of Luna and Ginny. But Jennifer became alarmed and looked for a place to hide when they spotted her and began to make their way into the stands. Jennifer hugged her knees to her chest and shrank back into her seat, letting her long dark hair hide her face.

Trembling, Jennifer peered between the strands of her ebony hair. Luna approached with the four newcomers. Jennifer’s eyes widened in recognition when they drew closer.

The girl with bushy light-brown hair was obviously Hermione. The older girls must be Dora and Fleur. Then the boy - Jennifer realised that he was the first one who didn’t induce an image of Ratface superimposed on his face. His eyes... they were so green, almost impossibly green, and they seemed too pretty to be a boy’s eyes.

“Hi Jennifer,” Luna said with a serene smile, “this is Harry Potter...”


	43. Rites of Renewal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more explicit version of this chapter is now available in _Moments in Love: The Steamy Version._

Both curious about the girl in the stands, Dora and Fleur had followed the others to meet her. Dora stiffened as they drew nearer to the girl. Despite the bright sunny afternoon, a chill ran up her spine and she clutched Fleur a bit tighter for reassurance. A surge of anger knotted Dora’s stomach when she saw the girl with black hair scrunch up and try to hide her face; she recognised that look. 

It was the same look which had caused Dora to nearly get herself expelled from Hogwarts - until Mad Eye had made her the offer that she couldn’t really refuse. It was the look which Dora had seen in her previous girlfriend’s eyes.

“Let’s hold back here for a moment Fleur,” she murmured. “I don’t wanna overwhelm her...” Though in truth, it was Dora herself who was feeling a bit overcome.

“Oui, Chérie...” Fleur nodded, biting her lip. The girl’s discomfort was quite apparent to her.

Finally having the chance to meet the girl that he had seen through Voldemort’s eyes, looking down from the top of basement stairs, Harry flushed and swallowed nervously when Luna introduced him. He felt embarrassed and ashamed to have seen Jennifer in such a vulnerable state. 

Jennifer opened her mouth to say hello. But it had gone dry, and she couldn’t speak. Luna put her arm around Jennifer as Ginny sat beside them both.

“Er... Hi Jennifer... erm... it’s... er... it’s nice to meet you...” Harry trailed off lamely, not quite meeting her eye and mentally kicking himself for not being able to think of anything better to say. Hermione squeezed his hand comfortingly.

Jennifer was startled, seeing that Harry was as anxious about meeting her as she was to meet him. Jennifer relaxed slightly and Luna’s smile widened.

“Hello,” said Jennifer, her voice small and slightly quavering. “It’s good to meet you too Harry. Th...thank you! The headmaster... he told me that it was you - that you were the one to thank for rescuing me...”

Harry winced and swallowed again, turning even redder, wondering just how much Dumbledore had told Jennifer.

“It... it’s alright,” said Jennifer, peering at Harry gratefully. “If you hadn’t... if you hadn’t seen me somehow, nobody would’ve found me, and I... I probably would’ve died...”

After some more awkward introductions, it was obvious to Hermione that Jennifer was feeling a bit overwhelmed. Hermione suggested that they spend a bit more time together whenever Jennifer felt up to it; she and Harry left everyone to it, deciding it was time to visit Sirius. Taking the secret tunnel under the Whomping Willow, they arrived at the Shrieking Shack to find Sirius and Remus awaiting them. There was an afternoon Tea-spread on the table with pork pies, finger sandwiches, and slab of Cheshire cheese, but instead of tea a large bottle and several wine glasses stood on a lace doily in the centre of the table. 

“I heard Ragnok really gave that Old Hag at the Ministry what-for,” Sirius grinned, popping open the bottle of Elf-made-wine. “...And that you took the Wizengamot by storm. Good show Harry!”

“And it appears that Tonks will be needing new employment,” Remus raised his eyebrows, his moustache twitching. “...And possibly new lodgings as well when she’s not in school?”

“Er... yeah,” said Harry, looking a bit surprised, wondering what Remus had heard. “I might as well tell you both anyway. I asked Dora to come and live with me and Hermione while we’re not at school...”

“...and she’s going to stay on at Hogwarts as a _real_ post-grad student now,” Hermione added happily. 

“Indeed,” said Remus. “Dumbledore considered that it might be good to maintain Tonks’ cover to keep her at Hogwarts anyway. She might as well further her education a bit while she’s at it.”

“That only makes sense. Dora will need to train for a new career anyway,” said Sirius, taking a swig of the Elf-wine. “At least until we get a more amenable administration in the Ministry.”

“Er... about that, Sirius...” Harry began, all of a sudden feeling a bit awkward, as he was more or less the one who had convinced Dora to follow her dreams.

“Please, don’t be cross with Harry,” Hermione squeaked, coming to his rescue, “One of the reasons Harry offered Dora to come and live with us, is because he wants Dora to be happy and do her music or draw comics...”

“Why would I be cross?” chortled Sirius, “I’m her elder cousin, not her father. I think that’s an excellent idea - she is your family as well, after all... and it’ll be nice for Dora to get a chance to pursue her dreams.”

“Andromeda and Ted might have a few issues though...” sighed Remus, “You’ll keep this to yourself for now I hope Sirius. It’s up to Dora to tell them.”

“Of course I will Remus,” Sirius responded in a slightly wounded tone. “I want Dora to be happy too. Speaking of which, it’s nice that she finally found a new girlfriend.” Sirius turned to Harry and smirked. “So Harry, I take it Fleur will eventually be staying with you and Hermione as well? Maybe Skeeter was onto something...?” 

Harry and Hermione both turned pink, wondering how Sirius and Remus could have possibly gleaned their apparent knowledge of some of the Potters’ plans for the future. But they couldn’t help being amused by Sirius’s cheeky insinuation, regardless.

“Sirius, you promised you wouldn’t tease them...” Remus admonished Sirius. “In any case, whatever they get up to is their own business.”

“See what I have to deal with!?” Sirius rolled his eyes, then he winked at Harry and Hermione, taking another sip of the wine. “That’s why I love Remus though. He keeps me on the straight and narrow - keeps me sane.”

Remus smiled wryly, palming his reddening face. For their part, Harry and Hermione both grinned, tickled by the exchange. They took a sip from their own glasses of the Elf-wine. Harry thought it was about time to give Sirius a taste of his own medicine, and satisfy his curiosity at the same time.

“Er... I hope you don’t mind me asking, Sirius,” Harry began, a perfectly innocent expression on his face, “but why did you have posters of muggle pin-up girls on your wall? They were still there the last time I had a look in your room.”

Hermione and Remus both tried to stifle their smirks. For the first time during the visit, Sirius looked slightly abashed. 

“Touché Harry! Well... erm... that’s a bit awkward to explain... On the one hand, I was trying to take the piss out of Mum and Dad by putting up pictures of muggles, but on the other hand, I...er... I didn’t want them or Regulus to know that I liked blokes too...”

Sirius glanced at Remus and grinned. “...Especially one in particular.”

After swallowing a mouthful of pork pie, Harry asked the next question on the top of his mind.

“Er... Sirius, I was wondering... We spotted a portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black in the National Portrait Gallery in London...”

“...and we were both curious,” continued Hermione. “If he was in Slytherin and a Pureblood, what would he be doing in a muggle art gallery?”

“Hah!” Sirius snorted. “Good question... He was after all a real Pureblood snob - and the most hated headmaster to ever grace the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. But during Queen Victoria’s reign he was the leader of a movement by some Pureblood families to openly take control of muggle Britain through the political process. 

“It was to that end he made his presence known to the Queen’s court - but of course at the time pretending to be part of a ‘muggle’ Occult secret society designed to accustom muggles to the idea of wizard rule.” 

“He was in large part responsible for the rise of muggle Occult groups during the late Victorian era...” Remus added. “Aleister Crowley is one of the most famous muggle ‘sorcerers’ from that period who was influenced by Phineas. 

“The movement was eventually squashed by the Purebloods who believed that the wizard world should remain a secret. It is part of wizarding history not taught in history courses for rather obvious reasons.” 

To say that Harry and Hermione were both stunned and fascinated by the information would be an understatement. They spent the rest of their celebration with Sirius and Remus peppering them with questions on the topic.

Following Tea with Remus and Sirius, still mulling over the astonishing revelations, Harry and Hermione made their way back to the castle, feeling mildly tipsy from the Elf-wine. They spotted Professor McGonagall and Flitwick near the entrance to the Great Hall, both looking a bit worn and frayed with what appeared to be blood stains on their clothing. 

“Ah... there you are, Potters,” said McGonagall. “Professor Dumbledore would like a moment with you in his office.” 

“Professor McGonagall, are you alright?” asked Hermione, concerned by the sight of the blood. 

“Perfectly, Mrs Potter. Now don’t keep the headmaster waiting... no doubt he shall be wanting to clean up a bit as well.”

As Harry and Hermione took seats in the comfy armchairs in front of Dumbledore’s desk, they both noticed how disheveled and haggard he looked. His own robes were splotchy with red stains as well. Dumbledore waved his wand, and a pot of tea with three cups appeared, which the Potters were both pleased to see, as they hadn’t actually had any tea at Teatime with Sirius and Remus.

“Please, help yourselves, and bear with me for a moment... I must apologise for my appearance. It has been a rather long and trying day,” said Dumbledore.

“Remus told us you were rescuing muggles,” Harry acknowledged after taking a sip of tea. Curiosity got the better of him. “Did you have to fight any Inferi yourself Sir?”

“Ah, indeed, I did have to employ a disintegration curse several times myself,” the headmaster replied, “...and I am most grateful for the quick reflexes of Professor Flitwick. If it were not for him, we would most likely be having this chat in the hospital wing.”

“Are you alright Professor?” asked Hermione, her eyes wide at the frightful notion of Dumbledore being injured by Inferi.

Albus Dumbledore’s eyes began to twinkle, seeing the care and concern in his students’ faces.

“Quite alright Mrs Potter... Just a bit shaken still. However, perhaps we should move on to why I asked to meet with you and Harry. First, I wish to express my utmost relief that you both survived your encounter with the Minister.

“However, I also have some information to impart. I managed to uncover and compile some very interesting particulars about Voldemort’s history which I believe are important to share with you both. 

“I have finally managed to obtain perhaps the most critical piece of the puzzle only recently, and I would like you to examine it with me. Though, I think perhaps it can wait until tomorrow, or even the day after... I am quite worn out and it behooves me to confer with some members of the Order after recent events.

“In the meantime, please feel free to make continued use of the delightfully magical Room of Requirement. I would also, at some point, perhaps... after one of your... erm... _sessions,_ like to examine some of your Spell-work and observe any changes...”

“Really?” Hermione interjected, vibrating excitedly, “Are we going to do some scientific experiments then?” she asked. Harry’s eyes began to gleam with thrill as well.

The headmaster nodded, pleased to see the eagerness to explore the boundaries of magic in the Potters’ faces.

“Yes, indeed we shall Mrs Potter... and as I was about to say, I am especially keen to examine your Patroni - and if my instrument readings are correct, it would appear that your Patronus practice in the Room of Requirement has also accrued to Hogwarts. By all means, I would be delighted for you to continue your practice with such as well”

**~o0o~**

As Jennifer sat with Luna and Ginny on one of the stone benches along the front of the castle, plates of dinner on their laps, one by one stars began peeking like little diamonds from the deepening purple curtain of sky and she felt a surge of emotion. She took another bite of the shepherd’s pie and for the first time since she had arrived at Hogwarts, Jennifer actually noticed how delicious the food was.

“You alright?” asked Ginny, seeing a tear trickling down one of Jennifer’s cheeks. Jennifer nodded.

“Yeah... yeah I think I am actually...” Jennifer let out a peaceful sort of sigh, feeling the knot of tension in her middle unwinding. She glanced at Luna apologetically. “And thanks for bringing Harry Potter to meet me Luna. I... I suppose I wasn’t really sure that I could manage after all... but I did - I needed to. Sorry I wasn’t up for much more than that.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” said Luna kindly. “I know Harry understands. It must have been very overwhelming for you.”

“I _want_ to talk to Harry some more... I really do...” Jennifer offered Luna a wan little smile. “Maybe tomorrow I can manage to actually hang out with him and the others a bit...”

**~o0o~**

The Potters and Fleur couldn’t help but notice Dora picking at her food moodily all through dinner, her spiky hair listless and a subdued shade of violet. Harry and Hermione glanced at each other in silent communication as they walked back through the castle with Dora and Fleur to their respective quarters in the Unaffiliated corridor.

“Would you and Fleur like to join us for a bit, Dora?” asked Hermione, a note of concern in her voice. “Maybe have something to drink?” 

“What? Oh... er...” Dora swallowed and glanced at Fleur, not sure what she wanted really. Fleur gave her a sad little smile.

“Chérie, per’aps you would like to talk a bit... non? ... tell us what ees wrong?”

Dora sighed. She hated talking about it - hated thinking about it. But now that the burning memory had been rekindled, Dora knew that she wasn’t going to get off that easy. She wasn’t going to be able to tamp it down and it might eat at her for days... or even weeks. 

She bit her lip, eyes glistening, then slowly nodded. “Al... alright then... Might as well I s’pose. Maybe I’ll sleep a bit better if I do.”

When they were all settled around the crackling fire in the Potters’ sitting room, holding mugs of steaming cocoa, Dora finally revealed herself. As they listened, Harry and Hermione remembered back to the very first day that they’d met Dora, and the painful memory that she had glossed over during her first visit to their private chambers. 

“It all ‘appened in sixth year,” Dora began glumly, chewing on a fingernail. “My girlfriend... it was after dinner and just before curfew one evenin’ - I found ‘er lookin’ a lot like Jennifer did this afternoon. She wouldn’t tell me what happened, but I kept naggin’ her until she finally did.

“She told me she’d been raped - didn’t wanna tell me ‘oo’d done it... but I finally got that outta her too. After she’d told me, I tracked down the bloke and went ballistic on ‘im... beat him to a pulp with my bare ‘ands...

“Anyway, the long and short of it is that when they pulled me offa him, she’d totally clammed up... she was too afraid of ‘is family to say anything or press charges - they were pureblood, old time Voldy supporters like the Malfoys, and she was muggleborn. Under the circumstances, there wasn’t much Dumbledore could do, and to make matters worse, the bloody bastard’s parents pressed charges against _**me!”**_

There were horrified gasps and shocked looks all around, but Dora paid them little heed as she went on.

“O’ course Dumbledore - bein’ ‘oo he is and all - knew that the arse’ole had it comin’... but he couldn’t do a whole lot to ‘elp me without proof. In the end, the best he could do was get Mad Eye to convince the parents to drop the charges against me... Dunno how Mad Eye managed it - maybe he had somethin’ on ‘em that woulda made them look bad. 

“But anyway, the deal with Mad Eye involved recruitin’ me to join the Auror corps after graduation... so that’s ‘ow I got roped into the Ministry. And... and seein’ Jennifer today just brought it all back,” Dora concluded, the tears which had been threatening all evening finally breaking free and rolling down her cheeks.

Hermione bit her lip, wringing her hands. Harry put his arms around her comfortingly, but sensing there was a bit more to the story, his curiosity got the better of him.

“Er... if... if you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your girlfriend?” asked Harry a bit awkwardly. “I mean... obviously you’re not still together.”

“She... she was never the same after that,” Dora replied. “She sorta withdrew into ‘erself. I wanted to stay together... to look after her. But she pulled away, an’ I haven’t heard from her in a good long while.” 

“I am so sorry Chérie...” Fleur pulled Dora closer into a warm embrace and kissed her forehead. “Zat you should ‘ave to relive such a tragique experience c’est horrible.”

“It’s alright now,” Dora sniffled, dabbing her nose with a hanky. “I’ll be okay... really! I think I just needed to get that outta my system. I’ve been holdin’ that in for a long time...”

**~o0o~**

Dora sighed happily as she woke, feeling a lot better than she had yesterday evening, especially snuggled in Fleur’s embrace. In fact, Dora felt a lot lighter than she had in quite some time. As Dora stirred in her arms, Fleur’s eyelashes fluttered open.

“Bonjour Dora.” Fleur smiled when Dora turned around, looking much more cheerful. 

One of the things that Fleur liked most about Dora was her generally spirited nature and sense of fun. Seeing Dora so despondent the night before had been disconcerting to say the least.

“Mornin’ Fleur,” Dora grinned and planted a wet kiss on Fleur’s lips. “Up for some breakfast yet?”

“Oui, mon amour... Zat sounds très bien.”

On the way to the Great Hall Dora and Fleur waved at Luna and Ginny, who were heading towards the front doors with Jennifer in tow and platefuls of breakfast in their hands. The Potters looked up from the Mingling Table where they were already digging into their own breakfasts.

Hermione beamed and Harry washed down his mouthful of banger with some tea, grinning at Dora when she took a seat, both of them pleased to see her looking more cheered. Just as Fleur sat beside Dora, Hedwig swooped into the Great Hall and settled on Hermione’s shoulder.

“Good Morning Hedwig,” said Hermione. 

She buttered a crumpet for the snowy owl who had dropped the two newspapers on the table beside her. Hedwig fondly nibbled Hermione’s ear before flying off with the crumpet in her beak.

“So, what’s the good news today?” asked Harry, his voice containing more than a hint of sarcasm.

Hermione peered at the headlines and sighed. “Nothing we didn’t expect Harry - take a look for yourself.”

Harry shook his head and grimaced. Both papers featured the Gateshead Inferi attacks on the front page, but the _Daily Prophet’s_ top story had a lurid headline indicating that the Minister had found someone just as “creative” as Rita Skeeter had been to replace her.

**The Potter Conspiracy:  
Wizengamot Compromised, Imperius or Bribery?**

Dora poured herself a cup of tea while she waited for Harry to hold up the paper for all to see. She took one look and nearly spat the first sip out when she read the headline.

“What a bloody load of rubbish...” Dora snorted, rolling her eyes.

Fleur glanced at the Headlines and scowled. “Eet ees too early for zis nonsense today... Per’aps some coffee first.”

“I’m glad you don’t have to work at the Ministry anymore.” Harry grinned at Dora as he picked up the _Quibbler._ His brows furrowed in thought when he saw the _Quibbler’s_ headline.

**Inferi Attack at Metrocentre Mall  
Two Wizengamot Members Discovered among the Dead**

“That’s odd! Does that seem strange to you Hermione?” Harry asked after skimming the article.

“Yes it does Harry. According to this article, the two members who were allegedly killed by Inferi are Henry Wensleydale and Marmaduke Ventosus Dithers - two of the “wobblies” in the middle who supported us during the trial.”

“Mr Lovegood’s reporter seems to think it’s odd too,” Harry remarked.

“You’re right Harry,” Hermione nodded as she continued reading. “It says here that, ‘...though they both live in the Gateshead area, neither one of them have been known to frequent muggle shopping centres. Despite claims by Ministry officials, Aurors interviewed on site declared that no wizard bodies had been discovered, suggesting that neither Wizengamot member was at the scene.’”

A voice distracted the four at the Mingling Table and they all looked up to see who had finally arrived for breakfast.

“Hi Neville,” said Harry. 

“Morning Harry,” said Neville, smiling at everyone. “Glad you’re all back. It’ll be nice to have a bit more company.”

As Neville took a seat, Harry glanced at the staff-table, where Dumbledore and the professors appeared to be shaking their heads and groaning as they read their own copies of the papers. At one end of the staff-table, Harry spied Karkaroff and Viktor sitting next to him eating porridge.

At the other end Harry spotted a portly wizard wearing a maroon velvet jacket and sporting a walrus moustache chatting to Hagrid.

“I wonder who that is?” Harry muttered in puzzlement. Hermione shook her head, equally mystified.

“No idea...” said Neville, looking surprised. “I haven’t seen him before today.”

“He looks vaguely familiar,” Dora frowned pensively. “But I can’t recall where I might’ve seen ‘im before.”

Fleur shook her head. “I have nevair seen him eizzer, ‘Arry.”

“I suppose we’ll meet him soon enough,” Hermione responded after a moment of contemplation. “I expect he’s just a member of the Order that we haven’t met yet.”

“Yeah... that seems likely...” Harry nodded in agreement, before glancing down at the other end of the table again. “Viktor looks a bit down at the mouth today.”

“He is...” Neville sighed wistfully, thinking about Hannah. “He’s missing Lavender. He was hoping she might come to Hogwarts for the summer too, but her parents wouldn’t let her...”

“Maybe we should try and cheer Viktor up a bit later on today and do a bit of flying with him,” said Hermione.

 _“We?”_ Harry raised his eyebrows and grinned at Hermione. She blushed and poked Harry in the ribs, sticking her tongue out at him.

“I meant you and the others, Harry, not _**me...**_ I’ll be watching from the stands where I know I’ll be safe.”

“Oh come on Hermione. Why not give it a go?” Harry said eagerly. “You can ride on my broom with me... I’ve been dying to take you up - there was just too much going on this year, but there’s loads of time now that it’s summer...”

“I... I really don’t think so Harry,” Hermione squeaked anxiously, seeing the gleam in his eyes.

“It’s really not so bad Hermione,” said Neville. “Since Viktor’s been helping me, I’m actually starting to enjoy flying...”

“Anyway, I’ll do all the work Hermione - all you have to do is hold on tight...” Harry gave Hermione his best puppy-dog eyes. “Don’t you remember how fun the ride on Buckbeak was? It’ll be a much smoother ride on the broom.” 

When Hermione bit her lip, Dora could see her beginning to waver. Grinning, Dora reckoned that Hermione just needed a few more words of encouragement. 

“Go on Hermione,” she said. “You’ll be perfectly safe with Harry. You know you will...”

“Fine... alright then,” Hermione grumbled, finally relenting.

“Right, sounds like a plan then Hermione. You won’t regret it!” Harry concurred happily while the others giggled. “Later on it is then.” Harry paused and looked serious, peering at everyone, especially Neville.

“I... I’ve been thinking,” Harry continued, “I want us to keep training to fight - Neville, you and Ginny and Luna ought to join us as well. And... and I think everyone should learn how to perform the patronus charm...”

“That’s an excellent idea Harry!” Hermione’s eyes shone. “Everyone needs to begin preparing for whatever Voldemort or the Minister throws at us now.”

“I agree,” Dora gazed at Harry proudly. “That’s an outstandin’ idea Harry. I can help with the advanced combat magic and the hand to hand - but we’ll follow your lead, alright?”

“Oh... er... what?” Harry gulped, suddenly nervous as they all peered at him eagerly. “Er... I...erm... I didn’t mean that I should be in charge - I just meant... Look, I don’t know enough magic yet...”

“That doesn’t matter Harry,” Dora retorted. “I can show you lot some things you may not ‘ave learned yet, but _**you,**_ Harry - you’re a natural born leader. You’ve got all the right instincts - look ‘ow you took charge over the Third Task...”

“But... but I... I didn’t really do anything other than convince everyone to work together...” Harry interrupted, perplexed. “I fought as hard as I could, but it wasn’t enough. Fleur and Viktor and Cedric all got hurt - we could’ve all died...”

“But we did not - thanks to you ‘Arry...” said Fleur softly. “Eet ees because of you that we all lived. You brought us all togezzer - to fight as one. And do not forget ze Second Task - eet is only because of you that ze Grindylows did not overcome me...

“You are too humble ‘Arry - did I not follow you into battle wiz ze Nereid? ... And when you told me to leave with Gabrielle and Cho Chang, I did what you told me to do, even though I wanted to stay and fight. Eet ees you ‘Arry who really saved everyone in ze Second Task...”

“That’s the absolute truth,” Hermione said forcefully, glowering at Harry when he tried to interrupt Fleur. “Harry also knew _**exactly**_ what to say to convince the Merpeople to let us go when they trapped us, and to stop them from fighting among themselves. He was BRILLIANT!” Hermione glared at Harry, daring him to contradict her.

Harry swallowed again, trying to think of something else to say.

“But you helped me loads Hermione,” Harry said in a small voice. “I would’ve never survived the Triwiz without you.”

Hermione’s features softened as she melted in Harry’s glistening gaze. She leaned in and kissed him.

“I’ll always be there for you Harry, because I love you. And I love you because you always step up to try and protect everyone without even thinking about it, no matter who it is, no matter what the odds - without even stopping to think about yourself. You always put others first - and that’s why we’ll follow you... wherever you lead us.”

Harry gulped yet again and sighed. Everyone seemed to be in complete agreement. How could he say no?

He had one final go at it.

“But what if I’m ever wrong?” Harry asked quietly.

“Nobody’s perfect Harry,” Hermione answered. “But we know you’ll always try to do the right thing, and... and I’ll always be there to help you find the right path Harry,” Hermione concluded.

“Alright then,” said Harry nodding. “If that’s what you really want...”

**~o0o~**

Hermione spent some time trying to teach Harry enough intermediate algebra so that he could start working on his Arithmancy summer assignment. Fleur was helping Ginny work on her summer homework and Luna was reading a book about Mind Healing. Dora leaned back in one of the library’s comfy chairs drawing some pencil sketches.

“Why don’t you take a break Harry! Do some runework, or maybe just some light reading for fun,” said Hermione, sensing his frustration. 

“We can pick this up again tomorrow - there’s plenty of time. I think you’re really starting to get the hang of it Harry,” she concluded encouragingly. 

“Thanks Hermione,” Harry sighed in relief, “My brain feels like it’s going to explode. I just don’t get quadratic equations. How can an equation have more than one correct answer?”

“Maybe you should go and fly a bit right now Harry,” Luna suggested. “It says in this Mind Healing book that sometimes it’s best to move on to a physical activity when you’re stumped about something. 

“I’m surprised really. I thought there would be more magic spells involved... or potions. But it seems that a lot of Mind Healing doesn’t involve any magic at all - not directly anyway.”

Soon Harry had Hermione down on the quidditch pitch peering at his Firebolt dubiously.

“Are you sure about this Harry?” Hermione moaned.

“You can’t back out now Hermione,” Harry grinned. “There’s plenty of room. Just hold onto me tight and think about whatever you think about when you cast your Patronus.”

Hermione nervously straddled the broom behind Harry, wrapping her arms around his middle. She let out a little squeak of fright as Harry lifted off and soared into the air. Moments later he was gleefully swooping around the quidditch pitch, Hermione clinging to him with a death-grip, her bushy hair whipping in the wind. She opened her eyes briefly, shrieked, and shut them again.

Viktor grinned as he flew by the Potters on his own broom. Ginny, Luna and Neville zipped around behind them, trying to keep up. Viktor was delighted to have Harry back. Flying with friends was more distracting than flying alone.

As Hermione continued to clutch Harry around his waist, she slowly started to relax. It felt good to be holding Harry so closely, and she began to notice other surprising sensations. She was wearing a skirt, and a warm tingle of arousal coursed through Hermione as the vibrations tickled her and Harry soared higher and higher. She bit her lip, unable to avoid letting out a little moan of pleasure. 

She finally opened her eyes properly, for the first time since the ride on the hippogriff enjoying the sensation of the wind rushing by. Harry banked hard, and Hermione gasped when the broom shuddered as the vibrations increased in intensity. 

Sensing Hermione’s confidence growing, Harry decided it was time to be a bit more adventurous. Harry dove and flew low above the treetops heading towards the Black Lake, leaving the others behind. When Harry buzzed the surface of the lake and the fine mist of water stung her face, Hermione lost herself, squeaking happily and hanging onto Harry for all she was worth.

Harry felt Hermione’s responses and he grinned. His breath quickening and his pulse racing, Harry dove into the woods.

As soon as they touched down Harry dropped his Firebolt and he and Hermione tumbled giddily into the ferns and underbrush in a clearing surrounded by oaks, startling several squirrels who were arguing over a pile of acorns. The agitated squirrels scampered quickly up into the branches. 

Hermione gasped as she peaked again. Harry was so hot that he didn’t care that they were outside, in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, possibly to be discovered by Hagrid or the centaurs should they stumble across them. Hermione heatedly tugged off her knickers and tossed them into the bushes, glad now that she wasn’t wearing jeans. She unbuckled Harry’s belt and they rolled in the leaves, both of them panting heavily.

Harry grinned as Hermione readied herself. Unable to resist, Harry feverously delved right in. Soon Hermione's back arched as another surge of ecstasy rippled through her; she drew Harry closer for an impassioned kiss. Hermione was soon taken by a rapturous crescendo of elation, and Harry exploded as the cyclone of ardour took him as well. Sparks of magic flew and the ground quaked.

A flock of blue-tits took flight, chirping and twittering above the trees, and the squirrels clung to the branches until the oaks eventually stopped shaking. Harry slumped on top of Hermione, gasping, and they both finally succumbed to oblivion.

When Harry came to, he grinned when he realised that Hermione was ready for another go.

Hermione stopped for a moment and grinned back at Harry. Sensing his puzzlement she answered his unasked question.

“I’m not really certain Harry. I... I think I just got a real thrill from riding on your broom with you. I suppose being scared of heights just added a bit to the excitement of holding you - and feeling safe with you as the wind rushed by - and feeling the broomstick vibrating in just the right spots... and... and...”

“Oh bother it - I’m over-thinking again...” Hermione shut-up and continued her ministrations while the squirrels watched, chittering in agitation.

Harry reached out both hands and stroked Hermione’s bushy hair. Despite having recently concluded a quite robust encounter, it didn’t take long for Harry to feel the surges of euphoria take him again. Harry gasped, hands tangled in Hermione’s tawny tresses.

A thundering of hooves broke the moment.

Hermione shrieked. She propelled herself into Harry’s arms and shivered. Harry’s eyes bulged and his gasps of pleasure caught in his throat. He held his breath and stared in trepidation at the centaur who had entered the clearing.

Harry gulped anxiously and held his trembling Hermione tightly. It was the last centaur in the world that he had ever wanted to see again.

Bane loomed over the pair darkly, his face displaying consternation and bewilderment. Hermione flushed and with shaking hands she pushed her skirt down to cover herself.

The centaur with wild black hair didn’t seem to know what to make of the situation. He had angrily entered the clearing with an arrow strung in his bow, prepared to unleash it into whomever had disturbed the forest - full grown wizard or student, he didn’t care. Firenze or Ronan weren’t around to restrain him today.

Bane’s rage battled his confusion as he peered at the two young wizards. Bane’s nostrils flared and he pawed the ground with his hooves. He had witnessed the last moment of the pair’s coupling, and the air was heavy with their scent.

The atmosphere of the glade near the lakeshore seemed to be quite different from what he had expected. Bane’s skin prickled as he sensed the presence of magic surrounding him. But this was unlike the magic he usually sensed when wizards were near, which more often than not felt like a threat of violence. 

This felt more like Spring - like life itself. Bane glanced in wonder at the green shoots of new growth and the blooming wild-flowers poking up through the leaves and underbrush on the forest floor. They hadn’t been there when he had passed through the clearing earlier that morning. 

The centaur stared at Harry and Hermione once more. The pounding of the boy’s heart caught Bane’s ears as the boy protectively clutched the girl. Bane swished his black horse tail and began to calm, unstringing the arrow from his bow.

“You are a very unusual wizard Harry Potter... most unusual indeed.”

Harry let out his breath heavily, relief filling him as the fierceness departed the centaur’s countenance.

“You and your beloved are welcome in this forest at any time Harry Potter. My apologies for disturbing you...” Bane swallowed and a brief look of sorrow crossed his features.

“It is my sincerest hope that our interpretation of the Movement of the Heavens is wrong - the world could use more wizards such as yourself. May fortune shine upon you... young wizard.”

**~o0o~**

“Bloody Hell Hermione - that was scary! I thought we were done for... Bane always hated me! I don’t understand... What just happened?”

Hermione stopped walking and turned to face Harry, biting her lip pensively, gazing at him with her big brown eyes.

“I think that perhaps he might have seen you for who you really are Harry,” she replied, her own features filled with perplex as she tried to make sense of things.

“I was terrified when he found us - Bane was filled with such a hate for wizards. But... but then he saw you with me... trying to protect me...” Hermione paused. She smiled and gave Harry a kiss.

“And I... I’m still not entirely certain why, but I think... I think suddenly, in that moment, Bane finally realised that you’re different from most wizards - like the Dragon and the Unicorn did.”

“You made a new friend today Harry,” Hermione concluded.

Harry blinked, then a smile crept to his lips and he shook his head in amazement. He leaned in and tenderly returned Hermione’s kiss before continuing the trek back up to the castle, his broom in one hand and Hermione’s hand in the other.

“Well... who would’ve guessed?” Harry said with a laugh after a few steps. “All I had to do to make friends with the centaurs was put on a show for them with you.”

“Prat!” Hermione giggled, swatting Harry playfully with her free hand.

As they drew closer to the massive doors of the Main Entrance, Harry and Hermione were spotted by the Headmaster and the man with a walrus moustache. They appeared to be exiting the castle to take a stroll around the grounds.

Hermione eeped, and blushed, quickly rubbing at the streaks of dirt on her face with her hanky. She had forgotten the state of her appearance after the commotion with the centaur, having just wanted to leave the clearing as quickly as possible. Hermione groaned, realising that she had also forgotten her knickers and left them dangling from the branches of a bush. Hermione tugged at Harry’s sleeve and he stopped.

Harry tried very hard not to grin as Hermione hid behind him and performed a quick spell to clean the dirty spots on her skirt. There was nothing she could do immediately about her knickers though.

“Ah there you are,” the headmaster said warmly as he and the man with the moustache approached. “Horace, I’d like you to meet Mr and Mrs Potter...”

Hermione turned crimson and bit her lips, crossing her hands in front of her skirt. For his part, Harry did an excellent job of maintaining a straight face, and he immediately stuck his hand out to draw attention to himself.

“Er... Hello...” Harry began.

“Harry,” the Headmaster continued, his eyes sparkling in the sunlight, “this is Horace Slughorn. He was once one of Hogwarts _**finest**_ Potions professors, not to mention being an exceptional Alchemist...”

“Albus, please, you are too kind...” Horace interjected with an air of humility - though Harry could tell that Slughorn was quite chuffed at the heaped praise.

“...and former Head of Slytherin House,” Dumbledore said as Slughorn took Harry’s hand and shook it.

“Delighted to meet you Mr Potter... simply delighted,” Slughorn gushed effusively.

“Er... nice to meet you too sir,” Harry said with a polite smile.

“I have been following your career with quite some interest I must say,” said Horace, “and Severus has told me all about you and your wife’s exceptional talents with potions.”

Slughorn turned to Hermione and held out his chubby hand. “And I couldn’t be more pleased to make your acquaintance as well Mrs Potter!”

Blushing furiously, Hermione carefully kept one hand on her skirt and shyly reached out the other to take Slughorn’s and shake it.

“Er... Likewise Professor Slughorn,” Hermione squeaked, blushing and cringing at the sound of her own voice.

“Well, I haven’t been ‘professor’ in many, many years my dear...” Slughorn beamed at Hermione. “But thanks to Albus’s persistence, it appears that I shall be once more. I do so hope that you both elect to take my Alchemy course when the Autumn term begins. It would be simply splendid to teach two such fine young pupils as yourselves... simply marvelous.

“I thought being given the opportunity to teach you Mr Potter was reward enough I must say... I taught your mother... Lily was one of my favourite students - the brightest witch I have ever known - and certainly one of the kindest. And I am delighted to have the opportunity to teach your wife as well. I am told by everyone that Mrs Potter is another in Lily’s mould...”

“And there I thought it was the protections that Hogwarts had to offer which had enticed you Horace,” Dumbledore teased.

“Yes... quite,” chuckled Slughorn. “I still don’t know how you managed to sway Karkaroff to join forces with you, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the Potters here had something to do with it.”

“Indeed...” Dumbledore peered at Harry and Hermione, keenly observing their pink faces, and disheveled appearance.

Harry gulped awkwardly and glanced at Hermione.

“Well Horace,” said Dumbledore sprightly, taking Slughorn’s arm, “I think we have taken up _**quite**_ enough of the Potters’ time for now. You shall have plenty of time to get to know them better after all.”

“Oh... er, indeed. Quite so!” Horace said, looking a bit disappointed, “Bye for now then...”

Dumbledore gave the Potters a wink and Harry nodded gratefully, breathing a sigh of relief.

**~o0o~**

“Slughorn seemed quite nice actually,” Harry said cheerfully, washing Hermione’s back as the steam rose in the hot shower . “I’m not sure if he was happier to meet me or you really...”

Hermione turned around and gave Harry a soapy kiss.

“What was that for?” asked Harry.

“For trying to protect me as usual,” Hermione grinned and kissed him again under the spray of water. “Thanks for at least trying to keep his attention off me Harry. That was mortifying... I thought a breeze might blow up my skirt at any moment.”

“Er... you’re welcome Hermione! But if you keep kissing me in the shower we’ll never make it out in time for lunch,” Harry retorted with a grin.

**~o0o~**

Ginny and Luna raised their eyebrows knowingly and smirked when they spied Harry and Hermione entering the Great Hall at Teatime. Fleur and Dora, who had both been off doing their own thing, picked up on the unspoken signals. Viktor gave Harry a lopsided smile, but Neville looked very puzzled.

“Where’d you go this afternoon Harry,” Neville asked. “The last we saw you, you and Hermione were flying over the Black Lake...”

“They took a little detour to snog for a bit Neville,” said Ginny bluntly, rolling her eyes as if it should have been perfectly obvious. The others tried their hardest not to laugh and embarrass Neville further.

Neville turned pink, smiling bashfully. “Oh... er... sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy...”

“No problem Neville...” said Harry, grinning. 

Before they sat down to Tea, Luna took the Potters aside. “You should join me in the visitor’s lounge and have Tea with me and Jennifer. I think she’s up to chatting a bit today.”

“Are you coming too, Ginny?” asked Hermione.

“You should just go with Luna. I’ll stay here with this lot,” Ginny replied. “I doubt Jennifer will want to talk in front of too many people.”

Hermione nodded in agreement with Ginny’s sensible reasoning. She followed Luna to the visitor’s lounge with Harry at her side. The conversation began casually enough as they all chatted about innocuous things with Jennifer.

“Have you tried butterbeer yet?” asked Hermione. “It’s not as funny tasting as it sounds... It’s a bit like butterscotch, and it only has a teensy bit of alcohol in it.”

“Oh... er... yeah. I had some the other day with Ginny and Luna.” said Jennifer. “It was nice...” Jennifer paused and frowned pensively, as if trying to make a decision. It appeared that she had reached a conclusion when she took a deep breath and began to talk again.

“I... er... I’m sorry about your Uncle, Harry. Luna told me a bit about him and showed me her father’s article...” Jennifer paused again. 

“I... I don’t know how you managed to l...live with that all those years...” she trailed off, her voice quavering, and bit her lip, not quite managing to say what she was thinking. Jennifer couldn’t imagine having to endure the torment of being Ratface’s plaything for years on end. 

Harry couldn’t really think how to respond. 

“Er... yeah... erm... it was pretty horrible actually,” he finally mustered. “I dunno how I managed it either really...” 

Harry cast his eyes down, and caught a sketchbook sitting on the mahogany coffee table. He suddenly realised that he was staring at an amazingly lifelike pencil-drawing. His face darkened when he saw who it was.

“Did... did you draw that?” he asked, more or less rhetorically. It was obvious that she had and Harry immediately regretted asking the question.

Jennifer cringed. She had forgotten that she had left her sketchbook on the table.

“Y...yes,” Jennifer stammered. “I.... I... I c...can’t get his face out of my head.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry...” Harry swallowed and tried his utmost to steady himself. “I didn’t mean to...”

“N...no, it’s alright!” Jennifer murmured. “I... I was g...going to get around to it anyway. I w...was hoping you’d t...tell me a bit about him.”

“Wormtail!” Harry muttered through gritted teeth. “His real name is Peter Pettigrew - he’s the one who sold out my parents to Voldemort. He’s the main reason they’re dead. He was their friend... and he betrayed them. They’d probably still be alive if it weren’t for him...”

“H...he r...raped me...” Jennifer blurted out, sobbing. “...loads of times.”

Despite having surmised as much - based on Harry’s vision - Hermione couldn’t help gasping in horror. Harry’s blood began to boil-over as an inferno raged in his gut and spread to his extremities; he had done his best to forget the image he’d seen through Voldemort’s eyes, but couldn’t any longer.

Jennifer had shocked herself with the statement. This was the first time she had been able to say it out loud - the first time she had told anyone - the first time that she had been able to clearly articulate it in her mind.

Luna curled her arm around Jennifer. Luna had suspected it all along, and she was relieved that Jennifer had finally been able to talk about what had happened to her.

Harry’s head started spinning. He couldn’t tell where Jennifer’s pain ended and his began; he just felt it all swirling together in the firestorm within. The walls began to close in - Harry couldn’t breathe properly - he felt like he was going to explode. 

Unable to speak, Harry wasn’t sure that he could contain himself and not wanting to frighten Jennifer, he leapt up and stalked out of the visitor’s lounge.

“I’m sorry...” Jennifer wailed, “I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have left my sketchbook out...”

“It’s not your fault Jennifer...” Hermione cried out, “Please! You have to understand, Harry’s not angry at you. He’s angry at Wormtail... Luna tell her - Harry’s angry at Wormtail...” Hermione jumped out of her own seat. “Look after Jennifer, Luna... I’ve got to look after Harry - stop him before he hurts himself...” 

Hermione fled the visitor’s lounge and looked around wildly for Harry. Thankfully, Harry hadn’t lost his common sense. He was on the marble staircase, headed for the Seventh Floor, looking for somewhere safe to release his rage. Hermione took off up the stairs after him, but they were already moving.

Hermione ran up the stairs as fast as she could and managed to leap from the staircase to the landing on the next floor. Hermione had to do that for every staircase as she followed Harry. She almost caught up to him.

Too out of breath to yell at Harry to stop, Hermione raced down the corridor and barely managed to catch the door to the Room of Requirement before it clicked shut. Hermione ducked and screamed when debris from an enormous exploding statue of Wormtail rained down upon her.

“Hermione...”

Harry’s voice cut through the ringing in her ears. “Hermione... I’m so sorry - I didn’t see you...”

Hermione blinked and the stunning effects of the blast began to fade, but there was still a haze of smoke and dust.

“Hermione - are you alright? Say something... please...”

Hermione could see the anxiety etched on his face. He was on his knees beside her, cradling her in his arms.

“I... I’ll be fine... Harry,” Hermione managed to gasp. “Really - I’m fine, just a bit dazed. But what about you?”

Relief flooded Harry’s features, but the guilt never left his eyes. Hermione glanced around the steel reinforced room at the concrete statues of Voldemort, Wormtail, and the Minister. Harry had apparently conjured this room specifically to use blasting curses on his enemies.

Hermione threw her arms around him as she clambered to her feet.

“I’m alright... I swear Harry!” she said firmly.

“Okay... okay.... That’s good then,” Harry gasped. “What about Jennifer? I... I didn’t mean to upset her. But I had to get out of there before I lost it completely.”

“I think she’ll be alright Harry. Luna’s with her...” Hermione replied, “And... and to tell you the truth, I think Jennifer needed the release too. I don’t think she’d been able to really face what happened to her until you... until you shared your feelings about Wormtail with her.”

Hermione continued embracing Harry and he felt the last embers of his fury washing away as he caught her familiar minty aroma.

“Crap,” Harry sighed. “I bet Jennifer feels bad about upsetting me now - even though it wasn’t her fault at all.”

Hermione led a much calmer Harry back downstairs to the visitor’s lounge where Luna had finally settled Jennifer. Harry and Jennifer shared wan little smiles. Jennifer brushed her long black hair out of her face, wiping away the remnants of her tears.

“I’m sorry Jennifer...” Harry began.

“No, it’s alright,” Jennifer interjected, “I get it - I know you weren’t cross with me. I... I want to thank you actually. You’re the first person I’ve really been able to talk to about it - and... and this is the first I’ve not f...felt ashamed about what he did to me.”

Harry nodded uncomfortably. He’d often felt ashamed about admitting what Uncle Vernon had done to him - which was more or less why he didn’t like talking about it.

“Er... I... I don’t know if it’ll be the same for you, but... but sometimes those feelings might come back a bit,” Harry admitted ruefully. “But... but eventually you learn to live with it...” 

Harry’s face hardened slightly, and a spark lit in his eyes again.

“And... and I want you to know... If I ever come across Wormtail, I’m going to kill him.”

Jennifer picked up her sketchbook and smiled at Harry and Hermione, feeling her heart catch in her throat.

Jennifer swallowed, “I... I think I need to be by myself for a bit. But thank you again for talking to me - I mean it.”

“Will you come and have dinner at the table with us tonight?” Luna asked hopefully, her eyes full of concern.

“I... I don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet,” said Jennifer. “But I promise, I’ll be alright. I’ll see you later then...” She glanced back at Harry and Hermione, who both looked sorry to see her going, “Thanks again Harry.”

Jennifer hurried out of the visitor’s lounge, letting her hair fall in her face before anyone could see the tears running down her cheeks again. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve finding such nice people who really seemed to care so much for a girl they had barely met.

“Will she really be alright?” Harry asked after Jennifer had left the room, wondering if he’d said the wrong thing. “She looked like she was about to cry again.”

Luna nodded, smiling sweetly, but Harry wasn’t convinced. He was sure that somehow he’d put his foot in it once more. Hermione put her arms around Harry and hugged him tightly.

“It’s okay Harry, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Hermione said. “It’s just going to take Jennifer some time to get used to having friends again.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. That, he understood. But he was still feeling badly about what had happened in the Room of Requirement.

“Are you sure **_you’re_** alright?” Harry peered into Hermione’s eyes, looking for signs of pain or concussion.

“I’m _**fine**_ Harry - really...” Hermione pulled Harry closer and kissed him passionately to prove it. “You need some cheering up - I think this evening after dinner we should have some fun in the Room of Requirement... if you’re up to it after our fun in the forest today...”

“Er... really?” Harry looked surprised. “You sure about that? I mean, you’re not too upset?”

Hermione shook her head and smiled. 

That evening after dinner, Harry and Hermione returned to the Room of Requirement, both of them grinning. And this time they were prepared with towels, clean nightclothes, and slippers to put on after, not having to worry about being caught out by anyone.

**~o0o~**

“Blimey, wha’ the ruddy hell was tha’ ? There it is again. Wha’s goin’ on then?” gasped Hagrid when the castle shook and the lamps flickered for the third time.

Albus Dumbledore swirled the contents of his brandy snifter and chuckled, his eyes twinkling. He noted with satisfaction, that the magical lanterns and candles which lit the castle only flickered, and didn’t go out completely, settling at a brighter wattage after each tremor.

“Oh, nothing to worry yourself about Rubeus,” Dumbledore replied. “Hogwarts is merely adjusting to some ongoing upgrades...”

Minerva McGonagall nearly snorted her cocktail out of her nose, and had a coughing fit. Poppy Pomfrey rolled her eyes.

“There, there dear...” said Poppy, patting Minerva on the back.

Filius Flitwick exchanged a bewildered look with Pomona Sprout, who just shrugged in response.

Severus Snape might have been puzzled too, but he was spending the night at Narcissa Black’s manor.


	44. Alchemy & Ascendance: the Luminous Soul

“Just a moment Albus,” said Minerva McGonagall in a deceptively quiet voice, her eyes narrowing as the others departed from the staff-room to ready themselves for bed. Only Poppy Pomfrey remained, uncharacteristically smirking. 

“I want the truth now!” McGonagall snapped. “And mind you, I have a reasonably good idea that the Potters have something to do with these... _‘ongoing upgrades’_ as you call them. And Poppy has some ideas of her own on the matter at hand - some of them rather... _salacious_ in nature.”

“Ah, Minerva I can get nothing past you...” Dumbledore smiled serenely; only his merrily twinkling eyes betrayed his amusement. “And I daresay that Poppy is equally perceptive. 

“Very well then - I only ask that what I reveal must not go beyond this room. As of this moment, I can only be certain that Nymphadora Tonks is aware of the true purpose for the Potters’ presence here this summer - though no doubt the Potters may make it known to Sirius and Remus, if they have not already done so.

“I presumed that others - particularly yourself and Poppy - might work it out, and I don’t doubt that Filius shall eventually work it out as well. I had indeed factored such an eventuality into my deliberations. But I wish to keep this knowledge in as small a circle as possible. It would not do at all for what I am about to tell you to escape these walls. 

“And it is not that I do not trust the other members of the staff or the Order with the fact of the Potters’ general involvement - it is that I trust you both the _most_ with the specifics of the matter, and to look after the best interests of the Potters in regards to preserving a modicum of dignity and privacy for the young couple. 

“After all, very few can honestly say that they care for their intimacies to be held up for public display. The Potters have had far more than their fair share of public scrutiny as it is...”

“Of course Albus...” Pomfrey began.

McGonagall simultaneously cut across her, and sounding very exasperated, said, “Yes... yes! Quite so Albus... but _**please,**_ get to the point - must you _**always**_ go all around the houses?”

Dumbledore couldn’t help chuckling at McGonagall’s consternation. He couldn’t really blame her for being frustrated with his tendency to be rather long-winded.

“Quite... my apologies Minerva. I just wish to be absolutely clear and avoid any chance of misapprehension. If I am to understand you correctly, Poppy appears to have discerned that an element of ‘sex-magic’ is at the centre of things. Indeed it would seem that an accidental discharge of such magic has been occurring with regular frequency. 

“I know that you are both well aware of the theory behind such, and it would appear that you have both surmised that the Potters are matched with a singular rarity - and you have no doubt surmised that the high quality - the Purity and the Intensity of the Potters’ Emotional Content is what is fueling such potent outbursts. These, I can confirm to be the case.

“What you may not know is how that release of energy is being transferred throughout the very foundation of Hogwarts itself, rather than being confined to the immediate area surrounding the Potters. As it so happens, there is a room in Hogwarts - an unplottable room to be precise - which encapsulates an interdimensional singularity that conjures up a room or environment mirroring the requirements of the individual in need at that given moment...”

“The Room of Requirement,” Madam Pomfrey gasped. “So it’s not just rumours?”

Professor McGonagall was floored. Her eyes widened in shock, then narrowed with skepticism. 

“Are you certain of this Albus? By most accounts the Room of Requirement is a myth...” 

“Indeed,” Dumbledore replied, “I had long thought so myself. But some years back I had a sudden need for a lavatory and one appeared, though I could never find it again... that was when I first began to suspect the truth of its existence. 

“My suspicions were only very recently confirmed when the Potters’ discovered it quite by accident, and in the process uncovered one of Voldemort’s horcruxes. Apparently Voldemort also discovered the room during his time here at Hogwarts as Tom Riddle...”

“But the horcrux... how... when...?” McGonagall began.

“When Riddle once came to visit me, seeking a professorship... if my conjecture is correct,” the headmaster replied, anticipating his deputy’s query. “In any case, since the Potters’ discovery, they have been making use of it for any number of purposes - some of them for training with Alastor and Nymphadora - and some of them... _recreational_...”

Pomfrey smiled in amusement and McGonagall rolled her eyes and snorted at the characterisation of the Potters’ activities as “recreational.” Dumbledore continued as if he hadn’t noticed.

“...In conclusion, it is during those moments of disport in the Room of Requirement that the accidental outbursts were transferred throughout the castle, hence the mild quakes.” 

Dumbledore folded his hands and tapped his thumbs together, raising his bushy white eyebrows to indicate that he was finished. McGonagall pursed her lips and frowned pensively before nodding and responding.

“Yes... I see Albus. Well... I must say that I quite agree with your assessment of the situation. The less who know about this, the better. You have my word that none shall hear of this from my lips...”

“Nor mine,” agreed Pomfrey. “We shall both do our utmost to protect the Potters’ privacy.”

“That is all I can ask,” said Dumbledore, looking satisfied. “Thank you both for your forbearance.”

As Dumbledore watched the two sharp-witted witches departing from the staff-room, he sighed. No doubt they would eventually make the connection between the incidents in the castle and the destruction of the Dementors, but that was a secret for discussion best left for another day. He eyed his empty brandy snifter on the coffee table and decided that perhaps it needed refilling before he retired for the night.

**~o0o~**

Fleur dunked her croissant in her coffee and daintily took a bite, then forked a slice of strawberry. She glanced at her girlfriend Dora who was digging into her eggs, sausage, and bacon as hungrily as Harry Potter. Sitting next to her husband, Hermione was splitting the difference, buttering her croissant - so very British - and gingerly dipping it into the runny yolk of her egg.

Dora looked up and blushed when she caught Fleur beaming at her. 

“Er... did I spill somethin’...?” asked Dora. Picking up a napkin, she dabbed at her face and began looking for a stain on her t-shirt, seeing nothing but the picture of _Nina Hagen_ emblazoned on the front.

“Non, Chérie...” Fleur replied, “It ees just nice to see you so hungry... so full of joie de vivre...”

Dora grinned shyly, her blush deepening. “I still dunno what you see in me... but I’m really glad you do!”

“You are so humble... like ‘Arry,” said Fleur, batting her long silvery lashes. Hermione giggled and gave Harry a nudge. Harry turned a bit pink and focused intently on his plate.

“Any girl or boy would be _lucky_ to ‘ave someone like you, Dora,” Fleur continued. “...someone who ees kind and brave and beautiful - someone strong and exciting... and someone who sees me as person, instead of prize to be won...”

“At Beauxbatons, I ‘ad some girlfriends - we play togezzer, but relationship is not so deep. And the boys, they all theenk they are... how do you say in English? ... Oh, oui... they theenk zey are God’s Gift to women - that they will be ze one to make a Veela scream with pleasure, and they only see my physique. I do not like so much...

“I ‘oped I would find someone nice at ‘Ogwarts, but ees mostly ze same... and all of the good ones already taken... until I find you!” Fleur sighed dreamily.

The loving look in Fleur’s crystal blue gaze curled Dora’s toes in embarrassment, and her fuchsia coloured hair fluoresced brightly.

**~o0o~**

Harry and Hermione eyed the Potions professor warily when he approached them following breakfast. Snape peered at them both with dark, glittering eyes, his features nearly inscrutable. But Harry almost thought he detected a hint of irony in Snape’s countenance and an upward twitch at the corners of his mouth.

“I hope you two weren’t expecting to waste your _entire_ summer on... frivolities!” Snape raised his eyebrows, waiting for a reaction.

“Er... no, of course not Professor...” said Harry, well aware that Snape had plans for the summer. Hermione shook her head.

“Good, because your Advanced Potions lessons will begin tomorrow morning, nine am sharp... don’t be late!” And with that Snape spun around in a swirl of robes and stalked off.

Hermione grinned at Harry. “Did you see that Harry? Professor Snape almost looked happy...”

“You noticed that too?” said Harry. “I suppose I wasn’t just imagining things then...” 

“Indeed not,” said a voice right behind the Potters, catching them unawares. Harry and Hermione turned around to see Dumbledore twinkling at them. 

“I daresay that is the cheeriest I have seen Professor Snape in quite some years myself,” Dumbledore continued. “However, that is not the reason for my visit. If you would both be so kind as to join me in my office after lunch, I am now prepared to begin our examination of the details regarding Voldemort’s personal history which I have collected...”

**~o0o~**

Ginny and Luna both felt a bit bad to be leaving Jennifer on her own when they met the others outside the Room of Requirement, but they were excited at the idea of continuing to train and learning new spells. Harry had promised them both that they would be introduced to Patronus Charms today.

Neville was more than a bit nervous, as this was the first time he would be joining everyone. He gaped when he peered around the Room of Requirement, taking in everything. His eyes came to rest on the wall full of muggle weapons, swords and staffs and strange looking things of all kinds.

“I’ve never seen this room before. It’s amazing...” he gasped. “So this is where you learned how to fight then, Harry.”

“Luna and I did a bit too,” Ginny grinned. “Before the last task, we joined in with Parvati and Lavender as well...”

“Don’t forget Daphne,” Luna added. “Dora started training us all while Harry and the Champions practiced together.”

“This isn’t even the half of it Neville,” said Harry, pleased to see Neville’s eagerness. “It can be any sort of room you want, or even an outside location. We turned it into a beach the day before the final task. Anyway, let’s get started then... Hermione?”

“I’m right here Harry...” 

Harry looked around and grinned when he spotted Hermione by the wall full of bookshelves.

“I’ve found some more really interesting books Harry... You’ll _**really**_ like this one!” she squeaked, bouncing happily as she held one up for him to see.

Harry peered at the cover. “Hmmm... _The Wizarding Edition of the Tai Chi Classics_ , eh?...”

“It’s got some beautiful Chinese symbols Harry,” Hermione beamed. “You’ll love drawing and painting them... I know you will!”

“Yeah... these look really cool...” Harry’s eyes gleamed as he quickly flicked through the pages. “Later then,” he said passing the book back to Hermione. “We should get started now...” 

“Er... Right,” Harry began when everyone was paying attention to him, then he glanced at Neville, “...erm... I know you haven’t had a chance to practice more basic stuff with us yet Neville, but I thought it would be cool for everyone to learn the Patronus Charm - they’re for warding off Dementors and Levitholds... and maybe some other Dark creatures too...” 

Harry almost mentioned the Inferi specifically, but he wasn’t entirely sure that he ought to, as it had been quite by chance that his and Hermione’s Patronuses had had any effect at all on them. And Moody hadn’t been exactly certain when he’d mentioned the possibility of Patronuses being an effective shield against Inferi.

“Anyway,” Harry continued, taking a deep breath, “What you need to do is really focus on your happiest memories or feelings when you say the incantation. The only thing is, I had a Boggart pretending to be a Dementor to practice on. We don’t have one of those, so we’ll just have to do without I suppose...”

“That’s alright Harry,” said Dora, “You don’t really need a Dementor to learn how to perform the charm. It’s helpful for those with particularly dreadful life-experiences which might make them more susceptible to Dementor attacks... It helps people get used to overcomin’ the effects long enough to perform the charm - but it’s not actually necessary to have a Dementor t’learn ‘ow to do it.”

Harry and Hermione both glanced at Luna, who had watched her mother die in a terrible experimental-spell accident.

“I’ll manage...” Luna said quietly, a flicker of grief crossing her otherwise serene features. “I’m sure that once I’ve learned the spell, I can make it work in a pinch. Goodness knows, I’ve got lots of happy memories now.” Luna beamed at Ginny and the rest of her friends.

Harry nodded at Luna, then looked at Viktor and Fleur. “Alright then... er... So, I was wondering if either of you had ever done a Patronus before...?”

“Non,” Fleur replied with a shake of her head. “Eet is not part of ze curriculum at Beauxbatons either.”

“And Durmstrang, they vould never teach such a thing there,” said Viktor. “This vould be first time for me also.”

“Okay... erm... er...” Harry glanced at Dora, not sure where to start, having never been in the role of a teacher before.

“Why don’t you do a demonstration first Harry,” said Dora. “You and Hermione show everyone how it’s done, then everyone’ll at least ‘ave an idea of how it’s done.”

“Alright!” said Harry. “You ready Hermione?” 

Hermione nodded, and on the count of three they both recited the incantation. Blazing luminous pulses flooded the Room of Requirement and everyone covered their faces, squinting to see what was happening. Between each throb of light, they could only just barely make out the radiant stag and doe pacing the chamber. 

“Merlin, those were the blindingest Patronuses I’ve ever seen!” Dora gasped as she rubbed at her eyes, still seeing spots. Now that she had seen the etheric entities up close, Dora didn’t know how she could have mistaken them for the ghosts of Harry and Hermione at the conclusion of the Third Task.

“They’re beautiful,” said Ginny, gaping in awe once she could see properly again. The others nodded and murmured in agreement. 

“Well, you lot,” said Dora, “you’ve seen ‘ow Harry and Hermione do it. Why don’t you all give it a go then!?”

“Per’aps we might see yours too, Dora,” suggested Fleur.

“Oh... er... Yeah, I suppose that’s a good idea Fleur,” Dora agreed. “It won’t be anywhere near as bright as Harry and Hermione’s, but that’s probably a good thing for demonstration purposes. Here goes then... Expecto Patronum!”

Dora’s jaw dropped in astonishment when the Corporeal Patronus accompanying her shield of light burst from her wand and took flight. She had no idea that they could change like that. Instead of an ungainly lolloping Jackrabbit, a glowing spectral Golden Eagle soared around the chamber.

The Potters and Dora coached the others as they began practicing. Everyone was doing quite well for a first lesson, and even Neville managed to produce a silvery mist after a few tries. They practiced for several hours and surprisingly, by the end of the morning after numerous castings, Luna managed to be the first to produce a Corporeal Patronus. It looked a lot like a Scottish Wildcat. Ginny blushed furiously when Luna whispered in her ear and told her what she’d been thinking about.

“Oh... Well done Luna!” Hermione gasped, clapping her hands. She peered closer at the hearty looking feline, which was nearly twice the size of an average housecat. “Harry, is it just me, or does that cat look like it’s grinning?”

Harry and Dora both glanced at Luna who was wearing her favourite sky blue dress and white pinafore.

“I’d say we should be happy that it’s not a Hookah Smoking Caterpillar,” Dora giggled.

“I’m glad it’s not the March Hare,” chortled Harry. “Excellent Luna! I love it...”

Ginny, Neville, Viktor, and Fleur all looked a bit puzzled, not getting the joke.

“I agree Harry,” Dora smiled. “It's much nicer than the March Hare.”

“Well I think it’s adorable Luna,” Hermione beamed, giving Luna a hug. “And much prettier than the picture-books. I had no idea you’d read _Alice’s Adventure’s in Wonderland._ ”

“Thanks Hermione!” Luna squirmed and blushed. “It’s one of my favourite books - well that and _Through the Looking Glass_ of course. Mum always used to read them to me. Daddy says that Alice is based on my mum’s Great Great Great Grandma Alice... I don’t know if that’s really true, but I like to think so.”

“Well, I must admit, the pictures in the books do look a lot like you,” said Hermione. “Do you have any pictures of your Alice?”

“There’s some at home, and they do look a bit like me and the Alice in the book,” said Luna.

“That’s excellent!” exclaimed Harry. “I bet it’s true Luna.” Looking at the clock, Harry saw it was nearly time for lunch; he smiled proudly at everyone.

“Right, that’s probably enough for today... That was brilliant - really! Let’s do this again tomorrow. I bet the rest of you will be doing Corporeal Patronuses in no time.”

**~o0o~**

Lunch had finished. In Dumbledore’s office, Hermione quivered excitedly in the poofy chintz armchair next to Harry’s while they waited patiently for the headmaster to begin. Dumbledore peered at the eager pair with twinkling eyes, hoping that today’s discussion wouldn’t put a damper on their spirits.

“Well, here we are at last,” began Dumbledore. “As I mentioned, I have come across some information to impart regarding Voldemort, whom we also know as Tom Riddle. Some of this information I already possessed, but much of it I did not, until after we not so long ago discovered the identities and childhood homes of Tom Riddle’s parents - and most recently after I acquired the final piece of the puzzle from an old and dear friend.

“Today, we will be going on a journey... a journey into the past - into memory - so that we may learn more about Tom Riddle’s nature, and also to discover the extent of Riddle’s horcrux production.” 

Dumbledore gestured towards a shallow stone basin sitting on his desk. “Do either of you know what this is?”

The Potters both peered at the basin and shook their heads, neither of them recognising the runes carved along the edge of the rim. 

“What is that Professor?” Hermione asked as Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“This... is a Pensieve. It is a means by which we can examine memories...” Dumbledore began.

“Like the ones which Madam Bones collected from us after we stopped Malfoy from kidnapping Astoria,” said Harry. “I wondered how that worked.”

“And like the ones you had Auror Brixton collect from Bob Ogden...” Hermione gasped. 

“Quite so Harry, Mrs Potter,” said Dumbledore. “Indeed Mr Ogden’s will be the first which we examine today.” Dumbledore held up a crystal vial which appeared to contain a swirling silvery cloud. “Once the contents of a memory vial are poured into a pensieve, they can be brought to the surface, or entered at will.

“We shall be examining a number of memories today... I have perused them already, but your input is imperative before I draw any conclusions. As well as Mr Ogden’s memory, we shall examine two of my own, one belonging to a House-Elf, and finally, one of Horace Slughorn’s. I had hoped to obtain Morfin Gaunt’s before he died, but alas, I was too late...” 

Dumbledore paused, and regarded Harry and Hermione earnestly before continuing.

“I have come to value the judgments of you both, on matters such as these, as highly as I once valued my own,” the Headmaster said quietly. “I believe, that with the information we now have available, it is quite possible that we may finish Tom Riddle in short order, once and for all, when we next meet in battle.

“I cannot be certain of course. However, if you find that you both concur with my conclusions, then I believe that we can be assured of ending Riddle’s second reign of terror before it proceeds much further... and focus on She-who-may-present-an-even-graver-threat-than-He...”

“The Minister...” Harry scowled.

“Quite so!” Dumbledore nodded. “Thus, I feel that I must set some boundaries... I will likely yet require the assistance of you both to eliminate the remaining horcruxes - however - if it is avoidable, I do not wish for either of you to engage directly in combat with Voldemort or his minions unless it is an absolute necessity for you to protect yourselves...”

“Wait... Why not? Isn’t that what we’ve been training to do...” Harry interjected.

“Because, as I mentioned previously after the Yule Ball, you are far more valuable alive than dead...” the Headmaster softly intoned with a wistful look in his clear blue eyes. “You are both young, and have your whole lives ahead of you. You have a true Gift to offer the entire world - wizards, magical beings, and muggles alike.

“The example you both set - you bring inspiration to all those who would see a future in which all may share equally without prejudice or oppression. It is very important that you both survive, as a demonstration of the power of Solidarity - of which Love is the ultimate expression...

“It is quite possible, as in all wars for Defence and for Justice, that the people we love may yet die and suffer... But nobody should face that alone, and only together and undivided can we stand strong against the Evil which strives to take root.

“Voldemort - Tom Riddle - is a remnant of a time gone by, a task which is one for myself and the Order to complete, regardless of Voldemort’s obsession with the Prophecy. The Minister, and those like her, are the true threat to our future.

“But the Minister... she operates in the shadows and in the mind... she seduces with ideas and she murders with deception and deflection. She is a master of manipulation, and she cloaks Evil behind a mask of Order and a false sense of Justice.

“This - given your recent experience at the Ministry - you both know to be true. Publicly exposing the Minister and her Death Eaters will be a top priority for the Order of the Phoenix. We cannot openly fight her while she appears to be a legitimate head of government. But should we not succeed in the short term, it will likely be up to those such as yourselves to fight for the long term, because the Future belongs to you. 

“Beyond the simple fact of your Right to enjoy Life in its fullness, this is why I wish you to avoid directly facing Voldemort if at all possible. I hope you can understand this...”

“Yes sir,” Harry replied, his jaw tightening. “I do... But I can’t make any promises that we won’t fight Voldemort and his forces too. I’m not just going to sit around and let people die while I’m hiding.”

“I agree with Harry, Professor Dumbledore,” said Hermione. “We’re both prepared to do whatever we have to do to defeat the Minister _**and**_ Voldemort.” 

“Well said Harry, Mrs Potter!” Dumbledore nodded proudly, seeing the burning resolve in the Potters’ eyes.

“I really can expect no less of you - either one of you,” Dumbledore sighed, feeling humbled. “Frankly, I just wanted to make absolutely clear that the clash with Voldemort is not your battle to fight alone - it is a fight which I wish I could have completed by myself years ago without putting you in harm’s way Harry...”

“It’s alright sir. You’ve already apologised to me once... and... and nobody’s perfect!” Harry interjected with a sheepish grin.

“Indeed...” Dumbledore smiled wryly. “In any case, my goal is to complete the task I had once set for myself alone, and then for you - but this time with the aid of my friends and colleagues... and my students, if they deem themselves ready... With that said, I believe it is now time to begin our journey to the past.”

Dumbledore tipped the silvery mist-like substance from the crystal vial into the pensieve where it swirled in a state neither liquid nor gas, but both at once. At his direction, the Potters leaned forward, drawing closer, each in turn plunging their faces into the shimmering surface of the memory. 

They both fell, tumbling through dark billowing clouds of dense fog, emerging into glaring sunlight. When their eyes adjusted, Dumbledore was beside them and they were all standing in a country lane in surroundings which they recognised immediately...

**~o0o~**

The viewing of Bob Ogden’s memory was very disturbing to say the least, and Hermione was in tears when they all returned to Dumbledore’s office.

“That was so sad,” said Hermione, her features more angry than anything. “Poor Merope... Her father and brother were _awful!_ The way they treated her was utterly revolting...”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore nodded sorrowfully. “That was quite disconcerting.”

“I still can’t work out how Merope and Tom Riddle Sr ever got married...” Harry said with a puzzled expression.

“Maybe a love potion?” Hermione sniffed as she wiped away her tears. “Though I don’t know what she even saw in that pompous creep. Looks aren’t everything.”

“Quite...” the headmaster agreed. “That was my conclusion as well.”

“That doesn’t seem right.” Harry shook his head. “Look, I feel sorry for Merope too. And I agree Tom Riddle Sr seemed like a pompous git. But still, seducing someone with a love potion - if that’s what she did - that’s a bit like rape isn’t it?”

“You’re absolutely right Harry,” said Hermione with a sigh. “But I doubt she saw it that way. In fairy tales and stories, love potions are usually portrayed as something romantic. But really - they’re a bit like ‘date-rape’ drugs in the muggle world... I know they’re banned at Hogwarts, but they ought to be flat out illegal.”

“Yes... I must concur,” Dumbledore nodded again, stroking his long silvery beard pensively. “It is a tragic story all the way around. I too think that poor Merope Gaunt also believed a love potion to be a romantic solution to her desperate quandary - not intending to act with evil in her heart.

“But indeed, with clear eyes, one must see the surreptitious use of a love potion for what it is - a removal of consent,” Dumbledore went on, “Love cannot exist without consent. It is my contention that Merope Gaunt eventually came to realise the truth of that, and that - feeling guilty - Merope discontinued the use of the potion when she became pregnant. Shortly after, Tom Riddle Sr must have departed...”

“...Leaving her all alone with a baby. She must have been heartbroken,” Harry concluded sadly.

“Indeed Harry, which brings us to where I found Tom Marvolo Riddle,” Dumbledore held up the next memory vial, “in a Muggle Orphanage in which his mother died giving birth to him...”

**~o0o~**

Harry chewed his lip pensively. He might almost have felt sorry for the young Tom Riddle Junior, having grown up parentless and friendless like himself. But he couldn’t really bring himself to after what he’d just seen.

“It seems so obvious to me... Did you know, sir?”

“That I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard since Grindelwald?” Dumbledore sighed. “No - I did not, Harry. However, I was wary - It was quite... _‘obvious,’_ as you put it, that he was a very disturbed boy. I was indeed concerned, both for his own sake, and the sake of others, determined to keep an eye on him when he arrived at Hogwarts.” 

“He reminds me of Damien...” said Hermione, shivering violently. Harry hated it when Hermione was frightened. He beckoned her, and Hermione gladly took a seat in Harry’s lap for a comforting embrace.

“Damien?” Harry asked gently, when Hermione’s trembling began to subside. He was bewildered, as Hermione had never mentioned him before. And as far as he knew, there was nobody named Damien at Hogwarts.

The headmaster was equally mystified. He was as curious to hear Hermione Potter’s reaction to the younger Riddle as Harry was. Dumbledore had come to prize the remarkable perceptions of the two students before him, so he kept silent as the Potters ruminated upon what they had just witnessed.

“Damien... he’s a character from a film called _The Omen_ , ” Hermione explained, feeling much better in Harry’s arms. “It’s a really scary movie! Mum was furious with Dad for renting it because I had nightmares for weeks after watching it... I was only about eight at the time.

“Anyway, Damien was a little boy born into a wealthy family, but it turned out that he was really Satan’s son. He was more or less born evil. But I... I never _really_ believed that anyone could just be born evil until I saw the look in Tom’s eyes...” Hermione continued. “They were so cold... like a frozen lake...”

“That’s what Myrtle said too,” said Harry, nodding. “She was absolutely right...”

“But even though Tom seemed so cold,” Hermione went on, “his vindictiveness - I could almost feel it radiating from him like heat... But there really wasn’t any good reason for him to be like that.”

“Yeah... it’s not like anyone mistreated him at the orphanage,” Harry agreed. “Nobody beat Tom, or harassed him - and even though it looked like a pretty dreary place to grow up, all the children were at least looked after and fed properly... He didn’t really have a good reason to turn out any more rotten than any of the other poor kids who grew up there without parents who loved them...”

“...except for his bad genetic heritage perhaps,” Hermione snorted. “The Gaunts appeared severely inbred, and despite being handsome, his father didn’t strike me as a very pleasant sort either - though that was probably due to being raised like a pampered prince.”

“Maybe being conceived under the influence of a love potion affected Tom’s mind too?” Harry wondered.

“Possibly...” Hermione frowned thoughtfully. “But whatever the reason, Tom Riddle Jr clearly has some sort of psychiatric disorder with a biological basis. I think you’re absolutely right Harry - it can’t really be attributed to his upbringing. Riddle was genetically predisposed to be a nasty person...”

“...And he was quite the ‘collector’ apparently,” Harry said. “He was a real thief - seemed to have a thing for trophies!”

Hearing the Potters’ cogent analysis and perceptions of Tom’s upbringing in relation to Harry’s own childhood, the headmaster breathed a sigh of relief. He had been feeling guilty for quite some time.

Ever since Dumbledore had learned how wrong he had been to leave Harry with the Dursleys without properly monitoring the situation, Dumbledore had wondered if sending Riddle back to the Orphanage every summer had been as damaging to Tom as Harry’s home life potentially could have been to Harry. 

Harry had been treated far worse, endured greater privation and abuse than Tom ever had, yet he had turned out quite well despite all. Harry’s strength of character had led him to grow into a fine young man.

Dumbledore could at last put aside his feelings of guilt for not pressing Headmaster Dippet to allow Riddle to stay at Hogwarts during the summers. Riddle’s issues were his own - not of Dumbledore’s making. 

And considering that Riddle had by all outward appearance been on his best behaviour while a student at Hogwarts, Dumbledore had never been able to confirm his own suspicions about Tom’s inner-nature with any sort of certainty. 

As a boy and young man, it was clear that Tom’s greater self-control had given him a high degree of natural ability as an Occlumens which had blocked Dumbledore’s Legilimency. As an adult, Tom had gradually lost much of that self-control - which Dumbledore could possibly exploit should he meet him again in person.

“Thank you both very much,” the headmaster said gratefully. “Believe it or not, I have learned far more from listening to your analysis of this particular memory, than I have from my own. I have a much clearer view of what drives Tom Riddle now....”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled in amusement at the stunned expressions on his students’ faces. 

“Well then, perhaps we can pick this up again after a Tea break. I expect we should be able to wrap this up by dinnertime.”

**~o0o~**

Needing to clear their heads, the Potters joined Ginny, Luna, and Jennifer outside for Tea where it was bright and sunny. Jennifer listened intently as Harry and Hermione chatted about what they had learned with the headmaster.

“Wait... So Voldemort is actually ‘halfblood’ then?” Jennifer was confused. “I thought he hated non-magicals like me and muggleborn wizards. I don’t get it. Why would he be a pureblood fanatic if he had some muggle blood?”

“I don’t understand either,” said Ginny. “Mum and Dad never told us Voldemort was halfblood...”

“I doubt they knew. It was more or less a secret,” Hermione responded. “Tom Riddle didn’t really want anyone to know that he had some muggle blood - that’s one of the reasons he changed his name to Voldemort...”

“Is it because he was a Slytherin?” asked Jennifer.

“I don’t think it can just be that.” Luna frowned pensively. “Our friend Daphne was a Slytherin and she’s pureblood, but she doesn’t act all superior. Anyway a lot of people in other Houses think being pureblood is better too - even though they’re not so bad and try not to be mean about it. But I admit, I don’t understand why a lot of halfbloods think being pureblood is better too...”

“They do?” Jennifer’s perplex deepened. “It’s not just Voldemort then?”

“Yes,” replied Luna with a nod. “A lot of Slytherins _must_ be halfblood, but they’ll never admit it. Some in Ravenclaw are a bit like that too...”

“Luna’s right,” said Harry, his jaw tightening. “A lot of purebloods and halfbloods in the other Houses - even Hufflepuff - say they’re not prejudiced, but you wouldn’t know it sometimes from the little things they let slip... a lot of halfbloods are actually ashamed of their muggle sides and wish they were purebloods...”

“And even in Gryffindor, people find excuses to think that they’re better than other people,” Hermione huffed. “Look at McLaggen. He thinks his family’s blood-status and wealth gives him a right to be a pompous arse and act like a disgusting lout... And Peter Pettigrew was a Gryffindor too...”

“And then there’s Percy...” said Harry quietly. 

“My brother,” said Ginny, flushing with embarrassment. 

“He’s the one who signed the summons demanding that Hermione be put on trial too...” Harry continued. “He’s Minister Umbridge’s deputy and we all know what _**she**_ thinks about muggleborns and ‘halfbreeds’...”

**~o0o~**

Dumbledore and the Potters had finished viewing the memories and out of the corner of his eye, Dumbledore could see the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black shaking his head and frowning at him. Albus chuckled softly. Clearly Phineas disapproved of allowing students to reach their own conclusions and influence the headmaster’s decisions. At least Phineas wasn’t rudely interrupting the proceeding.

“I can’t believe that Voldemort thought he could actually get a job here...” said Hermione, a little shiver running up her spine.

“Yeah... That’s a creepy thought!” said Harry, making a face. “Urgh... Professor Voldemort! Blegh!”

“A hair-raising prospect indeed!” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. Hermione giggled.

“Right! So, we know that the horcrux in me was a mistake,” Harry mused. “Tom Riddle didn’t mean to create that one. And he told Slughorn that he thought seven was the most magically powerful number - so that means there were probably seven horcruxes plus the one in me if he thought that seven was the strongest number doesn’t it?”

“I think six, Harry,” Hermione suggested, “If Riddle considered seven soul fragments as being the most powerful number, he would have included himself. So it seems most likely that he only made six total...”

“That makes sense,” Harry agreed. “And I’d know if he’d made any more of them since he’s been back...”

“Right, so we’ve already destroyed the diary and the locket...” said Hermione.

“...and the diadem. And we got the ring as well,” Harry continued excitedly. “So that means we should only have two left to kill, and one of those _**has**_ to be Helga Hufflepuff’s cup. Tom was obviously after it according to Hokey the House-Elf’s memory...”

“But I haven’t a clue what the other one might be Harry,” Hermione sighed, clearly distressed that her brain didn’t have all the answers. “And we have no idea where the last two might be... Not to mention that we still have to work out how to get rid of the piece of Voldemort’s soul still in you...”

“At least there’s only two horcruxes left and we know what one of them is. That’s loads easier than trying to find six...” said Harry.

“Professor Dumbledore’s right - the Order of the Phoenix can probably kill Tom Riddle when he tries to have another go at me, and then we can find the last two horcruxes afterwards if we have to and do in the one in me - finish Voldemort off for good. But in the meantime, we can all be thinking of places he might have hidden the last two and keep looking...”

“Indeed we can Harry,” the Headmaster interjected cheerfully, “Splendid! Well done, both of you! I have been thinking much the same thing. Now I am certain that I - that we - are correct.

“I have also given some further thought to Tom Riddle’s next moves as ‘Lord Voldemort’ since our discussion this morning,” Dumbledore continued. “Thanks to you both, I have a clearer idea of what he will likely do next. Especially given your perception that Voldemort is leaning towards capturing Hogwarts, Harry.

“I believe that he may stage some more attacks to distract the Minister and to terrify the public, and that he will most likely make a play to take Hogwarts before the end of summer, believing it largely unoccupied. As you gleaned, I think he would like to make it his base of operations for an attack on the Ministry itself...”

“That’s when we’ll get him then!” Harry said decisively, his green eyes glittering, his features hardening.

“Yes indeed!” Dumbledore nodded as he stroked his silvery beard. “Now, I know that you will want to train your abilities to their maximum potential Harry, but remember... your greatest asset is your ability to Love!” the Headmaster concluded with a wink.

The two students and the Headmaster peered at each other, but none of them could maintain a straight face after that last pronouncement.

The portrait of Phineas Nigellus rolled his eyes and snorted in derision. Fawkes ruffled his feathers and uttered a soft musical cry which sounded suspiciously like a chortle of laughter.

**~o0o~**

Wide awake, Harry finished cleaning his teeth and making himself ready for bed, his mind and body abuzz in anticipation of the looming future. Sleep seemed a distant possibility as trepidation and exhilaration waged a battle for his heart and soul. Fortunately, when he entered the bedroom, it appeared that he was in good company.

“Why are you still in your pyjamas?” Hermione asked Harry with a mock glare, “We've got loads of training to do...”

Hedwig and Crookshanks darted out of the room to give their humans some privacy.

**~o0o~**

Another week went by. Advanced Potions with Snape was proceeding nicely, and practice in the Room of Requirement was going well. At the thought that Voldemort might actually attempt to storm the castle, Neville was putting all of his effort to catch up with the others. He was almost certain that the Lestranges would be among the attackers.

One morning, Jennifer finally managed to pluck up the nerve to eat breakfast with the others in the Great Hall. It wasn’t so bad as long as she kept her eyes on the girls and Harry. 

Harry gnawed on a piece of bacon, deep in thought as he watched Jennifer picking at her scrambled eggs. Finally he decided to broach the subject. 

“Er... Would you like to watch us do some spells Jennifer?” Harry asked. “We’re going to practice some after breakfast. I... er... I think you might like the ones we’re going to practice today. They’re big spells, but they’re very nice ones...”

Jennifer’s eyes widened; she swallowed nervously. The only magic she had seen since her first day out of the hospital ward was Wizard Chess, Exploding Snap, and people flying on brooms. And Jennifer had overheard some of the professors arguing over the legality of her being around magic at all.

“I think that’s a lovely idea,” said Luna.

“But you don’t have to if you don’t want to...” Hermione said quickly.

“Actually...” Jennifer began tentatively, “I... I think I’d like to... to see some nice magic. All I’ve seen so far was mostly done to keep me prisoner and to... to... to hurt me.” 

“...But I don’t want to get anyone in trouble,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry about that,” said Harry assertively. He glanced up at Dumbledore who was watching them with a twinkle in his eye. Harry relaxed and grinned. “I know Dumbledore won’t mind. He wouldn’t have let you stay here if he was too fussed about that sort of thing.”

**~o0o~**

Jennifer was a bit frightened at first. But as the wizards practiced their Patronuses, Jennifer could almost sense the joy which Harry had told her fueled them. She felt a thrill of excitement when Ginny finally produced a Corporeal Patronus.

“That’s Brilliant Ginny!” Harry grinned at the large spectral feline, “That’s a tiger isn’t it Hermione?”

“I think so Harry... It looks like the right shape for a tiger, and there appear to varied gradations of light which look like stripes,” Hermione responded. “Well done Ginny!” 

Ginny blushed when Luna beamed at her and pounced, giving Ginny a kiss. “It’s gorgeous Ginny! Now we have matching Patronuses.”

“Thanks guys!” Ginny grinned. 

Hermione bit her lip, and furrowed her brow in thought; she pondered the significance of Ginny and Luna both having feline Patronuses, considering that she, herself, and Harry both had deer Patroni. She wondered if it was common for romantic partners to share similar Patronuses.

Fleur was the next to finally conjure a Corporeal Patronus. Everyone gasped in astonishment when Fleur’s Patronus exhibited the head, front talons, and wings of an Eagle and the body, hind legs, and tail of a Lion.

“Zat ees a Griffin, but are not Patronuses only supposed to be non-magical animals?” Fleur asked in bewilderment.

“I think it might be because you’re part Veela, Fleur...” Hermione surmised. Hermione glanced at Dora as the thought kept niggling at her.

“Dora,” Hermione asked, “was your Patronus always a Golden Eagle?” 

“No, it used to be a Jackrabbit. I like my new one much better... But I’m not sure why it changed.”

“Well,” Hermione began, “I have a theory. I think it might be because you love Fleur. It seems a bit more than coincidental that Ginny and Luna both have feline Patronuses - and that Harry and I have deer Patronuses. It seems likely to me that... er... people who love one another might have similar Patronuses... though I’m not sure how it’s determined which partner’s Patronus changes.”

“I just wish I could produce a Corporeal Patronus,” Neville sighed.

“As do I,” said Viktor.

“Maybe you two should invite Hannah and Lavender to meet you both in Hogsmeade for a double date!” Luna suggested, her eyes gleaming. “That might cheer you both up enough to summon one.”

“That’s _**Genius,**_ Luna!” Hermione squeaked. “Of course... I bet that would do the trick.”

“...Especially if Viktor and Lavender have sex, and Neville has sex with Hannah,” said Luna, grinning.

Harry chortled when Neville turned tomato red and buried his face in his hands. Viktor scratched his forehead and grinned, shaking his head at Luna’s bluntness.

“Right,” said Harry as the titters and giggles abated. “I reckon Hermione and I will show Jennifer our Patronuses now, and then we can all do our Patronuses together.”

Harry and Hermione cast their own Patronuses and the Room of Requirement was bathed in blinding pulses of white magic. Jennifer was utterly taken aback - she couldn’t speak. 

The ethereal Doe and Stag sauntered to Jennifer’s side and bowed their heads as to nuzzle her. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the intense surges of magic and the seraphic ecstasy which permeated the atmosphere of the Room of Requirement swept through her in waves.

Overwhelmed by the sensations, Jennifer passed out and collapsed, but Hermione was close enough to catch her. Harry ran to their side in alarm. Hermione looked up at him, but to his surprise, she looked more thoughtful than distressed...

**~o0o~**

Fawkes squawked loudly and covered his head with his wings when several of the apparatuses in the headmaster’s offices emitted sparks and exploded. Dumbledore shot up from his seat, his eyes bulging, and hurried over to the shelves.

According to the readings of his remaining silver and gold instruments, something highly unusual was going on somewhere in Hogwarts, but Dumbledore had a very good idea of where it was happening, even though the room was an unplottable room within an unplottable castle.

Albus Dumbledore also had a very good idea of who was behind the unusual readings, which were literally off-the-scale and oscillating wildly.

But there had been no Castle-quakes, so the headmaster could be reasonably certain that although the Magical Frequency Signature bore a similarity to the Magical Outbursts which usually accompanied the quakes, the activity generating the current levels of magic was of a different nature.

A thrill shot through the Headmaster when he realised that the particular Application in question appeared to have undergone yet another level of Transmogrification if the readings were any indication. Professor Dumbledore quickly and excitedly made his way to the seventh floor of the castle and tapped his wand twice on the wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

**~o0o~**

Concerned voices began to cut through the luminous eddies and swirls of mist.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Jennifer... Jennifer, are you alright?”

Jennifer blinked as she came to in Hermione’s arms. The Patronuses were gone, but the room was still dazzlingly bright and palpably full of magic. That’s when Jennifer realised that something was different. She felt clean - cleaner than she had felt in a long, long time - as if washed in the purified waters of a mountain stream. She felt light - the heaviness gone - she was floating above clouds, carried by gossamer wings.

The brightness, it wasn’t just in the room - it was inside her, the veil of Darkness swept from her brain. Jennifer no longer felt the looming presence of the rat-faced intruder haunting her soul; the humiliation, pain, and anguish were gone.

But Jennifer’s skin tingled with the sensation of something else, something new which she had never felt before today. Clambering to her feet with Hermione’s assistance, Jennifer peered at the others who all bore expressions of worry. 

“I’m alright - I’m okay,” Jennifer gasped, flicking long strands of dark hair out of her face.“What happened?”

“I’m not entirely certain,” Hermione responded, her brow furrowed in thought. “How do you feel Jennifer?” she asked, though Hermione had a strong notion what the answer would be.

“Good...” Jennifer’s features flickered with puzzlement. _**“Better**_ than good actually - I feel happy. I... I don’t understand. I can still remember everything that’s happened to me clearly.” She frowned slightly.

“I... I suppose I still feel sad about my parents being dead,” Jennifer continued, “but it doesn’t hurt so much. And... and I don’t feel dirty anymore about what Wormtail did to me - just a bit angry, but... but mostly I just feel cheerful - I don’t understand...”

“I thought so,” Hermione nodded. “Do you remember what Harry told you - about Patronuses?”

“They’re for chasing away Dementors right? Dark wraiths that feed on despair and misery and suck your soul out,” Jennifer answered.

“That’s right,” Hermione smiled, “I’m not entirely certain, but what I think happened, is that when Harry’s and my Patronuses surrounded you, they sensed your unhappiness - and somehow chased it away as if it was a Dementor. I don’t know enough about brain chemistry to be absolutely sure, but... but I think they altered yours - I think perhaps they hyper-stimulated the production of natural anti-depressants and endorphins in your brain...”

“I... I think I understand...” Jennifer cupped her chin pensively. “That makes sense - but it seems more than that... something deeper. The last thing I remember before I passed out was feeling... erm... er...” Jennifer turned red and trailed off, uncertain how to describe the intensely orgasmic experience.

A loud trilling echoed twice in the Room of Requirement, startling everyone.

“What the...? Hermione, did that sound like a muggle doorbell to you?” Harry asked, bewildered.

“Yes, I think somebody wants to come in Harry,” Hermione replied with amusement.

Harry dashed over to the doorway and turned the handle.

“Hello Harry... might I come in?” the headmaster asked when Harry opened the door.

“Er... yeah, of course Professor Dumbledore.” Harry noticed the odd gleam of excitement in the old man’s eyes.

“Thank you very much Harry.” Dumbledore glanced around the Room of Requirement and nodded in greeting at the others. He spied Jennifer and smiled warmly at her.

“If I may Harry, were you and Mrs Potter just now practicing your Patronus Charms in this room?” Dumbledore asked. Harry nodded in response, feeling slightly awkward.

Dumbledore peered at Jennifer again, shrewdly observing her demeanor. The headmaster felt almost giddy at what he saw. Glancing around at everyone in the room, Dumbledore appraised each student. His piercing blue eyes finally rested on Luna.

“Yes... yes I think yours will do nicely Miss Lovegood... very nicely indeed!” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled.

“Sir?” Luna looked puzzled.

“May I borrow your wand for a few moments please,” the Headmaster asked. “I wish to perform an experiment before I say any more.”

Hermione’s eyes widened; a sudden bizarre thought crossed her mind. Dumbledore examined Luna’s wand for a moment or two.

“Very nice Miss Lovegood...” Dumbledore nodded approvingly as he swished the wand. “Elm wood, 10 inches, supple... and if I am not mistaken, I believe I detect a Unicorn tail-hair core.”

Luna nodded in agreement. Befuddlement crossed everyone’s features when the headmaster passed Luna’s wand to Jennifer. No one was more confused than Jennifer. What was she supposed to do with the wand? Jennifer gasped when she felt a little prickle in her fingers as she took it.

“Jennifer, if you would be so kind,” said Dumbledore, “concentrate on the tip of the wand and say ‘lumos’.”

Everyone held their breaths in anticipation. Jennifer’s heart began to race.

“What? B...but I can’t...” Jennifer said anxiously.

“Please, indulge an old man’s curiosity...” Dumbledore’s eyes gleamed again. “Just focus your attention on the wand tip. Again, ‘lumos’.”

Jennifer swallowed nervously. She knew the headmaster well enough by now to know that he wasn’t just messing her about. He really wanted her to try. Certain that nothing would happen, Jennifer took a deep breath and concentrated on the tip of the wand.

“Lumos,” said the muggle girl.

There was a collective gasp of astonishment, even from the headmaster, who had been doubting his senses. The tip of Luna’s wand lit up like a beacon in Jennifer’s hand.

Jennifer’s breath quickened, her pulse racing. She didn’t understand. She wasn’t magical; she couldn’t be.

“How... Wh...what’s happening?” Shock etched Jennifer’s features.

“Apparently Jennifer, you are now a Wizard - or a Witch, depending on the term of your preference.” Dumbledore tried hard to control his own breathing.

“But... but that’s impossible - isn’t it?” Harry asked, absolutely floored.

“Professor Dumbledore,” gasped Hermione, “Could Jennifer be one of the rare few who exhibit magic late in life?”

“It is certainly a possibility, Mrs Potter,” Dumbledore responded calmly, “But I think in this case not. The instruments in my office detected a highly unusual spell transmogrification occurring moments ago, accompanied by readings of magical manifestations which were literally off-the-scale. I will have to replace several of my detectors.”

“Merlin!” Dora swore.

“Hang on,” said Ginny, “How can a spell make someone magic? I’ve never heard of anything like it.”

“Nor have I Miss Weasley,” Dumbledore replied. “This phenomenon has never happened before in my knowledge - at least not in Europe or the Near East within the historical record. However, even my knowledge is not exhaustive. It may have occurred in some far flung land - perhaps in the Orient where they employ magical systems which are quite different from our own - or perhaps in secret in the ancient past.”

“In any case,” Dumbledore continued, “judging by the readings in my office, we are not talking about any mere spell. If I were to hazard a guess, when Harry and Mrs Potter conjured their already remarkable Patroni something quite extraordinary happened.

“As I have already explained to the Potters, their Patronuses are fueled by a magic generated by a very rare set of circumstances. As such, the potentiality of their spells continue to ascend from one pinnacle to another - soaring to ever greater heights and generating unpredictable effects - particularly when they conjure their spells in concert with one another.

“All wizards possess a gene sequence which allows us to sense and manipulate the magic which already exists around us, and which is generated by all living beings. These genes may also exist in a dormant state in many muggles - a state known to muggle scientists as ‘recessive genes’...

“I believe that what may have occurred, is that the potent manifestations of this purified magic infused young Jennifer, and activated within her the previously recessive genes... This is the most reasonable assumption that I can draw at this time,” the headmaster concluded.

“Fantastique,” Fleur’s jaw dropped. “Zat ees incredible.” Fleur felt a rush of giddiness as the magnitude of the event she had witnessed hit her.

“Professor...” Fleur’s heart fluttered as she spoke again. “Per’aps eet is because ze Potters’ Patronuses, they come into physical contact wiz Jennifer?”

“Hmm... possibly,” Dumbledore replied. “But I doubt it was necessary. Though it has to a large degree dissipated, the intense and voluminous amount of magic generated by the Potters in the confined space of this room permeates it still. It is my educated opinion that being in the midst of the magic as processed by the spell which produced the Patroni was all that was required.”

“That... that’s amazing,” said Hermione weakly. Harry was speechless as his brain tried to process the astonishing information.

“I’m so thrilled for you Jennifer!” Luna gushed, giving her a hug. “You can stay here at Hogwarts and learn how to be a wizard properly.”

Dumbledore blinked back a few tears. He was as delighted as his students. He knew he would have had to send Jennifer away with Hestia when term started, but he had been reluctant to do so. The headmaster had been considering the creation of another self-spelling wand to perform with a voice activation charm as he had for Filch. But that was not an ideal solution as the spells were limited in power and function.

Nor would it do for news of a muggle masquerading as a wizard at Hogwarts to reach members of the school’s Board of Governors, though he had been willing to risk it. This circumstance was beyond everything Dumbledore had hoped for and believed possible.

Hermione looked at Professor Dumbledore optimistically. Harry peered at him hopefully as well - indeed everyone was expectantly observing the Headmaster.

“Yes,” the headmaster intoned softly, his voice cracking slightly, “Jennifer may remain here at Hogwarts. But she will need a wand of her own. I shall send for Ollivander immediately and give him the specifics of Miss Lovegood’s wand so that he can bring an assortment of the most suitable to test.

“I know I can trust you all to assist Jennifer in acclimating to her new status... But if anyone asks, no matter who it is, for the foreseeable future we must keep the details of Jennifer’s transformation to ourselves. It is absolutely imperative that this remain a secret in these perilous times.

“I believe Mrs Potter’s initial presumption of Jennifer as a Late Bloomer is the most appropriate narrative. It has indeed happened on occasion - rare though it may be.”

Jennifer’s head spun again, but Luna and Hermione clutched her tightly and kept her from collapsing again. Jennifer couldn’t comprehend that this was actually happening. But an hour later, when a ten inch Holly Wand with a Unicorn tail-hair core chose her in Dumbledore’s office, Jennifer finally began to believe.

**~o0o~**

“Merlin’s Beard, you can’t be serious Albus!” gasped Horace Slughorn. “The girl is fifteen years old, and she is only now displaying signs of wizardry? Astounding - I cannot recall the last such occurrence... and a muggleborn to boot.”

“1973...” Minerva McGonagall eyed the twinkling headmaster suspiciously. “The wizard in question was twenty eight at the time...”

“Really Horace!” Hestia Jones interjected scathingly, “What is so astonishing about muggleborns...?”

“No, no Hestia...” Horace cut in quickly, looking rather hurt, “You misunderstand, I’m not prejudiced - Lily Potter was my all-time favourite student after all - and I am quite looking forward to having a chance to teach Hermione Potter and her husband...

“It is just that it is simply even more remarkable that someone with no apparent magical parentage at all should exhibit magic so late in life... Now that Minerva has jogged my memory, to the best of my recollection, the young man who discovered his magic at twenty eight years of age was a pureblood who was thought to be a squib.”

“Indeed!” remarked Filius Flitwick, “And the late bloomer prior to him was a young halfblood witch who didn’t discover her abilities until she was seventeen, in 1956... Horace is making a fair observation.”

“We are seeing more and more muggleborn all the time,” Poppy Pomfrey said pointedly. “It was bound to happen eventually... And I expect that if the muggleborn birthrates keep rising, Hogwarts shall have to expand eventually or open up another school to accommodate the increasing number of wizards.”

“True... true!” Horace nodded thoughtfully. “I have been following the trends myself. I daresay that humankind is evolving and that one day in the far-flung future the majority of humans will be wizards - I just hadn’t considered that I might be alive to witness the burgeoning of a new age of wizardry...”

Horace snorted with mirth when an amusing thought occurred to him, “This will be a real poke in the eye to Old Salazar and his modern followers. One day nearly all wizards will be ‘muggleborn’... I must say, I sometimes regret that I was ever sorted into his House.”

“There, there Horace. Never mind that,” Minerva sympathised, her features softening. She sighed heavily and continued, “Goodness knows, since the Potters first arrived at Hogwarts, I have come to recognise that ‘pureblood’ prejudice, bullying, and Dark wizardry is not confined to any single House...”

“Even in my own House - Peter Pettigrew and Percy Weasley - Gryffindors both - and yet each has demonstrated that Slytherin is not alone in producing wizards with poor judgment and ill intent. It is more that such behaviour has long been expected and even advocated as a virtue in Slytherin House. That House is very fortunate to have had a few decent sorts such as yourself and the Greengrass girls, Horace.”

“Hear, hear... Minerva is quite correct dear!” Pomona Sprout said, nodding in agreement.

“Aye, ain’t tha’ the truth though!” growled Hagrid. “Yer a good man Horace... an’ don’ ferget it!”

“Thank you Minerva, Pomona, Rubeus,” sighed Horace, looking sad. “You are all too kind... I did my best to promote positive values while I was a professor and during my tenure as Head of Slytherin. But I have long felt that my best was not good enough... Tom Riddle is my shame! As is our current Minister...”

“No Horace...” Albus Dumbledore shook his head, “They are the shame of us all. We have all made mistakes in our ongoing struggle to fight the Dark and forge a progressive and democratic future for the wizard world - and I am no less at fault, having made some of the biggest mistakes of them all.

“But here we are, rectifying our errors and all working together. Again, I cannot thank you enough Horace for joining the Order of the Phoenix and giving me your memory. I know how difficult that was for you.”

“Albus, my dear fellow, my friend - thank you for being so persistent. I had let my fears get the best of me, but you know me too well, and your offers were too good to pass up.” Horace smiled warmly again, knowing that he was safe among those he could count as friends. But there was one - one who had been a prized student - who was nowhere to be seen.

“I say Albus, what has become of Severus?” Horace asked. “I know he is among your staff, and has been tutoring the Potters, but I have barely seen him since I have arrived. Surely he shall also be taking part in helping Miss Watts catch up her wizarding education for the beginning of term?”

“Indeed he shall Horace,” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled merrily again. “However, he is enjoying a respite with someone he has grown close to in recent weeks...”

“Merlin’s Beard!” Horace gasped, and the others - even Minerva - cracked a smile. “Severus has found love at long last? That is simply splendid! Who is his paramour I might ask? You simply must tell me.”

Poppy Pomfrey’s eyes crinkled in mirth. Horace had always been quite the gossip. But it also gave her joy to be able to regale the old wizard with good news - particularly as none of the others appeared to be forthcoming.

“Horace dear, Severus has been spending time with Narcissa Black, since a short while after the dissolution of her marriage. She sought solace in Severus’s arms, and has apparently found a measure of it - though truth be told, it is too early yet to say what may come of it.”

The gathering ended a short time later, and the others filed out of the staff-room, leaving only the headmaster and two shrewd looking witches.

“Alright Albus,” snapped Minerva, “Why don’t you tell us what really happened? _**Please**_ don’t tell me you created another self-spelling wand...”

“I can get naught past you, can I Minerva,” chuckled Dumbledore. “I must say, I am experiencing no small amount of deja vu at the moment.”

Even Poppy raised her eyebrows in concern, “Albus... surely not! The school’s Board of Governors...”

Dumbledore raised a hand and Madam Pomfrey quieted.

“Please, do not fret. Jennifer Watts’ magic is her own, I can assure you...” he began. Poppy looked relieved but Minerva continued to eye the Headmaster narrowly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“...but indeed,” the Headmaster continued, “the manner of young Jennifer’s manifestation of magic is not likely due to a late start as I led you and the others to believe. But I must again implore you both to keep this entirely to yourselves, as it involves our young friends - the Potters...”

Minerva leaned her head back and removed her glasses to massage her temples, letting out a long groan.

“Would you like a pain potion for that headache dear?” Poppy asked, trying her utmost to keep a straight face.

For her part, Poppy was delighted, and she knew that despite herself, Minerva would be very happy for the girl. Indeed, as the headmaster made clear the circumstances under which Jennifer Watts’ recessive magical genes had been activated, Minerva’s countenance softened, and tears welled in her eyes.

“That... that is just beautiful Albus,” sniffled Minerva, dabbing her eyes with a hanky. “The poor girl, she deserves to be happy... deserves the chance to make a new life for herself. The Potters - we all have so much to be thankful to them for - they have made such a positive difference in so many lives...”


	45. The Summer of Love and Discontent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more explicit version of this chapter is now available in _Moments in Love: The Steamy Version._

Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour frowned in perplex, wondering at the Minister’s request for a meeting as he knocked on the open door of her office. Surely his assistant could have brought the files she needed. Minister Umbridge looked up from her desk and beamed.

“Ah, Rufus, splendid. Do come in won’t you.” 

“Of course Madam Minister - I have the files you require. How else may I be of service this morning?”

“Some very disturbing information has come to my attention, and I would like you to look into it at once...” The Minister handed the Head Auror several files as she took the ones that he had brought her. “It would appear to indicate that the _Daily Prophet’s_ recent inquiry regarding corruption in the Wizengamot was remarkably prescient... 

“If you would please peruse these, I believe you will find enough actionable evidence to follow through and make an arrest.”

Scrimgeour raised his bushy eyebrows at the heading on one of the documents. He regarded the Minister shrewdly for a moment, then flicked through the files.

“Pembroke Chamberlain?” Scrimgeour pursed his lips and furrowed his brows in consternation. “Are you certain of this information Minister? He is highly regarded by many, despite being somewhat... indecisive.”

“Oh, most certain indeed Rufus,” the Minister replied, her voice dripping with honey. “After the Prophet’s article, I put the Unspeakable Office on the case, as it required a sensitive undercover operation. And indeed the investigation yielded these startling details of Mr Chamberlain’s dangerous associations.”

Scrimgeour considered that for a moment. It wasn’t uncommon for the Unspeakable Office to conduct undercover investigations. But the case file still struck Rufus as odd.

“His past associations with Voldemort were determined to have been due to the Imperius curse Madam Minister...”

“Oh, no Rufus...” the Minister interjected, “it is Mr Chamberlain’s _**current**_ associations with which we are most concerned. The man has been consorting with criminals who are known to have connections to Albus Dumbledore - Mundungus Fletcher is quite an unsavory character, I can assure you.”

“Yes! I am well aware of Mr Fletcher’s record...” The Head Auror nodded. “But most of his criminal activities in the past have been rather petty. These new accusations, if true, are quite disturbing. Trafficking in enslaved muggles is a serious offence - I shall conduct an investigation into Chamberlain and Fletcher immediately to confirm the Unspeakable Office report.”

“Thank you Rufus! I knew I could count on you.” Minister Umbridge smiled appreciatively. She watched the Head Auror depart in satisfaction, knowing that he would find plenty of evidence to arrest and convict Pembroke Chamberlain - thus stripping him of his seat on the Wizengamot. Rookwood had made certain that there would be lots of evidence to find.

The Minister peered in her own copies of the files and scribbled a note, pleased at how swimmingly her Senior Undersecretary was acclimating to his role. He had been slightly reticent to support the Unspeakable Office’s involvement at first, but Percy Weasley had quickly seen the political value of framing a Potter Appeaser like Chamberlain and a criminal associate of Dumbledore such as Mundungus Fletcher.

Dolores could scratch yet another Undesirable from her list of the “wobblies” who had supported the Potters during their trial.

Minister Umbridge opened the file which Scrimgeour had brought her regarding more muggle disappearances. She sighed heavily, certain that Voldemort was behind them. As much as Dolores eventually wanted Voldemort dead and gone, he was far too useful alive for the time being - providing a distraction for Dumbledore and his people. Not to mention that as long as wizards were afraid, they would willingly accept her authoritative leadership.

A sinister smile played across Dolore’s features. Another plan began to form as she perused the file of missing muggles. Yes indeed - this fit rather nicely with her own plans. Now Dolores could also link the crimes of Voldemort with the crimes for which she and Rookwood had framed Chamberlain and Fletcher.

**~o0o~**

The Dark Lord was perplexed by the article in the _Daily Prophet._ Did not the imbeciles who ran the newspaper realise that He, Voldemort, was the one to be most feared? Why on earth would they be hinting that the Old Fool who ran Hogwarts was linked to the muggle disappearances?

“Wormtail, who is this... this _**miscreant**_ \- this associate of Dumbledore - Mundungus Fletcher?”

“My Lord?”

“The muggle disappearances,” Lord Voldemort hissed, “They are being attributed by and large to this Mr Fletcher. He is apparently engaged in selling enslaved muggles to wizards of means, and the _Prophet_ strongly implies that Dumbledore may have operational knowledge of his activities.” Voldemort snorted in derision at the ludicrous notion.

As if Dumbledore had it in him to harm a single hair on a muggle’s head - or anyone else’s head for that matter. The Old Fool couldn’t even bring himself to kill Gellert Grindelwald after defeating him, the most notorious and murderous Dark Wizard in history prior to Lord Voldemort.

“To the best of my knowledge, Mundungus Fletcher is nothing but a petty thief My Lord,” Wormtail replied in bewilderment. “Not even fit to be a Snatcher. He was employed by the Order of the Phoenix during the last war merely as someone with criminal contacts which could be exploited for information - he avoided any of the actual conflicts between the Order and the Death Eaters...”

“Ah... so that is why I do not recollect him. In any case, it would appear that he has moved up in the world to have drawn the attention of the Dark Witch,” Voldemort mused aloud. “I do believe it is time to remind the Dark Witch and my former supporters of whom it is that they truly need to fear. How many Inferi do we have now?”

“Around four hundred so far my Lord!” Wormtail replied, “If we are to raise the numbers you desire to take Hogwarts with, then we should conserve our forces...”

“I concur Wormtail,” the Dark Lord nodded approvingly. “Two simultaneous attacks would strike the right note - but not with the Inferi. I believe the Snatchers and a few Werewolves should pay another visit to London - to Diagon Alley... 

“And another attack on a muggle location, this time by Snatchers with a few giants to maximise the damage. Unleashing a regiment of Dementors would not go amiss either... Make it happen Wormtail!”

Bellatrix had been listening to the exchange intently but feigning nonchalance as she filed her fingernails. It occurred to her that more needed to be done - it was not enough that Nott and his son were locked in the dungeon beneath the castle. Lucius had escaped his rightful fate. 

His cowardly betrayal of the Dark Lord was a personal affront. Bellatrix would break out her whips just for Lucius and his son, then she would fillet them and turn them into Inferi. But he was completely inaccessible for the time-being. Lucius was likely laying low at the Minister’s home, and her home’s location was utterly unknown. That was a shame. Bellatrix would have enjoyed breaking Lucius - but perhaps she would get another opportunity.

Bellatrix considered some of the others who most deserved to die.

Not the Carrows - Bellatrix hoped to bring them back into the fold. She missed her fun with Alecto. Bellatrix found herself growing misty at the idea of she and Alecto torturing Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers together again - not to mention that she would have a good excuse to wear her black leather.

Then Bellatrix remembered that some of the most Treacherous could likely be found deep in the bowels of the Ministry itself and smiled.

“My Lord,” the Dark Consort said seductively, “I think we should see some of the traitors dead - perhaps Rookwood or Yaxley - they both hold positions at the Ministry. If I crucify them in a public manner - maybe then the Unfaithful will beg to be spared from your righteous retribution.”

Nagini hissed as the Dark Lord absentmindedly stroked her head. He chuckled coldly. Bellatrix was getting bored already. Killing muggles and turning them into Inferi was clearly not enough to satisfy her bloodlust. She wanted some real action.

“Indeed Bellatrix, a public execution would make quite a statement,” the Dark Lord agreed. “Find Yaxley and Rookwood then, and string them up in the Atrium of the Ministry - but take care not to be caught.”

“Thank you my Lord!” the Dark Consort purred. “Wormtail and I will begin to plan the attacks at once.”

An evil smirk tugged at the corner of Wormtail’s lips. This could be the opportunity to find himself another suitable plaything. Perhaps Wormtail would enlist the aid of Lockhart for the muggle operation - Gilderoy seemed to share his taste for the younger females.

**~o0o~**

As he buckled his belt and tucked in his shirt, Gilderoy Lockhart felt quite pleased with himself. With satisfaction, he regarded the muggle girl asleep in her bed, who was now none the wiser. Having been obliviated, she would never recall her violation at his hands.

Gilderoy’s evening of rest and relaxation was well deserved. He had successfully assisted in the capture of numerous muggles for the Dark Lord’s army of Inferi by planting evidence on, and altering the memories of yet another muggle. Muggle police would simply presume the man was a serial killer, and Gilderoy had earned himself a Dark Mark, placing himself above the lowlife who made up the ranks of the Snatchers.

Gilderoy was more elated than he had thought he would be in the Dark Lord’s service. He felt more alive and much freer as the Dark Lord’s Servant than he had while trying to maintain his image of purity in the House of Dumbledore.

**~o0o~**

Having just sat down for breakfast, Harry picked up the morning edition of the _Daily Prophet_ , wondering what sort of rubbish it had in store for him today. The paper had been having a go at him and Dumbledore every other day it seemed. He frowned at the headline then glanced at Hermione who had just started eating her porridge.

“Hermione, isn’t Mundungus Fletcher that guy at the Order meeting? ... The one that Mrs Weasley and Madam Bones didn’t like?”

“Oh, you mean the one who was smoking a pipe and chatting to Sirius?”

“Yeah... that’s the one,” said Harry, nodding. “He’s just been arrested for trafficking in muggle slaves - him and one of the Wizengamot members in the middle who supported us - Pembroke Chamberlain.”

“Bloody hell!” Dora swore. “That’s ridiculous! Dung would never... ‘e’s a bit of a reprobate, but ‘e’s alright really...” 

“What? Let me see that...” Hermione scanned the article quickly, her eyes widening in shock. “It’s even worse than that - this is awful! The article is implying that Dumbledore must have known what Mundungus and Pembroke Chamberlain were up to...”

Everyone around the Mingling Table looked shocked.

“That’s bloody mad!” Harry gasped. “There’s no way...” 

“It’s gotta be a frame-up,” said Dora, scowling. “I mean the muggle disappearances - they’re all on Voldy obviously.”

“Yeah... yeah, of course,” said Harry, nodding. He glanced up at the staff-table to see how the professors were reacting. McGonagall looked livid, but Dumbledore’s features were as calm as ever.

“Per’aps ees best that we forget it for now,” sighed Fleur. “There is nothing we can do at ze moment...”

“Fleur’s right,” said Luna. “Let the Order fuss about it. I’m sure Daddy will be publishing something to counter it tomorrow... We should just try and concentrate on studying and enjoying ourselves as much as possible while we can.” 

“You’re both right. There’s not much point in getting all worked up about it,” said Hermione, chucking the paper aside.

“Morning!” said the cheery voice of someone who obviously hadn’t read the paper yet.

Harry was surprised when the new witch with long ebony hair gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek, before also giving the same to Hermione and taking a seat opposite them at the Mingling Table. Hermione beamed, returning Jennifer’s smile.

“Er... what was that for?” Harry asked, flushing slightly.

“That’s for making me feel better, and turning me into a witch,” Jennifer giggled. “I still can’t really believe I have magic now. But I woke up this morning and my wand still works - and I didn’t have a single nightmare last night for the first time in months...”

After breakfast, Jennifer began lessons with the professors and Harry made his breakthrough with quadratic equations. Finally he had the tools to complete his Arithmancy summer assignment. Harry doggedly slaved away in the library with Hermione’s patient assistance, determined to finish the rest of his homework assignments quickly so he could focus on training.

Confident that the books were safe with only the Potters and their friends currently at Hogwarts for the summer, Madam Pince had decided that she could leave the library unattended during open hours and enjoy the holidays as much as possible.

Hermione had already completed all of her assignments and sat on Harry’s lap as he studied, providing equal parts Inspiration to work hard, and Distraction when he needed to rest his brain. Distraction eventually won out when Hermione’s reward-kisses for a job well done inflamed his senses.

A sudden naughty idea crossed Harry’s mind and he considered the possibilities. Neville and Viktor were spending the day in Hogsmeade with Hannah and Lavender. Ginny and Luna, Dora and Fleur had all decided to take the opportunity for a Hogsmeade visit as well. And the professors were all either occupied teaching Jennifer the basics, or lounging about.

Harry and Hermione more or less had the school to themselves. 

Feeling assured that they were safe in the library, Harry flicked his wand and silently cast a muffling charm at the entrance while Hermione’s lips were occupied nuzzling his neck. One hand behind his head, the other roaming his chest, Hermione was none the wiser until she heard the click of the library door lock when Harry cast his second spell.

“Harry!” squeaked Hermione; her eyes widened in both trepidation and excitement as he slipped his hand under her skirt. “What are you doing?”

“Studying of course...” Harry replied with a grin.

“But what if someone comes in?” she moaned.

“There’s no-one else here - everyone’s busy or out of the castle... It’s just us,” he whispered. 

Harry trapped Hermione’s lips with his own before she could retort again, and his other hand roaming her curves. Hermione’s heart raced and every nerve tingled with elation. She was afraid that they would get caught, but she didn’t want Harry to stop. Hermione gave herself to the moment, melting in the heat of a long, burning kiss. 

Still giddy with delight, Hermione slipped from Harry’s thighs and applied herself to Harry's needs. Fingers tangled in Hermione’s tawny curls, a swell of euphoria took him and he burst. The unrelenting tempest of ardour swept them both into a feverish frenzy, and soon Harry and Hermione’s clothes littered the floor of the library. Hermione fell back upon a table gasping, pulling Harry with her.

The intoxicating scent of leather bindings and parchment mingled with heady musk - the delicious friction of passionate abandon - Hermione reached new heights of ecstasy and cried out Harry’s name. Succumbing to the tremors of Hermione’s bliss, Harry lost himself again. Sparks of magic flew - arced like lightning - and in the Restricted Section of the library, a number of books of Dark magic screamed in agony...

**~o0o~**

For a midsummer day there were an unusual amount of Hogwarts students in Hogsmeade, all there ostensibly on an overnight outing together. Gathered in the Three Broomsticks for lunch, the youths chatted and laughed, nursing their butterbeers as they ate.

Neville glanced at Viktor and Lavender who were snogging at the far end of the table. Turning pink, he tried to focus on his bangers and mash - which was proving difficult as Hannah was whispering and giggling with Luna and Ginny, occasionally peeking at Neville. 

When lunch was finished, Hannah grabbed Neville’s hand and dragged him up the stairs to one of the rooms that Dora and Fleur had rented through the following afternoon. Neville peered about nervously, spying Rosmerta at the end of the bar serving another patron.

“Er... aren’t we too young?” Neville anxiously asked, halfway up the stairs.

“Don’t be silly,” said Hannah breezily. “I turned fifteen a few months ago and you’ll be fifteen in a couple of weeks... I know lots of boys and girls who’ve already had sex - well a few anyway - Ginny and Luna for example, and _**they’re**_ a year younger than us...” 

“But are you sure about this Hannah?” moaned Neville. “What if your parents find out?”

“They won’t,” she giggled, “I promise. They think I’m just spending the afternoons with you and having an overnight with Lavender... and Lavender’s parents think the same thing about her and Viktor. Anyway, what does it matter... I love you Neville!”

Neville gulped when they reached the well polished oak door of the room above the pub, resigning himself to his fate...

**~o0o~**

Harry and Hermione grinned at each other as they dressed, both glad that the rather explosive climax of their escapade in the library hadn’t damaged any of the books. Having worked up an appetite, they made their way to the Great Hall. Following lunch, Professor Dumbledore caught up with the Potters before they exited the Great Hall.

“Please excuse my intrusion, but I was hoping that I might observe your practice in the Room of Requirement this afternoon. I wish to examine your spellwork.”

“Er... of course sir...” said Harry.

“Are we going to do some experiments then?” asked Hermione eagerly, her eyes shining.

“In a manner of speaking,” the headmaster replied. “It is my intention to measure the current output of your spells. I must return to my office briefly to retrieve some of my monitoring equipment, but I can meet you outside the Room of Requirement in ten minutes.”

Ten minutes later, the headmaster and his students were setting up his instruments in the Room of Requirement. As they did so, Dumbledore explained the workings of his devices.

“This one here measures the frequencies, and the other measures the power level of the magic - I have had to repair those several times recently...” Dumbledore chuckled. “Due to the necessity for precise calibration, I cannot place an Unbreakable Charm on them - it would rather defeat their purpose.

“And this one detects the types of spells performed and locates them wherever they are performed on Hogwarts grounds. It is however, only calibrated to react to spells of a certain level of intensity due to the high degree of magic which flows through the castle during school-term. It would be all be ‘noise’ otherwise - a cacophony of signals...”

“Thus, it does not generally register every minor charm or jinx. And of course, it cannot locate magic performed in this room - the Room of Requirement - from the outside, as the room is Unplottable. However, I would like you to begin with something small to establish a baseline for comparison... perhaps a Cheering Charm cast simultaneously, as one.”

“Alright Hermione,” said Harry. “You ready? ...on three.”

Harry counted down; on the count of three he and Hermione silently performed the Charm. Dumbledore peered at his contraptions, looking only mildly surprised. Both Potters felt a bit giggly as they peered expectantly at Dumbledore, waiting for him to inform them of the results. 

“Now see this reading here?” the headmaster began. “For an average sized class performing Cheering Charms, it would not register at all, even if I were standing with my instrument right next to them, because it is a rather minor charm, requiring very little magical power - yet I am getting a clear indication that a Cheering Charm has been performed.

“This other reading indicates the power level - and currently it indicates that the power levels of your Cheering Charms far exceed that of ordinary Cheering Charms, even done as regular group practice in class.”

“Would it make a difference if we were both touching - like holding hands - when we perform our spells simultaneously?” asked Hermione “I was just wondering because both times we summoned our Patronuses we were in physical contact.”

“Physical Proximity and Directionality can certainly make a difference between the caster and the subject with certain spells, and it is quite likely that being in physical contact with one another may provide some extra measure of power for some sets of spells as well,” Dumbledore answered. “But the difference will likely be quite insignificant if you are very near to one another.

“However, the extent of your range is something worth discovering during practice. It may vary from spell to spell. I would ask that when you do experiment in that regard, please take notes and relay any pertinent findings to me so that I may observe them for myself in your next proceedings. 

“Of course Professor,” Hermione beamed.

“Now, do you have any additional spells which you have practiced together which you would like to perform before I observe your Patronuses?”

“Erm... Maybe,” Harry replied. “What do you think Hermione? Protego Maxima...?”

“Yes,” said Hermione without hesitation. “I think we’ve practiced that the most besides our Patronuses.” 

“Right, here goes then...”

The air in the Room of Requirement rippled with magic as the Potters performed the powerful shield spell several times. Dumbledore nodded with satisfaction at the readings, noting that with each casting, the spell’s potency grew.

“Well... it would appear that that the power of the magic behind the spells is still developing. It is quite possible - and I daresay quite likely - that your power levels may eventually reach an equilibrium. However, nothing is certain at this stage...”

After continuing to lecture a bit on Magical Theory, Dumbledore sat in the comfy armchair he had conjured and felt the waves of bliss wash over him when Harry and Hermione simultaneously performed their Patronus Charms. The headmaster quickly took his leave before he was completely overcome with emotion, but not before expressing great pride in the Potters and their accomplishments in a rather hoarse voice.

“D’you think he’s alright Hermione?” asked Harry with a bemused expression. “Dumbledore looked a bit teary.”

“He’ll be okay Harry. He’s just feeling a bit overwhelmed,” Hermione replied giddily, “I think the euphoria created by our Patronuses may have affected him.”

**~o0o~**

Jennifer was exhausted after her long first day receiving instruction from the professors. After dinner with Harry and Hermione, she retired to the quarters she had shared with Hestia for a few weeks. Settling into bed, she snuggled happily under the covers and quickly fell into a deep slumber.

Hestia was happy to see Jennifer sleeping soundly by the time she had concluded a nightcap with Dumbledore and a few of the professors. It was nice to see the girl not shaking and crying out from nightmares anymore. She wondered if the appearance of her magical abilities had anything to do with it - but for some reason Hestia couldn’t help wondering if the Potters had something to do with it.

She sat for a few moments in the chair at the side of Jennifer’s bed watching her sleep. Hestia gently stroked Jennifer’s long black hair and sighed as a swell of motherly affection filled her. Jennifer looked enough like her, and was still young enough, that Hestia could easily imagine the girl as her own daughter.

“Good night Sweetie,” Hestia whispered, giving Jennifer a kiss on the forehead as she got up to leave.

Jennifer stirred slightly when Hestia reached the doorway.

“Night Mum,” Jennifer murmured in her sleep.

Hestia’s heart skipped a beat and she quickly stifled a sob with her hand as her eyes filled with tears.

**~o0o~**

Neville woke up the next morning and yawned, wishing that he could hold onto the dream a little longer. It had been the best dream that he could ever remember having, and he felt invigorated. Blinking in the bright sunlight pouring through the window, everything looked strange.

He wasn’t in the Gryffindor dorm at Hogwarts. Neville gasped as everything that had happened the previous night fell into place. He rolled over in his bed and his eyes widened when he saw blonde hair strewn across the pillow next to him and the partially covered nude figure of his girlfriend. 

Already properly awake, Hannah snuggled right up against Neville and grinned. Neville’s heart began to race.

“It wasn’t just a dream...” Neville murmured giddily.

“Of course not, silly billy!” chortled Hannah. “But you woke too soon. I was just about to try something to wake you up that Luna said I should try - of course it’ll be a bit different for us than it is for Ginny and Luna, you being a boy...”

“Er...?”

Hannah almost lost her nerve seeing Neville peer awkwardly at her, but she and Neville had shagged twice in his bed before passing out last night, giving of themselves to each other for the first time, and she really wanted to try this. Last night had been amazing, and what Luna had told her about sounded like it would be just as much fun.

Heart beating rapidly in trepidation, Hannah fortified her resolve. Before she could talk herself out of it, Hannah tossed the blankets back and leaned over. 

Neville was shocked. It had never even occurred to him that anyone would dream of doing that. Embarrassed, Neville almost stopped her, but Hannah’s actions felt too good. Feeling himself beginning to lose it, he tried to get Hannah’s attention.

“Hannah,” he gasped between ragged breaths. “I’m about to... er... you know!”

Hannah just looked back at Neville with a naughty gleam in her eyes and ignored him, continuing her ministrations. Neville couldn’t hold back any longer. 

“I... er... I just wanted to see what it would be like,” she said with a nervous giggle when she was finished. “Did you like it then?”

Neville grinned. “Er... I loved it! ... Erm... if you’d like, I could... er... return the favour.”

Hannah hesitated, then beamed at him. “I don’t have to go home till this evening, so we’ve got plenty of time...”

**~o0o~**

Later that afternoon, after lessons with the professors were completed, Jennifer joined Harry and Hermione as they practiced spells together in the Room of Requirement. She was surprised when Harry had her begin with half an hour of calisthenics.

“Er... It’s good to get in a routine,” Harry told Jennifer. “Being fit helps you stay sharp and quick on your toes.”

“On my toes...?” Jennifer looked puzzled. “I didn’t think wizards needed exercise to do magic.”

“Being strong and fast helps in a fight...” said Hermione. 

“...and we’re going to teach you some really basic combat spells today,” Harry added, “because I bet none of the professors have showed you any. Am I right?” 

Jennifer nodded.

“Right, thought not...” said Harry. “They don’t really have a class just focused on learning how to fight with magic at Hogwarts. Defence Against the Dark Arts is mostly how to defend against dark magical creatures and some dark spells...”

“...and most of the proper defensive spells aren’t usually taught until fifth and sixth year Charms class,” said Hermione.

“And at some point we’re going to practice a bit of muggle martial arts too,” Harry continued, “but don’t worry about that for now - Dora will train you when we get around to that. We’re just going to practice stunning and shielding spells today, so you can get the hang of it.”

Jennifer swallowed nervously. “Er... alright then,” said Jennifer, nodding again.

Jennifer was a fast learner, quickly picking up the wand movements and the pronunciations of the spell incantations. Hermione rather thought that Jennifer was a bit like Harry, in that she seemed to have a natural instinct for physical activity, and had remarkably good hand-eye coordination. 

“Excellent!” Harry grinned at the end of the lesson. “You’ve got great aim. We’ll have you up to speed in no time flat...”

**~o0o~**

The following day at breakfast, Harry and Hermione were pleased to see Neville and Viktor both looking much cheerier. Everyone decided that it would be nice to spend the morning on the quidditch pitch. While the others tossed a quaffle around, Viktor and Harry chased a snitch. After flying around for a bit, Harry and Viktor decided to take a breather.

“Zat vos amazing catch Harry,” Viktor panted as he dismounted his broom. “You come out of nowhere on that last one.”

Harry grinned, clutching the struggling snitch in his hand as he sat next to Viktor on the field of the Quidditch pitch. Luna, Ginny, Fleur, and Dora continued to fly around and throw the quaffle through the hoops while Neville watched from the stands.

“Thanks Viktor!” said Harry, “I don’t really miss playing Quidditch for Gryffindor when I have someone to fly with. It’ll be fun to have a few more when the Twins and Ron come back... but what about you right now? Will you still be able to fly for the Bulgarian team if you’re staying in Britain?”

“I vant to, but it vill be difficult, so zey are letting me take time off for now to decide vot I want more...” Viktor reddened and trailed off.

Harry had an inkling of what was bothering Viktor.

“Er... So how did your time in Hogsmeade go with Lavender the last couple of days?” asked Harry.

Viktor’s face lit up, but the blush deepened. “Er... ze dates were very good. Thanks to Dora, Ve find nice private place to... I... er... I probably should not speak of it too much though,” Viktor heaved a deep sigh. “I vant to marry Lavender, but I think her parents might not approve while she is still in school - but I wait if I haff to.”

“That’s great,” said Harry. “So did you...er... ‘pop the question’ then?” Harry had to ask. It only made sense really, if Viktor was willing to wait until Lavender finished school.

Viktor’s sudden grin and nod was Harry’s confirmation. Harry grinned back. He expected Lavender was excitedly telling Parvati all about it.

Harry looked up when he heard Hermione’s voice and he spotted her entering the Quidditch Pitch carrying the never used Firebolt he’d bought for her on the outing to Diagon Alley the previous summer - the same day he’d bought her wand holster. Jennifer was with her, looking really anxious.

“I think I take my leave,” Krum said to Harry with a smirk. “Zese moments are special for you, no?”

“Er... yeah, I suppose,” Harry replied, turning a bit pink. “But it looks like Hermione brought her own broom today, so maybe she’s finally ready to give it a go...”

“Hello Viktor! Hi Harry, would you mind teaching Jennifer how to fly?” Hermione asked brightly. “She can use my broom, and I’ll ride with you...”

“Vot did I say?” Viktor chuckled quietly, clapping Harry on the shoulder. Then he said a bit louder, “Good Afternoon, Hermione, Jennifer, I vas just leaving. Haff fun flying.” Viktor gave Harry a wink and strode out of the pitch carrying his broom.

“Are you sure you want to try this Jennifer?” Harry asked, eyeing the nervous looking girl. Ginny and Luna swooped down to see what was happening, followed closely by Dora and Fleur.

“Er...” Jennifer glanced at Hermione and gulped. “I do really - it looks like loads of fun. But I’m a bit scared...”

“Hi Jennifer! You can ride with me for a bit at first to get used to it if you’d like,” Luna offered dreamily.

“Oh...er...are you sure Luna? I don’t want to interrupt your game...”

“I don’t mind. I’m not very good at throwing the quaffle anyway, but I love to fly. Come on, get on behind me.” Jennifer clambered onto Luna’s broom behind her and put her arms around Luna’s waist.

“Hold on tight,” Luna giggled as she ascended into the air and Jennifer gave a little shriek. Ginny zoomed up after them, chasing them around the hoops.

“Wotcher Hermione,” greeted the bubblegum pink haired girl. Dora peered admiringly at Hermione’s Firebolt.

“Oh Hi Dora,” Hermione grinned, “You might as well have a go with my broom. It looks like Jennifer won’t be needing it after all right now.”

“Cheers Hermione!” said Dora. “I’ve always wanted a go on one of these...”

“I’m sorry Dora,” said Harry. “I never realised. You could’ve had a go on mine...”

“No worries Harry! I never said anything about it before, and I hadn’t really thought about it until loungin’ around Hogwarts this summer.”

Hermione mounted Harry’s broom behind him and sighed happily. Harry grinned when she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and snuggled against his back. Moments later they were soaring around the towers of the castle, Hermione’s golden tresses whipping in the wind.

That afternoon in the Room of Requirement, after practicing for several hours, Neville and Viktor both managed a Corporeal Patronus, much to their delight. Neville’s appeared to be a Shire Horse, and Viktor’s a falcon.

**~o0o~**

Several days later, Hermione was thrilled at how quickly Jennifer was progressing. In just the last few days, Jennifer had managed to learn a lot of the basic First Year spells. But Jennifer sighed at the piles of homework the professors had given her.

“I don’t mind all the reading,” Jennifer told Hermione. “It’s absolutely fascinating and I’m a pretty fast reader. It’s just... there’s so much to learn - I’ll never be able to catch up to fifth year by start of term...”

“Don’t worry, I can tutor you. You’re doing amazingly well already,” Hermione replied encouragingly. “You probably won’t be able to manage any of the elective classes - except for Care of Magical Creatures. But I’m sure you’ll do well enough to at least take the core classes for fifth year.”

“And I don’t know if I’ll _**ever**_ get used to writing with these antiquated quills and inkpots,” Jennifer sighed in annoyance as a splash of ink stained her Charms essay.

“Don’t worry about splodges, there’s a good spell for cleaning up the ink... Tergeo,” said Hermione, pointing her wand at the page and siphoning up the excess ink.

“Oh, ta Hermione!” Jennifer brightened.

“And actually, Harry can help you with your calligraphy, as well as Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Hermione said glowingly, “He’s better than me in Defence. And either of us can help you with Potions...”

“Urgh! Potions - that teacher is really creepy,” Jennifer shivered. “He looks like a vampire, and he’s awfully strict...”

“He’s alright really,” Hermione said sympathetically. “He was quite horrible to me and Harry - especially to Harry - for much of our first year here. But something about him changed. He’s quite nice to us these days - nicer to everyone really...”

“And you’ll find that a lot of teachers here are very strict... they’re a bit like the old-fashioned teachers in boarding-school stories...”

“YES! That’s exactly what I was going to say,” Jennifer interrupted animatedly, her eyes turning big, “Except for Dumbledore - he’s a real softy - I feel like I’m in one of Enid Blyton's school stories, or those Jennings and Darbishire books...”

“Don’t tell Harry I said this,” Hermione giggled, “but he’s always reminded me a little bit of Jennings... and Professor Snape was Harry’s Mr Wilkins until Snape finally came around.”

Jennifer began giggling too, feeling much better about the piles of homework. “I just realised why I feel like I’m in _First Form at St Clare’s_... Professor McGonagall is _such_ a Miss Roberts...”

Hermione snorted and both girls fell into a fit of laughter.

**~o0o~**

When she’d finished cleaning her teeth, Hermione found Harry reading the book she’d come across in the Room of Requirement. She smiled brightly to see him looking so happy.

“This is amazing Hermione,” he said eagerly. “I never realised... I mean... some of this stuff about Chi, even though it's for muggles to do martial arts, it still looks like magic.”

“That’s because ‘Chi’ is just another name for the body’s magical energy field,” Hermione began, having already read the book, “like Dumbledore was talking about when he was explaining why our Patronuses are so powerful...”

“Wait... doesn’t that mean that muggles can do magic then?” Harry frowned, looking puzzled. “I don’t understand... I thought Dumbledore said that people had to have magical genes...”

“Well, they _do_ to be able to manipulate magic and do spells like conjuring and charming, or transfiguring things - obviously muggles can’t do that sort of thing,” Hermione replied, “But _everyone_ has the potential to learn how to feel and control their _own_ energy fields to some extent... It only makes sense if you think about it.”

“Oh!” said Harry, his eyes widening as light dawned. “Yeah... right! Of course... that does make sense.”

“Yes, and there’s some more interesting bits towards the end of the book. It has an addendum to the original muggle text with detailed illustrations and instruction specifically regarding the energy field, and how to use it for meditation and self-healing and other things... It’s not just for fighting.

“Anyway,” Hermione continued, snatching the book from his hands, a golden gleam in her eye, “you can look at that later. I think it’s about time I helped you with something you’ve been dying to practice for a while.”

“Wait,” Harry gaped, feeling a tingle of excitement. “You mean... _really?”_ Harry felt slightly surprised. He hadn’t been certain that Hermione would really want to follow through.

Hermione grinned and nodded. 

“You’re sure then Hermione? I mean - I know you’re not into girls...”

“Says who?” Hermione smirked. 

“But... _really?”_

_“Honestly_ Harry! Is that all you’ve got to say?” Hermione rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “I’m sorry Harry... I didn’t mean to tease you,” she giggled. 

“Look, I said I’d help you change into a girl completely Harry, and I meant it. And... and if I’m being totally honest I have to admit that a part of me is really looking forward to this. I wasn’t sure that I would actually like being with a girl in that way - but ever since Fleur kissed us a couple of times, I realised it actually felt quite nice... 

“And now... now I really do think it would be fun to... er... do it - but only with you Harry. Though I think it would be more appropriate to call you Harriet when you’re in girl form.”

“Alright then,” said Harry eagerly. “Er... so how should we go about this then?”

“Right, well you should probably morph the rest of you into a girl first,” Hermione replied, “so that you don’t feel awkward when you finally get the last bit done.” 

Harry followed Hermione’s instructions while she rummaged through the bookshelf to find her book of female anatomy and took off her nightie. Then she passed him a mirror. Hermione pointed her wand at Harry’s glasses and muttered a magnifying incantation. 

An hour and a half later, after numerous tries, Hermione declared that everything looked just right.

“Okay _**Harriet,**_ it looks smashing!” Hermione giggled. “Now let’s try out the new plumbing to make sure all the sensitive bits are in the right place so that it actually senses everything like it ought to...” 

“Perfect, Harriet!” giggled Hermione again when Harriet wriggled and moaned at Hermione's touch...

**~o0o~**

Broderick Bode sighed. He was working late again, wondering if he should resign from the Department of Mysteries. He missed seeing his family, and he was concerned by the rumours swirling through the sub-departments that Operations had something massive in the works.

In fact, Bode had been concerned for a long time - ever since Chief Umbridge had wormed into a position as Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office - and now she was Minister and ran the entire DMLE as well as the DoM. But there was nothing he could do about it. He was just a lowly technician, and Operations ran everything.

All he could do was keep his head down and follow orders. Bode couldn’t speak of what occurred in the Department of Mysteries without risking arrest himself.

Bode finished cataloguing and storing the latest magical artifact confiscated after being found in Muggle possession when he heard a shout. He looked up to see Yaxley scowling at him from the doorway. Bode sighed; he wasn’t sure who he hated most - Head of DoM Security Yaxley, or Yaxley’s immediate superior, Deputy Head of the Unspeakable Office Rookwood.

“Look alive,” snapped Yaxley. “We have a possible breach in the Atrium...”

“What?” gasped Bode, “But who would be mad enough to break into the Ministry...?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out!” growled Yaxley. “Now shut it and get a move on...”

“Wait...” Bode gulped in trepidation, “I’m just a Magical Artifact Storage tech - I’m not Security...”

“You are now...” Yaxley snarled. “Hurry up or I’ll kill you myself.”

**~o0o~**

Screams rent the air and the sound of shattering glass and small explosions filled Diagon Alley in the darkening evening as wizards and witches finished shopping for the day and store-keepers began closing procedures. Florean Fortescue shoved the last of his customers through the floo in his office and turned back to face the hooligans rampaging through his Ice Cream shop shooting curses from their wands.

Florean swore when he spotted that he had missed one of his customers lying sprawled on the floor. Dead or alive, he didn’t know. Angrily, Florean fired hexes and curses back at the Snatchers.

He dropped two of them with stunning spells, but when one fired a killing curse and missed, Florean retaliated with a concussive spell that slammed the Snatcher heavily into a brick wall with a sickening crack. The Snatcher screamed in pain and collapsed in a broken heap. Florean magically bound the other two prone Snatchers and stepped over them.

Florean breathed a sigh of relief; he could still feel his customer’s pulse. Steeling himself, Florean carefully peered out of his door to see if there was anyone else he could save. His face fell when he saw through the haze two people lying in the street who were clearly dead.

Further down Diagon Alley, Fenrir Greyback roared in fury. Ollivander’s shop was empty - there were no wands and no wand-dealer to be found. And if the shop had moved, there was no indication of its new location; Ollivander had left no clues.

It was never good to disappoint the Dark Lord - Ollivander must be found. Seething with rage, Greyback set the place ablaze with a Firestorm Spell and disapparated.

**~o0o~**

Bode’s face went white, but Yaxley was unmoved by the sight of a security guard’s body dangling by the neck in the Atrium of the Ministry as the gore from guard’s disemboweled midsection oozed and dripped to the floor. The sentry had clearly been the victim of an Entrail Expelling Curse.

It was too quiet. Standing by the fountain, Yaxley set his jaw and peered around the Atrium. He heard a sudden noise behind him and whirled around too late as an Incarcerus spell bound him from head to foot. Bode collapsed lifeless to the floor, dropped by a Killing Curse.

Bellatrix cackled as she cast a Petrificus Totalus on Yaxley and the ropes of the Incarcerus vanished.

“Those will just get in the way,” the witch said with a lustful gleam in her eyes. She reached into her cloak and pulled out her ceremonial dagger as she knelt beside Rookwood.

“No curses for you Corban,” purred Bellatrix, drawing a line of red with her dagger across the exposed skin of Yaxley’s forearm, “No, that would be too quick and easy! I think I’ll draw this out slowly - the old-fashioned way...”

Bellatrix giggled madly as she slit another thin red line across Yaxley’s forearm, forming an X through his Dark Mark. If Yaxley could have screamed, he would have as the knife came down again, this time aimed at his gut.

_~o0o~_

Hundreds of fans watching the football match at the Old Trafford stadium in Manchester were taken aback when all the lights and television-cameras went out, and those with mobile-phones lost their signals. An explosion ripped through the field and a number of muggles fainted as giants tore through the walls and stands.

Snatchers began dropping panicked muggle spectators like flies with curses and stunners, and disapparating with several victims at a time or transporting them via Portkeys. Two dozen Dementors swarmed and began sucking out souls at random.

Lockhart was more careful in choosing his victims, using a discerning eye to locate young muggle girls for himself and Wormtail as he moved through the shrieking and gradually diminishing crowd.

When it was over, nearly a hundred lay strewn in the rubble and many were left behind alive, still screaming amid the smouldering ruins of the stadium. Maximum terror had been inflicted, and numerous muggles had been captured or killed and taken to be turned into the Dark Lord’s Army of the Dead.

**~o0o~**

By the time the Minister had flooed back to the Ministry from her home, reporters from the _Daily Prophet_ , the _Quibbler_ , and the _International Wizard News Agency_ were already taking pictures from behind the taped perimeter around the dangling mutilated corpses of Yaxley, Bode, and several Security wizards.

The WNN was doing a live radio report, and a glowing green cloud in the shape of a skull and serpent hovered just above the bodies.

There would be no mistaking the hand of Voldemort for the work of a petty thief by the Press this time. Rufus Scrimgeour and numerous Aurors were scouring the area for magical and not so magical evidence, and he gave the Minister the rest of the bad news when she arrived.

“I have fifty Aurors and a Magical Clean-Up squad already in Manchester,” Scrimgeour scowled at the Minister. “We had to move quickly to obliviate the memories of Giant Involvement from the muggle survivors. And I have another dozen Aurors in Diagon Alley. Florean Fortescue rescued a number of people and captured several Snatchers...”

“This is all clearly part of a coordinated assault by Voldemort’s forces!” the Chief Auror concluded.

“Indeed!” the Minister responded darkly. The wheels in Minister Dolores Umbridge’s mind began spinning, seeking ways to turn this disaster to her political advantage.

Fortunately Bode and Yaxley were no huge loss, and Security was expendable. Dolores nearly had the Wizengamot in the palm of her hand. If she had enough Snatchers to punish, and played her cards right, this could be the breakthrough Dolores needed to gain a majority on the Wizengamot.

“Very well Rufus,” Minister Umbridge nodded. “You seem to have everything well in hand, but please inform me once you have finished interrogating the Snatchers under Veritaserum, and then turn them over to the Department of Mysteries for further questioning.

“Excuse me, Minister?”

“People only reveal what they _believe_ to be the truth under Veritaserum, and memories can be tampered with - sometimes we must dig much deeper, Rufus. The DoM has the magical means to go deeper - but it is highly top secret of course...”

The Head Auror regarded the Minister shrewdly for a moment before responding with a nod.

“Yes Madam, I understand!”

**~o0o~**

“My goodness gracious me!” Garrick Ollivander exclaimed, his features crestfallen as he read the morning edition of the _Daily Prophet_. “You were absolutely correct Headmaster Dumbledore...”

“Please Garrick, we are all friends here. Call me Albus.”

“Oh...er, indeed sir; Albus it is then. In any case, I cannot thank you enough Albus! I do not know how you managed to foresee the necessity for my relocation, but you were quite right. It appears that my shop was especially targeted by the Dark Lord’s followers for complete obliteration...”

“And you would no doubt be one of Voldemort's ‘guests’ by now, Garrick,” McGonagall proffered grimly. “Though I am as intrigued as you are by Albus’s remarkable prescience. How did you know Albus?”

“Voldemort will seek every advantage in this fight,” Dumbledore replied. “Like the Minister and ourselves, he faces battle on two fronts. It seemed highly likely to me that he would seek to control Britain’s preeminent supplier of wands...”

“And I confess, I believed that Voldemort would have sought out Garrick’s expertise in wandlore should Tom have run into any issues if he were to face Harry Potter’s wand - their wands each contain the same core: a phoenix feather from Fawkes. I felt preventing him from obtaining that knowledge was of utmost importance.”

“Ah, but of course. That sounds quite... logical!” Ollivander’s gleaming eyes widened. “But not having faced young Mr Potter since his return yet, the Dark Lord still does not know that their wands share a core. So you are suggesting that this was purely a tactical ploy on his part then - quite ingenious of you I must say, Albus.”

Dumbledore took a sip of tea before replying sadly with a shake of his head.

“No, just the terrible Logic of War, Garrick,” the headmaster responded. “He - or she - who controls the supply of weapons in a war has a great advantage - and wands are weapons after all...”

Garrick Ollivander regarded the headmaster of Hogwarts cannily, taking a sip of tea himself.

“Yes - well, regardless, my dear fellow, you undoubtedly saved me from torture and eventual death...”

“Let us hope so,” Dumbledore interjected, “Voldemort’s next target may be Hogwarts itself - but I believe we shall have the advantage should that be the case... no matter what sort of force he manages to muster.

“I must also confess Garrick, that was another reason I had for cajoling you away from your Diagon Alley location. As you had been so kind as to do a ‘House-Call’ for Hogwarts’ newest student, you know that we have remained for the summer to protect Hogwarts from capture, and you know that Mr Potter is among us,”

“It would not have done for Voldemort to have discovered yet that Hogwarts is currently inhabited. The longer I can maintain that element of surprise, the greater advantage we have!” concluded Dumbledore.

“Thank you,” Ollivander said quietly, peering keenly into Dumbledore’s unguarded eyes. “I appreciate your frankness Albus - that makes this decision much easier. I shall do anything which is within my power to do to aid in the protection of Mr Potter. He and his wife must survive - I expect great things to come from the both of them... If I may be so bold, I humbly offer my services to the Order of the Phoenix...”

**~o0o~**

“That’s the wandmaker,” murmured Jennifer at breakfast. “I wonder what he’s doing here again?”

Hermione shook her head as she chewed a piece of bacon. She had no idea why Ollivander was sitting at the Staff Table with Professor McGonagall and the headmaster. Harry’s brows knitted pensively.

“I dunno... maybe Ollivander is joining the Order. Maybe Dumbledore offered him protection. It’s probably a good idea to keep Britain’s top wandmaker out of enemy hands...” Harry suggested.

“Oh!” gasped Hermione. “Of course Harry. That’s very logical...”

“It does make a load of sense,” responded Dora with a nod before taking a bite of scrambled egg.

Hedwig dropped the _Daily Prophet_ and the _Quibbler_ on the table next to Fleur before settling on Harry’s shoulder and nipping his ear fondly. Harry grinned and reached a hand back to stroke her feathers, passing her a sausage with his other hand.

Fleur’s eyes widened in surprise as she read the headline of the _Quibbler_.

“Eet is a good thing zat Ollivander ees here,” Fleur gasped. “I think you are correct ‘Arry, look at ze paper...”

Harry was shocked at how close to the mark he had been; he swallowed in trepidation and passed the papers around.

“Looks like Ollivander left in the nick of time,” said Ginny as she read over Luna’s shoulder.

“Right... I suppose this was inevitable,” sighed Harry, “But as horrible as this is, we need to try and not dwell on it. We need to remember why we’re here. That’s what we need to focus on if we hope to have a chance of defeating Voldemort...”


	46. Looking Glass Chessboard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more explicit version is now available in _Moments in Love: The Steamy Version._

A fluttering of wings caught the lunchers at the Mingling Table by surprise. An owl which Harry didn’t recognise dropped something off for Dumbledore at the staff-table before depositing a large envelope in front of him while he was in mid-bite.

“Bit late aren’t you?” he chuckled, giving the obviously tired bird a kipper.

“Who’s it from?” asked Hermione as the others looked on with interest.

“It’s from Moody,” Harry replied, his eyebrows perking in surprise. “He’s been watching the BBC and reading the muggle papers, and they say that the Muggle Prime Minister is blaming the Old Trafford Stadium attack on a recalcitrant faction of the IRA trying to blow up the peace process, and... and,” Harry gasped, “...and _**Sirius Black?”**_

Hermione nearly snorted her tea out through her nose. Everyone else at the table looked stunned, except for Jennifer who just looked puzzled as she wasn’t sure who Sirius Black was.

“Bloody Fucking Hell!” Harry swore angrily. “They’re claiming that Sirius is a dangerous criminal with ties to international terrorists.”

 _ **“What?**_ ... but how... why?” sputtered Dora. “That doesn’t make any bloody sense...”

“It might,” said Hermione, frowning thoughtfully. “Sirius told us that he’s been avoiding being seen in public because of his association with Remus. And don’t forget, Sirius was targeted in the muggle press before as a criminal in our third year when everyone still thought he was a mass murderer.

“What if Minister Umbridge told the Muggle Prime Minister about Sirius because she knows he’s your godfather Harry? What if they’re colluding? I think she might be trying to undermine your support system...”

Harry nodded as he continued to read Moody’s letter. “Yeah... I’d say you’re right Hermione, Moody seems to think this proves that Minister Umbridge and the muggle PM are in cahoots too... And he says that I should avoid being seen in the muggle world because he thinks that the Minister may have also informed the PM that I’m Sirius’s godson...”

“A conclusion with which I quite agree,” said Dumbledore, causing everyone at the Mingling Table to lurch in their seats. They had been so preoccupied that they hadn’t seen the headmaster approaching. 

“I too have just received a communication from Alastor informing me of this alarming turn of events,” Dumbledore continued. “I believe that it would be wise to follow Alastor’s advice Harry. It would be best for you not to be seen in public... 

_“However,_ if it should be at all necessary for you to walk for a time in the non-magic world, I trust that your... _special talents_ shall keep you unnoticed,” Dumbledore concluded with a wink before strolling back to the staff-table.

“Special talents?” asked Jennifer. And she wasn’t the only one who looked bewildered. Only Dora seemed to know what Dumbledore was on about.

“Er...” said Harry, suddenly feeling a bit guilty with all eyes upon him. It occurred to Hermione that Harry might be feeling badly about not telling their friends about his rare ability. 

“Harry’s a metamorphmagus,” Hermione said quietly.

“Like me...” Dora added.

“He is?” Ginny gasped. “Really?”

“Er... yeah,” said Harry. “It was supposed to be a secret. But you’re our friends and I suppose I could’ve told you. Sorry I didn’t let you all in on it...”

“It’s alright Harry. You don’t have to apologise,” said Luna. “Of course it’s something you’d want to keep secret. If too many people know, even your friends, someone might let something slip accidentally.” 

“Er... what is a metamorphmagus?” asked Jennifer, still looking puzzled.

“Someone who can alter their appearance to look like someone else at will, without the use of a wand,” Hermione answered. “Only someone born with the ability can do it without a wand...”

After lunch Hermione took Harry aside and spoke quietly to him, a big grin on her face.

“Speaking of being a metamorphmagus,” she said, “I think it’s time for a proper ‘first date’ with Harriet tonight.” 

“Oh... er... yeah, alright,” said Harry, blushing and grinning back at Hermione. “I’ve been looking forward to this for a while - I’ve always... er... I dunno... I guess I always wanted to experience what it was like to be a girl - at least sometimes anyway...” he muttered, peering around to make sure no-one was listening and turning even redder. “I’m not sure why really...”

“I know,” said Hermione. “I finally understood why you were so interested after you read that Oz book to me. Well, you’ll definitely get to find out tonight.” Hermione smirked and leaned in close for a giggly whisper in Harry’s ear. “And I have a little surprise for you - I ordered a... er... well, I ordered a toy to play with...”

Harry’s jaw dropped in immediate understanding and he swallowed nervously; he hadn’t even considered that. Harry couldn’t stop thinking about it the rest of the afternoon and all through dinner. He couldn’t concentrate and fidgeted the entire time he was supposed to be helping Hermione tutor Jennifer, and his palms kept sweating.

After dinner Harry said goodnight to their friends rather absentmindedly and nearly tripped over his own feet as he departed the Great Hall with Hermione.

Harry stared at himself in the bathroom mirror while he cleaned his teeth and wondered what the hell he was doing. He felt as anxious as if he really were going on a first date. He had no idea what he was supposed to do.

Should he morph now or after joining Hermione in bed? Put on makeup? What was he supposed to wear? Pyjamas? Nothing?

Sighing, Harry undressed and reached for his pyjamas only to discover that they were gone. In their place was a nightgown, a sheer slip, and a pair of silky white knickers. He shook his head and chortled. At least now he knew what Hermione expected.

Harry looked at his body in the mirror and began to morph. His jaw diminished and his face rounded, lips puffing and pouting slightly. The only feature on his now heart-shaped face which remained wholly unaltered were his eyes. His hair lengthened until it curled over his shoulders and his black fringe flopped in his face. Harry flicked his now long fringe back and continued.

His entire form slimmed and curved until there wasn’t a single sharp angle on his body. Harry peered between his legs swallowing anxiously and completed the transformation. It still felt really weird to watch his dangly bits shrink into his body and see girly bits form. At this point she was Harriet, she reminded herself. 

Finally satisfied that everything was right - that she was now completely feminine and presentable - Harriet slipped into the nightclothes Hermione had left for her. She tingled at the sensation of the silky fabric clinging to her skin. Harriet took a deep breath to steady herself, and exited the bathroom.

“You’re beautiful!” Hermione gasped when Harriet entered the bedroom. On the previous occasion when Harry had completely transformed into a girl, she had looked much like Hermione as Hermione had been Harry’s model.

“Th...thanks,” Harriet stammered nervously.

Hermione took Harriet’s glasses off so that she could get the complete effect.

“Gorgeous Harry... I mean Harriet. You can put your glasses back on again in a minute. I just want to see all of you without them for a bit. Here let me help you...”

Harriet got goosebumps when Hermione helped her slip out of the long nightgown. She gasped with a thrill of pleasure when Hermione copped a feel.

“Oh, they’re the same size as mine Harriet!” Hermione gasped again, melting into Harriet’s green eyes. “You really meant it when you said you thought I was perfect...”

“Of course I did Hermione!” squeaked Harriet.

“But mine aren’t very big,” Hermione replied mournfully.

“I love them,” Harriet responded earnestly, “...They fit in my hands perfectly. I know they’ve grown a bit, but so have my hands...”

Hermione purred and threw her arms around Harriet, giving her a big kiss. Feeling Hermione pressed against her, inhaling her calming minty scent, Harriet relaxed.

“How did you change your voice?” Hermione asked after separating her lips from Harriet’s. “I mean, I can tell it’s still you, but it’s in the right register, and I can tell you’re not putting it on...”

“I...er... I’m not sure really. I didn’t try to on purpose. I... I think my vocal cords just shrank slightly when I was adjusting my neck to look like a girl’s.”

“Hmmm... that makes sense,” Hermione trailed her fingers along Harriet’s delicately sculpted throat, “It must have altered when the muscles changed shape.” Hermione replaced her fingers with her lips; Harriet trembled slightly and her heart began to race.

“This really is amazing Harriet...” Hermione murmured, “all the little details are perfect - even better than last time.”

“Because I had the perfect model Hermione,” Harriet whispered as she put her hands around Hermione’s waist and began tenderly returning Hermione’s kisses. Hermione melted again as she pulled Harriet onto the bed.

New sensations tingled in Harriet’s body, as Hermione slid her hands across Harriet’s taut, smooth abdomen, and drew her fingers across trembling skin. Tentatively at first, Hermione's touch roamed Harriet's figure as she gained more confidence and felt Harriet responding.

Harriet shuddered, a ripple of pleasure sweeping through her from head to toe at Hermione's ministrations. She was many times more sensitive than she recalled ever being before. As the waves of euphoria crested, Harriet squealed and arched ecstatically.

“Mmmm... you’re much more vocal as a girl Harriet,” giggled Hermione. 

“I... I never realised...” gasped Harriet, still in the throes of passion, “...so sensitive...”

When the fog of ardour in Harriet’s brain cleared somewhat, she saw that Hermione had stripped off her own chemise and knickers. Hermione straddled Harriet’s waist, and with a gleam in her eyes she gestured towards the toy she had bought.

Harriet’s eyes widened and she gulped, shivering slightly in anticipation. 

“Are you ready for this Harriet?” Hermione asked, her eyes softening with concern. She needn’t have worried. Harriet grinned.

“Be gentle Hermione... it’s my First Time!”

“Prat!” Hermione stuck her tongue out and swatted Harriet playfully, giggling.

Harriet was utterly blown away by the rapturous sensations engulfing her as Hermione built up a steady rhythm. She wrapped her legs and arms around Hermione’s backside and undulated beneath her. Another wave of elation surged and the magic crackled and arced from the squirming pair of naked witches. The bed rocked and the walls of the Potters’ bedchamber shook as the tempest of bliss took them both, the room echoing with the sounds of ecstasy.

As the storm of delight ebbed, Hermione peppered Harriet with little kisses.

“Well?” said Hermione, grinning. “What do you think? Was it as nice as you expected?” 

“That was fantastic Hermione!” Harriet gushed, her green eyes shining gleefully. “What about you...? Technically it was your first time with a girl too...”

“It was lovely!” Hermione bit her lip, fluttering her lashes, her cheeks turning pink. “You’re so pretty as a girl - you felt so nice... and... and it was fun pretending to be the ‘boy’...”

“Brilliant!” said Harriet. “Let’s have another go then shall we?”

“Only if I get to be the girl again after...” Hermione giggled.

**~o0o~**

Summer seemed to be flying by. Snape appeared to be pleased with the Potters’ progress in Advanced Potions (though as usual, it was hard from his expressions to be entirely certain). Training and practice in the Room of Requirement with the others was going well, and Jennifer was exceeding everyone’s expectations.

All the professors were doing their utmost to help Jennifer catch up enough to be placed among the fifth year students at the start of term. Even Lupin had taken up his role as professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts to help her advance as quickly as possible.

Although it was clear that she didn’t have time to learn four years worth of magical theory, and four years of Potions or Herbology, Jennifer’s spellwork was exceptional. She was already learning second year spells by the time Harry and Neville’s birthday arrived, and nobody doubted that she would at the very least be able to perform most of the spells required for beginning fifth year students. 

Sirius and Remus insisted on throwing a birthday party for Harry and Neville in the Shrieking Shack, and it was being catered by Dobby and the other house-elves. On the way to the Whomping Willow, Jennifer chatted about some of her latest schoolwork.

“I still can’t believe that things like Mummies, Vampires and Werewolves are real,” said Jennifer, a little shiver running up her spine.

“They’re just like other people really. They aren’t all evil,” Hermione reassured Jennifer. “At least not all Werewolves and Vampires are - I don’t really know about Mummies. Professor Lupin is a Werewolf.”

“Really?” Jennifer’s eyes widened. “He’s so kind - I never would have guessed.”

“Yeah... Remus... er... Professor Lupin’s really nice,” Harry nodded. “He was one of my dad’s best friends - he and Sirius both were...” Harry couldn’t help feeling a flare of anger as he thought about Wormtail again, but he did his best to put it aside and just enjoy the celebration.

Soon the party was underway. Everyone had butterbeers in hand or set on the table next to plates of hors d’oeuvres and bottles of Elf-wine. Neville was beaming, thrilled to have a cake with his own name on it sitting next to Harry’s. 

Dora had brought her acoustic guitar, and Jennifer joined in on the old piano in the sitting room of the Shack after Lupin used a magic spell to tune it up. Everybody danced when Dora and Jennifer played a few bouncy tunes. Then a record player was turned on; Fleur and Dora continued dancing for a bit while Luna and Ginny snogged in a corner and Neville and Viktor took turns dancing with Jennifer.

Harry and Hermione took a breather and joined Remus and Sirius in comfy seats at the edge of the room. Sirius took a large swig from a crystal goblet full of wine before grinning at Harry.

“Well Harry, looks like I’m a mass-murdering fugitive again,” he chuckled tipsily. “I just can’t seem to shake my reputation.”

“Of course, being a known associate of a fugitive Werewolf probably didn’t help matters,” said Remus half-jokingly with a wry smile.

“According to Moody it’s probably my fault for being your godson,” Harry muttered darkly. “The Prime Minister’s only going after you because of me...”

“Don’t be silly Harry,” said Hermione sharply, frowning at Sirius. “Moody didn’t say anything of the sort. It’s not your fault at all.”

“Hermione’s right, Harry,” said Remus. “The blame is not yours to bear. The Minister is just trying to rattle all of our cages...”

“That hag would out Dumbledore to the muggle media too, if she thought she could get away with it,” Sirius added. “The only reason she probably hasn’t is because it would raise too many eyebrows at the ICW... The Minister wouldn’t want to be called to account by an International Tribunal for violating the Statute of Secrecy...”

“Thank goodness for small favours!” sighed Remus. “Anyway Sirius, lets not dwell on that. This is supposed to be a party.”

“Quite right Remus!” Sirius looked crestfallen when he realised what he’d done. He peered apologetically at Hermione and Harry. “I’m sorry Harry... I shouldn’t have even mentioned it. Come on then... time for presents...” 

When the party was over, everyone helped Harry and Neville carry their presents back to the castle. Two others were quite surprised to have received presents of their own.

“Thanks for the broom Harry!” gushed Jennifer tearily, giving him a hug. “I’ll pay you back when I get a chance to transfer some of my inheritance to a wizard bank...”

“No, please,” interjected Harry, blushing. “It’s a present...”

“Cheers Harry!” said Dora, looking more than a bit teary herself as she carried her own brand spanking new Firebolt. “Really, you shouldn’ ‘ave... these must‘ve cost a fortune.”

“And _**we’re**_ supposed to give you presents for your birthday, not the other way around,” Jennifer responded. “You should have told me your birthday was coming...”

“It’s alright... really! I’ve got way more than I need already,” retorted Harry, his blush deepening. “Sirius’s family was filthy rich, and he just up and gave me a whole vault - and I’ve already got a vault of my own. I just want to share what I have with people I care about.”

Jennifer bit her lip, not sure what else to say, once again feeling a bit overwhelmed that people she’d only known a few weeks actually cared enough about her to treat her like family. 

After dinner, Hermione helped Jennifer study for a Charms exam. Then Jennifer spent some time perusing magazines and catalogues with Luna and Ginny, Fleur and Dora.

“I can’t believe it. Do wizards really dress like this every day?” Jennifer giggled when Ginny showed her a British wizard-wear catalogue.

“Mostly only older wizards and witches,” snorted Ginny. “Even my mum and dad wear robes at home, but they both dress like muggles a lot - especially Dad, because Ministry employees are usually around muggles all the time. Most younger wizards - except for a few Purebloods - tend to follow modern muggle fashion trends...”

“My daddy only wears robes unless he absolutely has to change,” said Luna with an amused look. “You should see some of the silly outfits he wears when he has to be around muggles to follow a story for his paper.”

“Ze Continental wizard world, it ees much more with ze times,” tittered Fleur, passing Jennifer a French magazine full of alluring men and women in sleek, elegant clothes which Jennifer could easily imagine seeing in posh muggle nightclubs.

“I can’t picture my mum and dad in anything but muggle clothes,” said Dora, peering at the French magazine with great interest. “Mum gave up wizard clothes when she married my dad apparently. They only wear robes for formal events.”

Nearby, Hermione was sitting on Harry’s lap with her arms around him as they read _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ together. She had bought Harry a complete set of _The Chronicles of Narnia_ with full colour illustrations for his birthday.

“Thanks loads for this Hermione. I haven’t read these in ages,” said Harry, giving her a kiss, “And I’ll have to thank your mum for the set of Roald Dahl books. I only ever read _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_...”

Distracted by the sound of giggling, they looked up to see the others huddled around the magazines.

“That was really kind of you to order those brooms for Dora and Jennifer Harry,” Hermione beamed.

“Er... Yeah, I suppose,” said Harry awkwardly. “I just wanted to do something nice for them both. Dora’s family, and Jennifer... well... she deserves to be treated nicely - she doesn’t have anyone else but us now.

“Anyway, Jennifer needed her own broom - she's great at flying!” Harry suddenly grinned. “She took to it jolly quick after she got used to it riding with Luna...”

**~o0o~**

Harry peered closely and listened attentively as Hermione turned the page and pointed at the Chinese symbols next to the illustrations.

“...So...” Hermione continued from where she had left off, “these are some of the symbols which should provide the same physical protection as practicing Iron Shirt and Iron Skull techniques. They protect bones and internal organs from damage, and also supposedly prevent serious wounds from edged and piercing weapons.”

“I thought that sort of thing usually took years of practice,” said Harry.

“Yes... for muggles,” Hermione nodded in agreement. “But being wizards, we can use a shortcut, and get similar effects by tattooing these symbols on ourselves... It’s not perfect - they won’t make us completely invulnerable - we could still be injured if the Force behind a physical attack is strong enough. 

“I doubt they would protect us from bullets for example, but for most common circumstances they should protect us from serious injuries.”

“That’s brilliant Hermione!” Harry said excitedly. “It’s a shame I didn’t know about this in second year! Dobby’s rogue bludger wouldn’t have broken my arm.”

“I know... I was just thinking the same thing myself,” sighed Hermione. “Still, you had no idea that you’d be good at calligraphy in second year, and there’s no guarantee that you could have drawn them well enough to stop your arm from being broken back then.

“And in any case, these symbols aren’t at all common or even really known in European Wizarding usage Harry,” Hermione continued. “I expect that normally you would only learn them if you went to a Chinese wizarding school, or had a Chinese teacher. 

“We got very lucky to find this book, probably because when you asked the Room of Requirement to conjure up a place to practice fighting you envisioned the Kwoons and Dojos from some of the martial arts films that Sirius and Remus took us to see. It’s all your doing really, Harry,” Hermione concluded, beaming proudly at her husband.

**~o0o~**

Even from his dank dungeon cell, fetid water dripping from the rocky ceiling, he could hear the waves crashing against the craggy cliffs of the Scottish headlands. Cassius Nott sighed at the sound of freedom, so near, and yet so far away. But if anything could be said for his lack of freedom - and the torture that he had endured - it had at least given him the time and the motivation to rethink things.

During his time in captivity, Cassius had examined the wreckage of his life and found it wanting. He set his jaw in determination as he regarded his shivering son huddled in the corner. There were only two ways out: dead, or alive in the service of the Dark Lord. And Cassius knew he would do anything to see his son live - even if it meant his own death.

“Theo... Theo, listen to me...” 

His son looked up with sunken eyes at his father but said nothing.

“You know what I have to do...” said Cassius Nott. “What you must do if you wish to leave these walls... alive!”

A distraught expression crossed Theodore Nott’s features as he continued to eye his father.

“Please, Dad... don’t do it! He’ll kill you anyway sooner or later - you know he will. I don’t want you to leave me.”

“I have to do it...” Cassius replied. “...for you - for your mother. If I do this, and he accepts me, the Dark Lord will give you a chance to prove yourself to him as well. 

“I just want you to promise me one thing... if you see an opportunity to get away, take it! ... Get your mother and run... run as far away as you can. And promise that you will do better than me if you survive...”

“Dad... _please_...” Theo interjected.

Cassius shook his head and went on, “This life we’ve led - everything I ever taught you... it means **_nothing!_** It’s brought us nothing but misery... and pain to those we’ve harmed - it’s a dead end! What bloody use is blood purity... or great wealth if we fritter it away on selfish acts? Dumbledore is right... he’s always been right!

“It’s too late for me... I’ve done too many horrible things - unspeakable things - and I might have to do some more if the Dark Lord will take me back. But you... you still have a chance for a better future if you can stay alive. Promise me that you’ll stay alive and do better... _Promise me!”_

Theo hesitated, tears running down his cheeks. He swallowed and slowly nodded. “Al...alright Dad. I will... I’ll do better... I swear!”

“Good... That’s good then. They’ll be coming for me in a moment... Just sit tight, and whenever you get your chance, you go!” 

The approaching sound of footsteps and jangling keys echoed in the dungeon passage beyond the iron bars of the cell. A tall wizard, his chiseled features framed by grizzled hair and stubble, halted and peered through the bars. Theo shrank back when Rabastan Lestrange’s glacial gaze settled upon him. Those frozen eyes returned to Cassius.

“Nott... On your feet.” Rabastan’s voice was as icy as his demeanor. “The Dark Lord deigns to hear your pleas.”

Theo tried to stifle his sobs as his father was hauled out of the cell and led away through the dungeon halls, certain that he’d never see him again. 

“I promise Dad...” he muttered to himself between sobs. “I’ll be a better person... I promise...”

Cassius Nott was roughly shoved through the entrance of one of the refurbished castle’s large halls and thrown to the ground in front of the Dark Lord. The seat which held Voldemort was probably the most opulent chair in the ancient muggle residence, an intricately carved mahogany armchair befitting a lord. It had clearly been chosen to be the Dark Lord’s “throne.”

To one side of Voldemort stood Wormtail, and to the other, Bellatrix Lestrange. A small number of Death Eaters - most of them liberated when Voldemort had taken Azkaban - stood at attention in short rows on either side of Nott. With glinting red eyes, the Dark Lord looked down upon Nott from where he sat.

“Speak your piece, Cassius,” said Bellatrix, her voice razor sharp. “Tell us why you believe you deserve a reprieve from the Dark Lord’s righteous wrath.”

Cassius Nott swallowed nervously, steeling himself to make his case, and addressed Voldemort directly. “I... I was wrong to support Minister Umbridge. I know now that you are the only one who truly deserves my fealty. I beg your forgiveness my Lord, and ask to be reinstated as one of your soldiers.”

“But how can the Dark Lord trust you Cassius?” Bellatrix narrowed her eyes in suspicion at the wizard prostrating himself before Voldemort. “How do you intend to prove your worth after your betrayal?” 

“I... I’ll do anything... anything you ask of me my Lord!” Cassius replied. _“Anything_... Just give me one task. And if... if I fail... my life is yours.”

The Dark Lord shifted slightly in his seat, his red slitted eyes piercing Nott’s. To everyone’s surprise, a thin smile crept to the Dark Lord’s lips.

“Yesss!” hissed Voldemort. “You will indeed, won’t you! You will do anything as long as I let your son live...” said the Dark Lord, his high, cold voice devoid of mirth, belying the sarcastic smile on his face. “Tut tut, it would appear that your true loyalty extends only to your family... How Noble of you Cassius!

“No matter... As long as your boy is in my possession, you will obey my every command. Very well... _Nott,_ I do have a task for you. You will serve me as a Snatcher, and I shall have your son as a foot-soldier as well. 

“Rabastan will oversee your first mission... and should you disappoint me again, he will return with your dead body as an example to your son of the price of disloyalty and failure...”

**~o0o~**

Nearly a week had passed since Harry’s birthday. When Hermione returned from the library one afternoon, she found him sitting in their quarters in front of the mirror, shirtless. Her breath caught as she eyed his chiseled torso, wondering if Harry was preparing for a bit of fun. Harry looked around when he heard Hermione entering the room.

“What are you doing Harry?” Hermione asked eagerly with a golden flash in her eyes. “Something I can help you with perhaps?”

“Actually... yeah!” Harry grinned, knowing what Hermione was thinking. “I think I’m ready to test out these Chinese symbols now...” Harry waved one of his ink-brushes at Hermione and raised his eyebrows, smirking.

“Oh!” said Hermione, almost sounding disappointed. But she recovered herself quickly and began unbuttoning her blouse. 

Harry looked puzzled for a moment, wondering what Hermione was up to as he had made his intentions quite plain. Hermione caught his questioning look.

“You _**were**_ planning to use me as a guinea pig for the Chinese tattoos, weren’t you?” Hermione responded breezily to Harry’s expression.

“Oh... er... Yeah - of course!” Harry reddened and reached for his bottle of ink.

In fact Harry hadn’t been planning anything of the sort. He had been planning on tattooing himself and having Hermione throw things at him and try to knock him out. But he had learned not to refuse Hermione anything when she had that determined gleam in her eyes.

Harry started by painting the symbols on himself while Hermione waited patiently for her turn. He had to steel his nerves to ink Hermione; he had discovered before the Third Task that it required all of his concentration to focus on the runes and symbols and ignore the distraction of her enticing figure.

“Mmm...” Hermione purred a bit and quivered at the delightful sensation of Harry’s ink-brushes dancing across her skin. Harry smiled to himself, unable to entirely block out the intoxicating effects of Hermione’s unclothed presence

It had taken some time before Harry and Hermione managed to test the symbols, as they had both lingered over-long before dressing after the tattoo ink dried. But after Harry and Hermione concluded their playful little romp, they dressed and made their way to the Room of Requirement.

The Chinese symbols were a rousing success.

After some cajoling, Harry finally managed to convince Hermione to test his symbols first before he tried anything on her. First he had Hermione throw heavier and heavier objects at him with Banishing charms. Then, when he felt brave enough, Harry encouraged Hermione to use Bombardas of increasing intensity on statues very close to him - which Hermione finally did with great reluctance. 

Harry was thrilled with the efficacy of the symbols. Not only did every object which Hermione conjured and hurled at Harry bounce right off him with minimal pain - if any at all - but the symbols also appeared to protect him from the worst of the concussive effects of blasting spells as well.

But Hermione drew the line and refused point blank to try and cut him with one of the bladed weapons on the wall when Harry begged her to. Finally, when it was obvious that Hermione was having none of it, Harry took a dagger and placed it against the palm of his hand, swallowing nervously.

“Harry... don’t!” she moaned. “What if it goes wrong?”

“It won’t Hermione. I’m sure of it...”

Hermione winced and closed her eyes when Harry drew the blade across his palm. 

“Amazing!” Harry muttered, peering at the unbroken skin.

Hermione eyed Harry with great anxiety when he tentatively poked the knife at his ribs. Surely he wouldn’t dare. Hoping that Harry would be sensible and just give himself little jabs, Hermione braced herself. 

Gulping, Harry squeezed his eyes shut and plunged the dagger with all his might. Hermione screamed loud enough to wake the dead.

Harry grunted from the exertion and a pinching sensation, and the blade bent in half, leaving nothing but a single drop of blood oozing from a pinprick. The only real pain he felt was in his throbbing eardrums, still ringing with the echoes of Hermione’s shriek of terror.

Hermione glared at Harry angrily and stormed out of the Room of Requirement.

She gave Harry the silent treatment the rest of the afternoon, only grudgingly following him up to the Room of Requirement after dinner when it was time to meet the others. Hermione glowered at Harry the entire time while he painted the symbols on everyone else. 

One by one they all lifted their shirts and blouses, baring their midriffs for Harry’s ink-brushes. Not being ones for modesty, Fleur and Luna removed their tops completely, much to Neville’s dismay. Viktor chuckled when Neville turned beet red and averted his eyes. 

Dora just grinned, feeling a little tingle of excitement at the sight of her topless partner. Ginny and Jennifer both blushed furiously when it came time for each of them to lift their shirts.

“That tickles...” Ginny giggled as Harry delicately inked her belly.

“Oui, zat it does!” said Fleur with a dreamy smile, recalling the sensuous touch of Harry’s ink-brushes before the Third Task.

“Now remember,” Harry admonished when everyone was inked and dressed, “This is no substitute for a Shield Charm, but it should protect you from physical blows or a long fall even if you don’t have your wand and can’t cast a Protego or a cushioning charm in time...”

“Got it Harry,” Dora nodded earnestly.

“...and it’ll even protect you from getting stabbed or cut.” Harry continued, glancing guiltily at Hermione who was still angrily scowling at him at intervals.

“Prat!” Hermione muttered. But Hermione could never stay cross with Harry for too long, especially not when his face was as stricken with guilt as it was. “Don’t scare me like that _**ever**_ again!” she snapped.

“I’m _**really**_ sorry Hermione... you were looking right at me,” Harry responded, his green eyes as big as saucers. “I just thought it was obvious - I thought you... er... I thought you knew what I was going to do. I was terrified too...”

“I know...” Hermione sighed, finally deflating and looking at Harry sheepishly. “I’m sorry too Harry - I just wasn’t quite ready to watch you stab yourself with a knife - especially not without having Madam Pomfrey at-the-ready just in case... I didn’t think you were really going to do it... Not as vigorously as that anyway. I’m just thrilled these symbols work like they’re supposed to!”

“You and me both!” said Harry, still looking very apologetic.

“Wait... what are you doing Harry?” Hermione asked, her face flushing when Harry lifted her blouse a bit, exposing part of her abdomen. Neville gulped and looked the other way again.

“I’m just adding a couple of basic Norse Runes. I just reckoned we should practice with a full slate of Protection Runes and Symbols for the next few sessions. The tattoos won’t wear off...”

Finally everyone was inked and eager to practice being attacked after Harry and Hermione demonstrated the effectiveness of the symbols.

Unfortunately, nobody was eager to take up the role of the attacker. It was one thing to practice stunning spells on each other, and basic holds, joint-locks and throws - which they had all gradually become used to, but everyone was too afraid of hurting each other with strikes and blows if something went wrong.

Harry was as reluctant as anybody to clobber someone. He sighed, remembering how he himself had been berated by Mad Eye for being too soft on Hermione during training for the Triwizard Tournament.

Fleur attempted to cajole Dora into whacking her with a Beater’s Bat to get things going, but Dora was having none of it. She just couldn’t bring herself to thump Fleur. Dora still couldn’t get the horrifying picture out of her mind of Fleur lying in the Hospital Wing in agony with two broken legs after the Third Task.

Finally, Luna suggested a game of Rock-Parchment-Scissors; the loser would have to be the assailant. Luna lost. Groaning and wishing that she hadn’t suggested the game, Luna picked up the Beater’s bat, closed her eyes, and swung it at Fleur.

“C’est Magnifique!” exclaimed Fleur when the bat shattered against her arm. All she had felt was a sting as if she had been on the receiving end of a strong slap, and the bat lay in pieces on the floor.

“Oh thank goodness...” Luna opened her eyes and let out a huge sigh of relief.

“Merlin!” Dora’s jaw dropped.

“That’s incredible,” gasped Ginny, goggling in amazement as she examined the splinters of the bat.

“Yes it is,” Hermione agreed, “But we should still be careful... we can still be injured or even killed. This just makes it loads harder...”

In no time, everyone was giggling and having fun breaking Beater’s Bats over each other’s heads and using Banishing Charms to chuck heavy objects at each other with no ill effects except for a few red marks, and a couple of scratches. Dora and Fleur were even brave enough to have a little knife fight.

Only Jennifer had yet to join in. Hermione spied Jennifer trembling and nudged Harry who was watching the others and chortling.

“I’m sorry,” said Harry. “I didn’t think... If you want, you can sit this out. I know the symbols will work... and honestly, I’m not comfortable with all the violence either.”

“It’s alright,” Jennifer shook her head. “I want to join in... Really! I know I ought to for my own good. I just keep freezing up.”

“Oh, I know,” Hermione said, brightening, “Cheering Charms... we haven’t done any today Harry.”

“Of course,” Harry smacked his forehead. “We should have started out with that... saved ourselves a bit of time. I forgot.”

One Cheering Charm later and Jennifer was gleefully cracking Beater’s Bats across shins and ribs with the rest of them.

**~o0o~**

“Oh... well _**done,**_ Rufus! Well done indeed!” said Minister Umbridge in her breathiest, girliest voice. “This exceeds all expectations. However did you manage it?”

Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour hesitated momentarily, unmoved by the high praise, but he had to admit that the Aurors who had survived their encounter with Voldemort’s forces certainly deserved the accolades. They had managed to run down a small group of Voldemort’s Snatchers as they had attempted to burn down a Liverpool homeless shelter near St Luke’s Church Gardens and make off with its residents. 

Among the Snatchers had been Cassius Nott and Rabastan Lestrange. Nott was now in recovery at St Mungo’s, grateful for his rescue - and Lestrange was in a Ministry holding cell with the Snatchers after undergoing a Veritaserum interrogation. Finally Scrimgeour responded to the Minister’s query.

“I cannot take the credit Minister - that belongs to the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol and the Auror on-site in Liverpool... and no small amount of luck. The attack on the homeless shelter was witnessed by local Patrol and the Auror assigned to liaise with their Unit... They happened upon the Snatchers quite by chance. 

“The ensuing battle was fierce and the DMLE lost several of our finest,” Rufus sighed, “yet they still managed to subdue and apprehend the culprits.”

Minister Umbridge would have rubbed her hands together and cackled with glee, but she didn’t want to give Scrimgeour the wrong impression. 

“Well Rufus, please be sure to send the Ministry’s regards to the families of the fallen. Those who were lost must receive the highest honours. Now... do we have any actionable intelligence yet regarding the location of Voldemort?”

“Unfortunately no...” Scrimgeour sighed again. “Warlock Nott has no recollection of where he was being held. And despite the Veritaserum interrogations, I regret to inform you that Rabastan Lestrange and the Snatchers have been unable to provide any details regarding the current whereabouts of Voldemort... perhaps a secret keeping spell?”

Dolores calculated her options. It was a shame that the location of Voldemort’s base of operations continued to elude the Ministry, but that wasn’t particularly important for the moment. The most important thing was that Dolores now had a sizable number of hooligans to punish - including those which Mr Fortescue had captured during the Diagon Alley attack - and someone of note that she could haul before the Wizengamot. 

With Lestrange in hand, this was the moment which she had been waiting for - a decisive turn of affairs which would cement a majority on the Wizengamot. Minister Umbridge smiled sympathetically at Scrimgeour.

“Never mind that Rufus,” Dolores responded. “The Department of Mysteries shall take over from here. I have faith that the methods of the Unspeakable Office will yield some actionable information... and if we do indeed obtain anything of use, I shall inform you immediately so that we can bring the rest of these criminals to justice. In the meantime, again - Good Work!”

Head Auror Scrimgeour’s forehead creased in consternation as he watched the Minister depart his office through narrowed eyes, a sense of unease settling over him. He couldn’t put his finger on any one thing in particular, but doubts continued to niggle at the back of his mind.

**~o0o~**

His footsteps echoing through stone corridors and across marble halls, Wormtail anxiously scurried through the castle to the Dark Lord’s throne room, knowing that his Master would not be pleased. When Wormtail arrived, Voldemort scowled menacingly at him.

“What is the word Wormtail? What has become of Rabastan and the Snatchers?”

“My Lord,” Wormtail swallowed nervously, hoping that he would not be taken to account for Rabastan’s failures, “the Dark Witch has him, and the Snatchers who were with him. The word is that they have been turned over to the Department of Mysteries, and that Nott is once again in his Mistress’s hands, being cared for in St Mungo’s.”

“That is most unwelcome news.” Voldemort’s face darkened and his deadly gaze turned towards Bellatrix. “It is quite unfortunate that I cannot even rely upon those whom I had once counted as my most loyal Servants. I am wondering if the blame for Rabastan’s bumbling incompetence should be borne by him alone...”

“It matters little...” Bellatrix’s nostrils flared and she held her head high, pointedly looking in Rodolphus Lestrange’s direction. “Rabastan is not my blood, nor any longer my in-law,” she said haughtily, then with a shift of demeanor, speaking seductively she continued. 

“Am I not the Dark Lord’s Consort? My loyalties lie with you and you alone my Lord - I am no longer beholden to the House of Lestrange. But in any case, it is not Rodolphus’s fault that he shares Rabastan’s blood. He has served you well, and should be judged on his own merits. 

“Rabastan is undoubtedly already paying the price for his failures in the clutches of the Dark Witch. And Nott is no great loss - we already have what we need from him, and we have his son. And none who were taken were Secret Keeper...”

The Dark Lord carefully considered his Consort’s words. While they held much veracity, they belonged to someone of noteworthy guile, and the Dark Lord badly needed an outlet for the rage seething within. It took all of the Dark Lord’s effort not to strike everyone in the chamber dead; he would have to settle for killing some Snatchers in their stead.

“What of my Army of the Dead?” Voldemort hissed dangerously, trying to distract himself from his fury. “Where do our numbers stand?”

A smile crept to Bellatrix’s lips as she sensed the Dark Lord’s rage wavering. 

“We are nearing completion... _Master,”_ purred Bellatrix, batting her long dark lashes coquettishly. The Dark Lord began to relax. He knew that his Consort was just buttering him up, but he had to admit that it pleased him greatly when she called him ‘Master’ in such a subservient manner.

“Rabastan’s contribution to their numbers was minimal at best,” Bellatrix continued. She gestured towards the enormous television and library of video-tapes nearby. “And in any case, these muggle entertainments have given me an idea for a new breed of Inferi. With my latest modification, Inferi shall be able to pass on the Inferius Curse to the living through their bites... much as Werewolves pass on Lycanthropy.”

The Dark Lord’s features altered from an expression which promised danger, to one which indicated malevolent glee.

“Good, good...” Voldemort nodded, a poisonous smile crossing his features as he stroked his chin and contemplated the possibilities such magically endowed Inferi presented, “That will do nicely indeed...”

Wormtail quietly let out a sigh of relief. The Dark Lord had been treating him very well indeed for some time now, and Wormtail much preferred to keep it that way.

**~o0o~**

Senior Undersecretary Percy Weasley was working late into the evening in mid-August when the reports of new Inferi attacks began to roll in. The first report was from Nottingham, and an hour later another assault was reported from Stoke-On-Trent.

The Senior Undersecretary was hopeful that this could be dealt with relatively quickly and easily as both muggle locations were in Central England, but his hopes were dashed when another report came in from a Bristol suburb which was home to a small wizarding neighbourhood.

Percy began to resignedly scribble a memo to send directly to Minister Umbridge but was interrupted by a scowling, disheveled Rufus Scrimgeour at his door.

“Senior Undersecretary, if that is a message for the Minister, I have some news to add...”

“Good or bad?” Percy asked in a voice which he hoped didn’t betray the panic he felt.

“A bit of both. A number of muggles and two wizards are dead, but we managed to contain the situation in all three cities. We were fortunate in that the numbers of Inferi in the attacks were small - no more than half a dozen at each location... to begin with.”

“To begin with? I don’t take your meaning, Scrimgeour...” 

“Two of the muggles from the first attack.... they turned into Inferi within a half-hour of being mauled. Once we realised we were dealing with something new, I was forced to improvise a new protocol. All of the dead have been incinerated, not just the Inferi - muggle and wizard alike - just to be on the safe side.”

“The Clean-Up team certainly has their work cut out for them then...” Percy groaned. “This is terrible. I’m just glad we managed to contain this before it got out of hand. Thanks Scrimgeour. I’ll pass along the information to the Minister straight away.”

Rufus Scrimgeour nodded curtly and turned to leave. As he shut the door to the Deputy Minister’s office he overheard Percy Weasley muttering to himself. Rufus could just barely make out a few puzzling words of the Senior Undersecretary’s private rumination over the sound of the scratching quill, “...spin this... You-Know-Who or Dumbledore...?”

Rufus shook his head and wriggled a finger in his bad ear, wondering if he'd misheard.

**~o0o~**

The beginning of the school term was only a fortnight away. And when the _Daily Prophet's_ and the _Quibbler’s_ reports of muggle disappearances shifted to reports of random Inferi attacks the following morning, the headmaster of Hogwarts knew that an assault against Hogwarts by Voldemort’s forces was imminent.

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall exchanged dark looks, then glanced down the staff-table at several professors too busily engaged in conversation to have read the papers yet.

“I must say Remus, it is simply splendid to see you with a professorship at long last,” said Professor Slughorn proudly. “You deserve so much more...”

“Really Horace?” Professor Lupin raised his eyebrows with a bemused expression. “My professorship was short-lived, and I am only temporarily serving as such again for Miss Watts’ sake. In any case, I was dreadful in Potions... ”

“Nonsense my dear fellow,” Horace responded, twitching his bushy walrus moustache. “I have no doubt that you shall be reinstated when term begins - as long as Albus is in charge at Hogwarts, none can touch you here - and I am certain that you will permanently regain your post when the current regime at the Ministry is brought to an end. 

“As to Potions, you may not have been a match in Potions for Severus here...”

Professor Snape snorted and rolled his eyes, but Horace ignored him and soldiered on. 

“...or a match for Lily Evans, but your work was always excellent. I expected great things from you, despite your... erm... _condition_. You were among the few students of your year to graduate Hogwarts with Honours after all.”

“That’s very kind of you Horace,” Lupin flushed slightly. “But if Voldemort’s curse on the DADA position is true, then there is some question as to whether I will still be here when term begins - I managed to finish out Lockhart’s year, and complete one of my own. 

“Then Alastor took the position. But... well... we shall see soon enough I suppose. And I wouldn’t have been able to manage it at all if it weren’t for Severus’s Wolfsbane Potion. None can make it better than him,” Lupin concluded with a grateful glance at Snape.

Something almost like a smile flickered in Snape’s eyes, but he merely nodded curtly in response. Severus didn’t care for the personal direction of the conversation, and despite having gained a modicum of respect for one another, it wasn't as if he would ever be best mates with Remus Lupin or Sirius Black.

“Ah, that is another thing I have been meaning to discuss,” Slughorn carried on, paying no attention to Snape’s obvious discomfort, “I think it is simply marvelous that you two and Sirius Black have managed to put aside past enmities and buried the hatchet. However did that come about?”

Snape and Lupin regarded each other uncomfortably, then Severus sighed and raised his eyebrows.

“I had... an epiphany!” said Snape finally.

Horace was not to be put off so easily. He gazed shrewdly at Severus.

“And did this ‘epiphany’ have anything to do with Lily’s son?” Horace asked pointedly.

“I suppose... one might say that,” Severus stiffly replied.

Slughorn was about to press for the juicy details, but the headmaster thought this would be a good time to interrupt the conversation and come to Professor Snape’s rescue.

“Ahem...” Dumbledore passed the _Daily Prophet_ and the _Quibbler_ down the table, “have any of you seen the news this morning?”

Once he had everyone's attention, the headmaster began.

“I believe it is time. We must begin to make final preparations to secure the Castle immediately. I shall recall Kingsley, John, and Alastor - and as many members of the Order as we can spare to assist us in defending Hogwarts. However, I do not wish to leave the members of the school’s Board of Governors nor the publisher of the _Quibbler_ unguarded...”


	47. Storming the Castle

Hermione was still asleep in Harry’s arms when he woke shortly after six am. Harry ignored his itching scar which told him that Voldemort was up to something. For a while he just lay there, stroking Hermione’s hair, listening to the sound of Hermione’s gentle breathing and Crookshanks purring at the end of the bed. Hedwig had already departed to collect the morning papers from the newsagent in Hogsmeade. 

Harry’s thoughts ventured into territory that still unsettled him when he ruminated on his second “date” as Harriet with Hermione the night before. 

Harry wondered if there was a reason for some of the feelings that he’d had since as long as he could remember - feelings he’d never felt comfortable sharing with anyone until Hermione. Or maybe he really was a freak after all. He wished Hermione was awake to help him sort things out, but he didn't want to wake her just for his own sake, and it felt nice to just cuddle her while she was sleeping.

Finally Hermione stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. She yawned and blearily peered at her husband. As her eyes adjusted, Harry’s features came into focus. Hermione could tell from his lost expression that something was bothering him. 

“Penny for your thoughts, Harry?” she murmured. Harry started at the sound of her voice, not having noticed that she had woken up.

“Oh... er... erm...” The words stuck in Harry’s throat and he reddened. Hermione waited patiently for Harry to collect himself. Harry took a deep breath and tried again.

“I... er... I was just thinking... erm... I was wondering if there was something wrong with me, or if there was a good reason for... er...” Harry trailed off, not quite sure how to say it. 

Hermione’s brain whirred as she tried to work out what was making Harry uncomfortable. An idea began to form, but the hunch puzzled her, as she had thought that Harry had come to terms with it already.

“Is... is this about you liking to be a girl sometimes Harry?” Hermione asked tentatively. Harry nodded, relieved that Hermione had figured it out for herself.

“Yeah... I don’t really understand it Hermione. It... it’s not really just about having fun. I’ve always sort of had a feeling which comes and goes... that I’m a girl inside. Does that make me a freak?”

“Oh Harry,” said Hermione sympathetically, “Of course it doesn’t. There’s lots of people who feel that way. That’s why some people have gender reassignment surgery. They feel like they’re stuck in the wrong body.”

“That’s one of the weird things though, Hermione. It... it’s not all the time - I mean I like being a guy too... It’s just... it’s just sometimes. I don’t know if I’d have ever been totally happy being stuck in one gender or the other. I’m glad that I’m a metamorphmagus, it seems more normal to me - but part of me still wonders if I’m not - not normal I mean. I don’t really know if I’m meant to be a guy or a girl.

“Ever since I’ve met people who knew my parents, they all seem to go on about me having my mum’s eyes. D’you think that might have something to do with it?”

“Hmm...” Hermione bit her lip and considered Harry’s question. “I’m not sure Harry. It might actually. Some people think that the eyes are the Window to the Soul. If that’s true, it might mean that you have a female soul. 

“But you also have some of your father’s biological traits - you do look a lot like him other than your eyes, and you also have his talent for quidditch, and maybe other things. So that may explain why you feel like you could be both... 

“It’s also quite possible that it’s something common to metamorphmaguses. Though, considering that Dora is perfectly happy being a girl who likes other girls, it might not be....” 

“Hunh...” As Harry thought about what Hermione had just said, one explanation seemed to feel more right than the other. “Yeah... I think you’re onto something Hermione - the bit about having a female soul... but also having a strong biological connection to my dad. 

“The more I think about, I think that’s it.” Harry’s features brightened and he felt a wave of relief. He leaned his head in for a kiss. “Thanks loads Hermione. I feel much better now...”

After showering and dressing, Harry and Hermione made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast and took their usual seats among the others at the Mingling Table. It wasn’t long before Hedwig arrived with the morning editions of the _Daily Prophet_ and the _Quibbler_.

Harry’s stomach clenched when he read the ominous headlines regarding a number of Inferi attacks around Britain. He heard Hermione gasp in horror as she read over his shoulder and turned his head to share a dark look with her. 

“What’s going on?” asked Ginny when she saw the looks that Harry and Hermione were sharing. 

“More Inferi attacks,” Harry muttered, holding up the papers so that everyone else could see the headlines. There were shocked looks and gasps all around. Harry glanced up at the staff-table and spotted the professors grimly conferring. 

The headmaster stood up, apparently having concluded the conference, and strode across the Great Hall, obviously intending to speak to those seated at the Mingling Table. Everyone peered at Dumbledore expectantly as he approached.

“I take it that you have all read the morning papers?” said Dumbledore as he keenly regarded the expressions on the students’ faces. When everyone nodded and replied in the affirmative, Dumbledore spoke again.

“Very good!” he sighed. “It is my contention that these attacks are designed as a distraction for the Ministry while Voldemort makes his move to take Hogwarts, very likely as soon as tonight when evening falls. Plans and preparations by the Order are underway, and it behooves me to make arrangements with you as well...”

“Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione anxiously interjected. “I’ve just had a thought, what if Voldemort uses the secret passages to get in?”

Dumbledore looked troubled for a moment.

“Thank you for reminding me Mrs Potter,” Dumbledore replied after a moment. “Yes, that is definitely a possibility. I will be certain to block any of the tunnels which we know about...”

“Er... what do you mean by ‘which we know about?’” asked Harry. “Wouldn’t the Marauders’ map have all of them?”

“That is not very likely,” Dumbledore replied with a shake of his head. “Your map would only contain the secret passages known to those who created the map - your father, Sirius, Professor Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. There are undoubtedly more passages which we are unaware of, but which may have come to the attention of others.”

“Indeed, I would suggest that you have your map at the ready, so that you and your friends can keep track of any infiltrators who might breach the castle. The rest of the staff, the Order, and myself can look after ourselves...”

The headmaster paused and peered somberly around the Mingling Table at his students.

“I know that you have all been preparing for this moment,” Dumbledore continued. “I wish it were that you did not have to face this danger at all, but I have confidence in your abilities to defend yourselves. I simply ask that you please do not put yourselves in unnecessary peril to come to the aid of any professors.

“And Harry - if at all possible - I would like to remind you to please avoid contact with Voldemort if possible. And to all of you, it is not necessary for you to fight him unless you find yourself directly facing him, as he is immensely dangerous.”

Harry swallowed as he flushed with a hot wave of anger. The wizard who had killed countless people and murdered his parents was going to be at Hogwarts again - with Wormtail. And Harry wanted to see them both dead.

Professor Dumbledore stared at Harry, waiting for some sort of response. Finally, Harry sighed and nodded.

“Yes sir... I’ll do my best to stay out of his way. I won’t fight him unless I absolutely have to.”

“Thank you Harry. That is all I can ask. For now, I will be making arrangements for the defence of Hogwarts, but I shall be speaking with you all again later today to go over the plans and make any adjustments.”

“Right then,” said Harry, addressing everyone at the Mingling Table when Dumbledore returned to the staff-table, “I reckon we’re about as ready as we’ll ever be - we’ve still got the protection symbols and runes on us - but I was thinking we should maybe drill together a bit more, and have a think to see if we have any ideas to contribute when we meet with Dumbledore again. 

“Sounds like a plan Harry,” said Dora. “We might as well get to it then...”

**~o0o~**

An eerie stillness fell over Hogwarts as the morning wore on. Clouds crept across the late summer sun, darkening the sky, and an unseasonably cold rain began to fall.

The professors and the Order members who had flooed to Hogwarts all cast additional protective charms and inspected the grounds, and were now waiting after having organised into teams. The Potters’ and their friends were shocked when they saw who else had arrived that morning.

“Daphne, Parvati - what are you both doing here?” Harry gasped.

“Helping of course!” Parvati replied. “Mum and Dad joined the Order last month. Mum stayed at home with Padma. They didn’t want me to come, but I told them I’d learned how to fight and begged them to let me come because besides Lavender, you’re all my best friends. Finally Dad said yes...”

“That’s more or less what happened with me too,” said Daphne before noticing someone she’d never met. “Oh, hello! Are you new at Hogwarts then?” she asked the girl with long black hair.

“Daphne, Parvati, meet Jennifer,” said Harry.

“Er... Hi!” said Jennifer shyly. “Yes, I’m... er...” Jennifer glanced at Hermione for help, not sure what to say. Hermione understood her quandary, and quickly jumped in.

“We don’t really have time to explain all the details right now,” said Hermione. “Jennifer’s sort of a Late Bloomer. There’s a bit more to it than that, but you mustn’t tell anyone else - well, it’s okay to tell Lavender too I suppose - but it’s a big secret, and nobody outside of our group can know about it... no-one at all. I’ll explain it all to you both later, I promise.”

“Alright then,” Daphne agreed. 

Parvati nodded. “Of course Hermione. So... er... what are we doing then?”

“You’re going to join us in the Room of Requirement,” Harry grinned. “Hermione, why don’t you take everyone up and I’ll be there in half a tick...” 

When Harry arrived in the Room of Requirement, the first thing he did was ink Parvati and Daphne with Runes and the Chinese symbols, while explaining what they were for. The rest of the day was spent drilling and practicing spells. Harry wished he had time to teach Parvati and Daphne how to conjure Patronuses properly, but settled for a brief lesson, and was happy to see that they were able to at least manage a basic shield.

After lunch, the headmaster had conferred with the Potters and their friends. At Hermione’s suggestion, Dumbledore had examined the Potters communication mirrors and replicated the enchantment, then passed out mirrors to all of the defenders. And the students were now biding their time in the Astronomy Tower as they had planned.

Dora chewed her fingernails nervously and glanced back at the open entrance where Luna and Ginny were huddled together whispering to one another. 

The others were inside the astronomy room while Fleur and Dora were taking their turn at watch, looking out through telescopes over the battlements as the rain thrummed against the conjured umbrella which covered them. However, little could be seen as the grounds were shrouded in mist and darkness.

“I dunno Harry,” said Neville anxiously. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for this.”

“You’ll be fine Neville,” Harry replied in a reassuring tone which belied his own apprehension. “You’re as good as anybody with the fighting spells now...”

“...and we’re all just as nervous as you are,” Hermione continued earnestly. 

“Hermione speaks truly,” said Viktor, who looked as stoic as a statue. “I too am anxious, though I may not look it...”

A clap of thunder interrupted Viktor and lightning lit up the sky. Moments later Dora dashed in through the open door past Ginny and Luna, her heart thumping so loudly that she was sure everyone could hear it.

“Harry, come take a look quickly, I think we saw something...” she gasped.

**~o0o~**

As the wind came up, the Dark Lord gazed across the dark wet grounds of Hogwarts from a nearby mountainside bluff where he stood with his top lieutenants, unperturbed by the downpour.

“What news do you have for me from your rodent spies Wormtail?”

“They tell me that Hogwarts is occupied my Lord,” Wormtail replied nervously. “Dumbledore and members of the Order have apparently anticipated our arrival and...” Wormtail hesitated, hoping that the Dark Lord wouldn’t be angered by the news, “and the Potter boy - he is with them.”

The Dark Lord hid well his surprise. It was far too late to alter his plans. The window of opportunity before the beginning of term was narrowing, and his forces were already in place at key locations, ready to breach the grounds of Hogwarts once he had countered the Protection Charms which warded the borders.

“It matters little,” Voldemort responded evenly. “Our occupying force is certainly vast and powerful enough to overwhelm whatever piddling resistance the Old Fool can muster.”

“I have prepared for every contingency,” the Dark Lord said to Wormtail and Bellatrix, “I do not know for certain what protected the boy the first time I encountered him, but I suspect an Ancient Magic invoked by his mother. It prevents me from touching him directly, or using the killing curse against him, and I expect it will also hamper my ability to possess him.

“But I know this much... it will not protect him again. What I know of the Prophecy is clear enough - and Harry Potter _**will**_ die by my hand tonight...”

Lord Voldemort held aloft the enchanted ceremonial dagger which he intended to use on Harry Potter when the time was right. Bellatrix cackled gleefully as a swarm of Dementors hovered nearby, their cloaks billowing. A cruel smile twisted Wormtail’s features.

“We will carry on as planned,” the Dark Lord continued as the rain grew heavier. “I shall wait in the Forbidden Forest with Crabbe and Goyle, a squad of Lycans, and a squad of Inferi while MacNair leads a regiment of Inferi, Giants, Snatchers, Lycans, and Trolls in a frontal assault. 

“The Acromantulas will join us once Hagrid’s little friend is dispatched with. Rodolphus shall launch an attack with the Snatchers from this very bluff. Bellatrix, you and Wormtail will take your team of Snatchers and Lycans through the hidden passages directly into the castle.

“When I give the order, moments before we begin the incursion, the new Inferi with the Contagion Curse shall be unleashed in towns and villages across Britain, and Snatchers will strike wizarding districts to keep the Ministry occupied. We strike at midnight...”

Huddled nearby, shivering from the cold and the wet, Theodore Nott edged towards the back of a group of Snatchers, hoping that no-one would notice. Without his father, Theodore’s lot in the Dark Lord’s army had grown even worse. 

He wished he’d never participated in Draco’s assault of Daphne, or helped Draco kidnap Astoria and escape Hogwarts. Since then, his life had gone into a tailspin. Theodore had lost a handful of fingers, and ended up in Azkaban, and then in the clutches of a maniac who would just as soon torture and murder any of his own followers as look at them.

Theodore knew he deserved everything which had happened to him. His father had always encouraged him to embrace the Dark Path and taught him that his blood-purity gave him the right to use and abuse those lesser than him for his own pleasure - until they themselves had both ended up in the hands of the Dark Lord.

Theodore remembered the promise he had made to his father. And now the chance to escape lay before him. And if he should make it out alive, Theodore was done with blood-purity and Dark Magic; he would do whatever it took to make himself a better person.

While everyone's attention was still focused on the Dark Lord, Theodore slipped into the misty shadows of a copse of pines. The noise of the pounding rain and claps of thunder covered his footsteps. Once assured that nobody had seen him, his heart pounding rapidly, Theodore Nott scrambled around a rocky outcrop and disappeared into the darkness.

**~o0o~**

Despite the cold and damp, Gilderoy Lockhart was sweating profusely. For all of his bluster, dueling was not his strong suit. Indeed, if Gilderoy were being honest with himself - which was rare - he was quite pathetic at it.

And yet here he was, preparing to attack the school where he had once been a professor, waiting for Bellatrix and Wormtail to return, inside Honeydukes’ cellar with Fenrir Greyback and half a dozen Snatchers.

Lockhart considered making a break for it, but ruled it out almost as quickly as the thought came to mind. Running simply wasn’t an option; he had witnessed first hand what the Dark Lord did to those who disappointed him. A quick death would be a blessing in comparison.

Gilderoy and the Snatchers all started when Wormtail and Bellatrix reappeared with a loud crack, both of them drenched from the storm and dripping onto the floor. Fenrir grinned, hoping to see some action soon. He was getting bored.

“Get up fools,” Bellatrix snapped at the Snatchers who were lazing around eating sweets. “We move now!”

“What’s the rush?” asked one of the younger, more foolish Snatchers - unaware of the danger he was courting.

“It will take us some time to travel through the the tunnels up to the castle and find an entrance,” Wormtail hurriedly responded as Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed at the young Snatcher.

“Dumbledore will almost certainly have blocked the passage which led from behind the statue of the one-eyed witch as that is the one which Draco Malfoy used to escape the castle,” Wormtail continued. “We have the map provided by Nott, but we still have to find another entrance to this tunnel which hasn’t been blocked ...”

“Enough!” Bellatrix snarled. “All the idiot needs to know is that we need to get a move on and be ready when the Dark Lord gives the order.”

Everyone lit their wands and Gilderoy swallowed nervously. He followed the others through the trapdoor into the dark tunnel under the sweet shop, putting some distance between himself and the young Snatcher who had annoyed Bellatrix.

**~o0o~**

Harry ignored the rain and glanced at the mountainside behind the castle where Dora and Fleur were pointing. His eyes widened when he spied the numerous flashes of brilliantly coloured light, which appeared to be a hundred spells flaring against a nearly imperceptible globe enveloping the grounds of Hogwarts.

The nearly invisible barrier collapsed and a brigade of wizards raced down the mountain towards the castle. 

Harry tapped his handmirror and spoke, “Professor Dumbledore, they’re attacking from the mountain behind Hogwarts. There have to be nearly a hundred of them...”

“Thank you Harry,” responded Dumbledore’s image in the mirror. “Stay at the ready and keep me informed of any other movements. We are already stationed at that wing of the castle...”

Ignoring the rain, Hermione had followed Harry out and grabbed a telescope which was aimed at the front lawn while Dora rejoined Fleur.

There was another flash of lightning and roar of thunder. Hermione gave a little scream and everyone else dashed out of the Astronomy room onto the observation balcony, their wands at the ready.

“Harry, look, on the front lawn...” beckoned Hermione.

Harry’s feet splashed through the puddles as he ran across the cobbled terrace and glanced downwards, seeing a swarm of shadowy figures moving across the lawn. He peered through a telescope, his heart pounding in his ears.

“Inferi...” gasped Harry. “Hundreds of them...”

“And Trolls,” moaned Hermione, brushing aside the strands of her bushy hair, which was quickly becoming saturated by the downpour.

“Not to mention Giants,” said Luna helpfully.

“And Wizards,” added Ginny, when she spotted the sparks and beams of light being shot from dozens of wands towards the castle.

“Merde,” Fleur groaned. Dora swore when she saw the size of Voldemort’s army. Daphne, Parvati, and Jennifer all looked shocked.

“Everyone, open fire!” yelled Harry, “Aim for the monsters. Leave the wizards for the Order. We’ll start with Bombarda Maxima on my mark... NOW!”

The teens reacted and powerful blasts ripped across the lawn dropping two giants and a dozen trolls. A hundred Inferi flew as well. But the Inferi picked themselves back up and rejoined the throngs which were growing larger by the minute. The Wizards were hanging back and kept the aim of their own explosive spells trained on the windows and the front doors of the castle.

The Potters and their friends fired several more times, dropping a dozen Trolls and another Giant, but the Inferi kept coming in waves.

At least seven Giants had already reached the castle and begun hammering the walls and the front doors. The castle trembled under the blows of the Giants, but the walls, windows, and doors appeared to be holding strongly for the time being.

The groaning Inferi which had reached the castle began piling up against the walls, clambering over each other, forming a mound of undead writhing corpses which reached higher and higher.

Viktor began shooting fiery explosive spells at the Inferi as the concussive ones were not enough to stop them. Dozens caught alight and Neville followed suit. But the flames soon sputtered in the downpour and the Inferi kept coming.

“It’s too wet for normal incendiary spells,” Harry shouted. “Just keep aiming Bombarda Maxima’s at the giants and the trolls. Hermione and I are going to try... ow!”

Everyone uttered little gasps at the stings - more out of startlement than anything - when the torrential rain turned to ice and large chunks of hail pelted them. Harry looked up; a large swarm of billowing black wraiths emerged from the churning clouds and swooped towards them.

“Dementors!” Harry grimaced. “Hermione, on my mark... NOW!” Harry yelled again.

The Potters’ Patronuses lit up the sky - briefly overpowering the flickers of lightning - and the Dementors shrieked. Moments later the Wraiths shattered, and black ice joined the clear hail which fell upon the students at the top of the Astronomy tower.

Harry and Hermione let their Patronuses fade, then refocused their aim at the grounds below which was teeming with groaning corpses.

“Just keep firing at the Trolls and Giants!” Harry shouted at the others. “Hermione and I will deal with the Inferi.”

The pulses of supercharged Patronus light flooded the lawn and the glowing ethereal stag and doe leapt from their wands, pouncing into the midst of the Undead. The grunts and moans of the Inferi turned into hideous shrieks and their eyes burst into flames in their sockets. The advance of the Inferi halted as all of those within the radius of the Patronuses shuddered.

The dead flesh withered and combusted from within, unhindered by the deluge, turning to ash which washed away in the rain. Hundreds of Inferi suddenly collapsed into heaps of skeletons, stilled forever. The Giants and Trolls kept hammering the castle, but the spells being fired from the other side of the lawn temporarily halted as the Dark wizards dropped their jaws in shock, nearly blinded by the dazzling pulses of light.

MacNair and the Snatchers were flabbergasted, and the Lycans were equally astounded. They had never seen anything like it.

**~o0o~**

Even though the strengthened walls of Hogwarts had already withstood the assault much longer than they would have prior to the Potters’ sex-magic powered “upgrades,” the headmaster doubted that they would do so forever. He suspected that eventually something would have to give - perhaps some windows - and that some of Voldemort’s forces would gain entrance through the breaches.

Dumbledore had left Snape, Lupin, Dawlish, Karkaroff, Hagrid, and Slughorn to guard the front of the castle while he, Flitwick, Sirius, Shacklebolt, McGonagall, and Hestia Jones had taken to the battlements at the rear.

Dumbledore had given Rita Skeeter the option of remaining protected by the House Elves. But Skeeter had surprised him by offering to help safeguard Hogwarts and had joined those defending the rear of the castle. 

Pomfrey, Trelawney, Sprout, Augusta Longbottom, Mr Patil, and Arthur and Bill Weasley took one side of the castle. Moody, Cyril Greengrass, Elphias Doge, Daedalus Diggle, Emmeline Vance, and Sturgis Podmore took the other. 

Amelia Bones had wanted to be at Hogwarts too, but Dumbledore had ordered her to remain in London at Number Twelve to protect the Potters’ relatives.

“Do not hesitate to use deadly force,” Dumbledore had warned everyone, much to their astonishment. “We cannot afford to be lenient or all shall be lost.”

As the wind and rain whipped Dumbledore’s long silvery beard, he gave the command, and the Order members with him on the stony ramparts facing the mountainside began firing spells at the phalanx of dark wizards approaching.

**~o0o~**

Theodore Nott heard the explosions in the distance and saw the sky light up time and again as he scrambled down the mountainside. He slipped and fell, splashing about in a burbling, muddy stream. Picking himself up in a panic, he suddenly realised that he couldn’t get off the mountain without entering the grounds of Hogwarts.

 

**~o0o~**

The Centaurs assembled in a wet clearing amidst a copse of gnarled, ancient oaks, deep in the Forbidden Forest, rain dripping from their sodden manes and tails. They shuffled and jostled, their voices carrying as they argued amongst themselves.

“We cannot stand idly by and let the Dark One take Hogwarts,” Firenze vehemently demanded .

“We should not interfere,” Ronan replied dolefully. “This war is for wizards. They must determine their own future. It is not our fight. The stars...”

“The stars be damned. Of course it is our fight,” retorted Firenze angrily. “Do you think that Voldemort will allow us to remain here in the forest should he take the castle? This is our home, and the master of Hogwarts is a good wizard and a friend to us all whether you accept it or not.”

Ronan looked troubled. He stroked his red beard pensively and glanced at the dozens of Centaurs gathered around to try and get a read on the general mood. Then he looked to the Centaur with the wild black mane who was being uncharacteristically silent.

“And what is your counsel Bane?” asked Ronan.

Bane hesitated. In times past, he would have expressed himself without delay, proffering his hopes that the wizards would kill each other to the last man. But Bane’s recent encounter with a most unusual coupling in the woods weighed heavily on his mind. Finally he responded.

“Harry Potter remains at the castle this summer,” Bane returned quietly.

Ronan lifted an eyebrow and began to nod, feeling reassured. He well remembered Bane’s infuriated reaction when Firenze had taken the young wizard upon his back. Firenze had been acting for the best in protecting Harry Potter at the time, but that had been a matter of preserving the peace. Joining a war was another matter altogether.

“I concur with Firenze,” Bane continued, his voice hardening. “We must fight.”

A flash of lightning rendered the shock on Ronan’s visage in sharp relief, and a number of other Centaurs began to stomp their hooves and whinny incredulously. But as stunned as they all were, none were as surprised as Firenze himself.

Bane’s nostrils flared and he whisked his tail when he realised that his apparent change of heart required further explanation.

“The Potter boy and his mate - they are not at all like most wizards. I discovered them coupling in our woods some weeks ago and felt their outpouring of magic - their essence permeating the very atmosphere of the forest. I bore witness to the blooming of new growth in a matter of moments. Their magic is pure - their magic is Life itself...” 

A chorus of gasps and neighing greeted Bane’s remarkable proclamation.

“Many in the wizard world revere him,” Bane carried on, ignoring the sounds of astonishment. “Harry Potter has the power to change the hearts of wizards - the example he and his mate present to their world must be protected.”

The gathering of Centaurs was silent; naught could be heard but the roar of the rainstorm and heavy peals of thunder. Finally a dappled Centaur stepped forward.

“If Bane counsels that we should fight alongside the master of Hogwarts against the Dark One, then I stand with him,” said the dappled Centaur resolutely. A murmur of agreement swept through the Centaurs, and Ronan sighed with resignation. The decision had been made.

**~o0o~**

Harry groaned when he saw another horde of Inferi lurching forward from the shadows and mist, crushing the bones of the fallen. The wizards in the distance began shooting spells at the castle again. The sound of squabbling on the terrace caught his attention and he peered at Ginny and Neville who were arguing.

“Neville... NO! She’s too strong for you...” Ginny screamed as Neville darted back into the castle. “We’re supposed to stay here - come back.” But Neville was gone and Ginny chased after him.

Luna picked up the Marauders’ Map which Ginny had dropped as she bolted after Neville. Luna’s eyes widened when she saw who was on the map.

“Harry,” Luna gasped, “They’re in the castle - Bellatrix Lestrange and some others...”

Harry’s chest tightened as he peered at the map, which was thankfully impervious to water. Harry was torn. When he spotted Peter Pettigrew’s name on the map, Harry was stricken with the same violent urge as Neville.

“Bloody Hell!” Dora muttered as she looked over Harry’s shoulder. “We’ve got to do something Harry! Fenrir Greyback and that loathsome cretin Lockhart are with Lestrange too.”

“Hermione,” Harry looked at her beseechingly, “We can’t let Neville and Ginny face Bellatrix and Wormtail alone.”

“At least one of us has to stay here, and it should be you Harry. You stay here...”

“No, you can’t go by yourself - I have to go with you...” Harry retorted heatedly.

“Harry, please, I’ll be alright,” Hermione pleaded. “Someone else can come with me. You have to stay and direct the fight...”

“I vill go with her Harry,” Viktor responded. “You are needed here.”

“I... I’ll g...go too,” stammered Jennifer. 

She gulped, but then her rain streaked face flushed and a flame sparked in her eyes. Harry stared at Jennifer as his heart thudded. He knew exactly why she wanted to go - why she needed to go.

“I’ll go as well Harry,” Dora said determinedly.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to steady himself.

“Right then,” Harry finally replied. “You go Hermione. Viktor, Jennifer and Dora can go with you. I’ll stay here with Fleur, Daphne, Luna, and Parvati. I’ll notify Dumbledore immediately. Just... please... please stay alive!”

“I will Harry. I promise,” Hermione tried to smile, but she couldn’t stave off the tears. “Just remember that I love you Mr Potter...”

Harry blinked back his own tears and embraced his wife, feeling a swell of warmth as he inhaled the scent of parchment and toothpaste.

“I love you too Mrs Potter,” Harry whispered, kissing her. “We’ll get through this - I just know it.”

**~o0o~**

It was a very soggy Dumbledore who sighed when Harry informed him of the turn of events. He turned and addressed the others as they retaliated against the dwindling legion of Snatchers below. He had to shout to be heard over the rainstorm and the barrage of spells being shot back and forth.

“Filius, Kingsley - Pettigrew and Bellatrix Lestrange are inside the castle with Fenrir Greyback and several others. Neville Longbottom and Miss Weasley have apparently taken it upon themselves to seek after Bellatrix...”

“I should go...” Sirius interjected forcefully. “She's my cousin - I know how she thinks!”

Dumbledore considered for a moment, then he nodded. “Very well - you and Kingsley then - Filius shall remain here instead.... Please be aware, I have notified the others to be on the lookout, and also dispatched Bill Weasley and Hagrid after the infiltrators...”

**~o0o~**

Harry couldn’t believe the number of Undead. Where were the Hordes all coming from? He hoped that his Patronus would still be powerful enough to do the job without Hermione at his side.

Another troop of reanimated corpses surged forward, piling up against the side of the castle, once more using each other as ladders. At Harry's direction, those still with him continued to use blasting spells while Harry did the best he could with his Patronus. 

He knew that together with Hermione they could cover a greater area, but thankfully, his Patronus was still powerful enough to beam down on the lawn from the top of the Astronomy Tower, and several hundred more Inferi within the radius of the pulsing radiance crumpled into piles of inert skeletons.

Each time a wave of Inferi were destroyed, another battalion of them charged forth. Four of the young wizards at the top of the Astronomy Tower kept blasting at the Giants and Trolls while Harry kept recasting his Patronus.

The Snatchers continued firing their own spells at the castle, frustration setting in as the walls of Hogwarts refused to submit to destruction, and trepidation setting in as the wizards at the top of the Astronomy tower demolished the monsters. MacNair and several Snatchers tried to get in some shots at whomever was at the top of the tower, but the spells being fired from some of the First Floor windows of Hogwarts prevented them from getting a clear shot.

After what seemed like hours, the great hordes of Inferi were reduced to vast piles of bones and skulls, and the last Giant at the front of the castle keeled over, causing a minor earthquake.

The Snatchers and Lycans needed to get inside the castle, but for that, they needed to take out Hogwarts’ forward defences and create a breach. Lightning flickered again directly overhead, and a thunderclap rumbled through the grounds. As it faded, several squads of Snatchers darted forward across the muddy lawn, using the mist, the heaps of skeletal remains, and the bodies of fallen Giants and Trolls as cover.

One team focused their fire on the Ground Floor windows while other teams targeted the parapet of the Astronomy tower and the windows of the First Floor above, through which the Order were returning fire.

The five young wizards fell back from the Astronomy tower balustrade and gasped for air as spells from below rebounded harmlessly off the battlements, finally allowing themselves a breather. Harry was utterly exhausted, still not quite believing what he had managed to accomplish after Hermione had departed.

“What’s next Harry?” asked Luna as she soggily flopped through the entrance of the Astronomy classroom after dragging herself through the puddles.

“We can’t just let the Order handle the wizards and werewolves by themselves...” Parvati said, shaking the rainwater off.

“And we’re not.... going to...” panted Harry. “That’s why we brought our brooms - we can’t stay here anyway. We’re a sitting target now... so we’ll take the fight to them and distract them for the Order...”

“Now is ze time to bombard them from above?” asked a dripping Fleur. Daphne’s eyes widened as she pushed the wet strands of hair out of her face with her fingers.

“Yeah, you’re all decent flyers...” Harry nodded, “and on our brooms we’ll be moving too fast for them to draw a bead on easily. Still, be careful out there, and watch me for the cues...”

**~o0o~**

“They’ve split up,” groaned Hermione as she looked at the map, quivering with agitation. “...the infiltrators I mean - they’ve split into smaller teams. Neville is heading right for Bellatrix and Ginny isn’t far behind him...”

“Ve must hurry then...” said Viktor. Dora nodded in agreement.

“But keep an eye out - Wormtail and his team are nearby...” Hermione glanced at Jennifer, “in fact they’re unavoidable unless we go back the way we came...”

Jennifer nodded and took a breath to steady herself. She was as ready as she would ever be.

“Stop...” Hermione whispered. Dora and Viktor halted in their tracks on the other side of the corridor junction. Hermione bristled; she could see him on the map - Wormtail.

A bolt of magic lit up the intersection and a small blast rocked it, filling the corridors with smoke. Hermione and Jennifer were cut off from Dora and Viktor.

“Go...” Hermione yelled through the smoke at Dora and Viktor, “Find Neville and Ginny before Bellatrix Lestrange does - we’ve got this...”

“No,” Viktor shouted back, “I vill not go anyvere wizout you both..”

Dora grabbed Viktor’s arm, “I’ll keep goin’ after the other two - you ‘elp Hermione and Jennifer, alright?”

Viktor could see the determination in Dora’s eyes and nodded. “Go then, and hurry...”

**~o0o~**

Ginny finally caught up with Neville as he entered the dungeons.

“Ginny, go back,” Neville said angrily. “I need to do this... But I don't want you to get hurt!”

“No,” Ginny retorted, her eyes brimming with tears “We’re all in this together Neville... You’re my friend and I’m not letting you face her alone.”

An explosion to their left caught their attention. Ginny and Neville whirled to see Bellatrix Lestrange and three Snatchers standing with their wands all trained on the pair of them. Bellatrix returned her Foe-Glass to a pocket in her robes.

“Well, well, well...” Bellatrix cackled, “If it isn’t two little lovebirds. Oh my, my - how sweet...”

“She’s just my friend,” Neville muttered, glowering at the evil witch. “She’s got nothing to do with this. This is between you and me... _Bellatrix Lestrange!”_

“Do I know you?” Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. “Why yes - I believe I do. You’re the Longbottom boy aren’t you? Oh yes... I had lots of fun with your parents.”

“I know you did, you hag...” Neville snarled.

“Tut, tut, such language for such a little bitty boy,” Bellatrix giggled madly. “I think your mouth needs to be washed out with soap.”

Neville couldn’t dodge the spell or get a shield up in time. He sputtered as his mouth filled with foam.

“Reducto,” Ginny screamed. But Bellatrix and the Snatchers dodged the spell and it disintegrated a 17th century vase on a shelf instead.

Ginny shouted another spell, “Bombarda!” and the Dark wizards scattered as they returned fire. Ginny ducked into an alcove in the nick of time as their spells collided with the wall.

Furiously spitting out suds, Neville aimed his wand as Bellatrix darted into his line of fire to avoid being hit by Ginny’s spell.

“Avada Kedavra!” yelled Neville, tears running down his burning cheeks.

Bellatrix shrugged off the green sparks from Neville’s wand, and her laugh sent chills up his spine.

“Silly boy! Is that all the little bitty baby has? You need a bit more than righteous anger to do any damage my dear boy. You can’t just wish someone was dead - you need to really feel it in your bones! And above all, you need control. Allow me to demonstrate...”

**~o0o~**

Wormtail and his team had made it as far as the Fifth Floor. His nose told him that several wizards were nearby... and he recognised the scents of at least two of them. Wormtail furrowed his brow in consternation. One of the scents shouldn’t be here at Hogwarts at all - he didn’t understand how it was possible.

Putting aside his perplex for the moment, Wormtail gestured towards the junction at the end of the hallway, and the Snatchers nodded in acknowledgment. Two of them cast bombardas at the intersection and it exploded.

Viktor Krum stepped through the haze and fired a bombarda of his own, making himself visible to draw Wormtail and the Snatchers away from Hermione and Jennifer. Wormtail threw up a shield spell just in time to block it.

Two of the Snatchers gave chase after Viktor, and spells began ricocheting through the corridor, knocking over suits of armour and shattering busts as Wormtail and the other Snatcher began exchanging spells with Hermione and Jennifer.

The two young witches dashed back down the corridor they had come through and found themselves on the veranda in the Hall of Staircases, haphazardly aiming spells behind them as they ran. A tripping jinx felled Jennifer and Hermione tumbled over her, landing on all fours, wand still in hand. Hermione’s ears caught two people yelling expelliarmus and her wand flew from her fingers over the side of the balcony along with Jennifer’s.

Two more Snatchers appeared in the passage.

“He got away,” one of them said to Wormtail.

“Don’t worry about him for now...” Wormtail grinned as he eyed Jennifer and Hermione. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. “We’ll deal with him when we catch up to him. In the meantime there are these two...”

Wormtail and the three Snatchers leered at Jennifer and Hermione, who were now both disarmed.

“You may as well give it up my pretties,” Wormtail chortled evilly as he pointed his wand at them. “You’re _**both**_ mine now...”

Jennifer saw Ratface and froze, petrified with terror. Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she calculated the distance.

In a blur of motion, Hermione flipped in the air as Dora had taught her during the Triwizard Tournament. With almost cat-like reflexes and fingernails she managed to gouge Wormtail’s face as she soared by him. Wormtail’s wand clattered to the floor as he palmed his face with both hands and howled in pain.

The three Snatchers tried to fire curses at the bushy haired blur, but they were too slow as Hermione rolled and tumbled, dodging every spell. One of the Snatchers hit another with the green bolt of magic which he had aimed at Hermione. The second Snatcher keeled over and the light in his eyes faded. 

The remaining two Snatchers kept firing spells at Hermione and missing as pieces of decor exploded. Hermione air-flipped again and wrapped her legs around one of the Snatchers’ necks. Grasping his head as she swung her body down, Hermione sent the shocked Snatcher crashing into the other one. The momentum carried both Snatchers over the side of the veranda and they fell six floors to their deaths.

Hermione landed on her feet facing Wormtail. He had managed to pull himself together and find his wand and now he had Jennifer in his clutches with his wand pressed under her chin. Blood dripped from the deep marks gouged in Wormtail’s face and he was livid.

“Try that again you little whore,” Wormtail snarled, “and the slag dies.”

A pilot-light clicked on inside Jennifer and her terror vanished as a furnace of fury burst into flame in her gut. Jennifer jabbed her elbow savagely into Ratface’s large, overly-soft belly. Wormtail groaned and doubled-over in pain. His wand went flying again, and this time it too disappeared over the edge of the Veranda.

Something snapped inside Hermione as well. This was the disgusting mass murderer who had been responsible for the death of Harry’s parents and who had kept Jennifer as his sex-slave for months. Hermione had never loathed someone as much as she hated Wormtail in that moment - except for perhaps Draco Malfoy and Gilderoy Lockhart.

Hermione knew that the Chinese symbols didn’t make them completely invulnerable, but if her first practice with Harry had been any indication, they would be strong enough for her crazy idea - she hoped they would be. Hermione took the chance and charged at Wormtail who still had Jennifer in his clutches, sending all of them crashing into the railing.

The banister broke and the three of them tumbled from the balcony. The last thought which went through Wormtail’s head as the floor rushed up at him was one of utter disbelief.

Remus Lupin heard the fighting above and paused in casting curses through one of the First Floor windows at the Snatchers and Werewolves who were rushing in to get closer to the castle now that most of the monsters were down for the count.

Lupin dashed across the First Floor veranda from the window and peered up four floors, recognising the tawny head of bushy hair even from a distance. For the umpteenth time tonight, Lupin wished that he had the sort of control that Animagi had, instead of this wretched Lycanthropy - this Dark Curse - uncontrollable, except with medicine, like a disease.

If Lupin could have “wolfed up,” he would have bounded up the staircases in seconds, but all he could do was watch in horror as three people tumbled in slow motion from a splintering balcony four floors above him all the way to the Ground Floor below.

 **“NOOOOO!”** screamed Remus Lupin as he charged down a staircase to the Ground Floor. He was shocked when he saw one of the surely broken bodies crawling towards another one which was stirring to sit up.

“Remus... we’re alright,” Hermione shouted, waving a hand weakly as she cuddled Jennifer, several metres away from another crumpled form on the floor.

“Thank goodness you’re both alive!” Lupin gasped, thrilled to see the two girls apparently none the worse for wear. “But how...? You fell six floors!”

“Chinese Protection symbols...” Hermione’s words were cut with wracks of pain. “Tattoos... Harry painted them on us... We’ll both be fine... I meant to push us all over... only way to get him...”

Hermione trailed off into a long groan. Every inch of her body hurt. At least she could move everything. Nothing seemed to be broken - though she was certain there would be a lot of bruising. Jennifer sobbed in Hermione’s arms.

“I froze...” wailed the dark haired girl as tears dripped from her flushed cheeks. “I saw him - and I froze!”

“Ssssh... its alright... you _**unfroze,**_ Jennifer,” Hermione reassured Jennifer as she gently rocked her. “We could both be dead if you hadn’t. You gave me the moment I needed to get the drop on the Bastard.”

“Thank you Hermione!” Jennifer murmured, her sobs abating. “I’m alive - and Ratface is dead!”

Assured that both girls would be alright, Lupin drew closer to the crumpled, unmoving “Bastard” to see who he was. The neck of the rotund wizard on the ground appeared to be bent at an unnatural angle, a crimson pool spreading on the floor under his head. The familiar looking wizard’s dead eyes were still open wide with shock. Lupin gasped when he saw the bloodied face.

It was Peter Pettigrew. Dead of a caved in skull and broken neck!

Remus Lupin’s eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared, and he slowly nodded in satisfaction. The manner of Wormtail’s death was fitting for someone who had betrayed his friends and participated in so much killing and torment - the Avada Kedavra too easy and painless. 

Remus allowed himself a few moments to savour the moment that Wormtail’s role in the murder of Lily and James Potter had been avenged by their son’s wife.

A moment later Remus realised that his own face was wet with tears and he turned his back on Peter Pettigrew’s inert form. Remus stalked over to examine the other two bodies on the ground nearby, neither of which he recognised; they were obviously Snatchers.

Hermione accioed first her wand, and then the map which had fallen nearby. As Hermione pored over the map her breath caught.

“Remus,” Hermione squeaked, “We’ve got to get to the Third Floor - Lockhart and Fenrir Greyback are closing in on Dora...”

**~o0o~**

Gilderoy Lockhart had a girl with bright purple hair in his sights but he hesitated. He had reacted in the nick of time and disarmed her after nearly running into the girl as he rounded a corner. She was young and pretty - such a waste.

And besides which, Lockhart really wasn’t very comfortable with the actual killing part of being a Death Eater. He had managed to avoid it so far by leaving it to the Snatchers and Werewolves in the Dark Lord’s Army whenever he had gone on raids.

Truth be told, Gilderoy was quite squeamish about killing, which was why he had developed his ‘Charm, Capture, Obliviate, and Release’ strategy at a young age.

“Kill her and be done with it...” snarled Fenrir Greyback.

Well, there was a first time for everything, reasoned Lockhart. Better the purple haired girl than himself.

Gilderoy leered at Dora, “Sorry Love, nothing personal! I prefer the Living to the Dead - but... well... I prefer being among the Living myself, so I’m afraid this is good-bye... Avada Keda...”

A scuffling noise caught Lockhart’s attention.

 **“YOU!”** Greyback roared at one of the figures in the junction of the corridors.

Lockhart’s momentary distraction was all that Dora needed; she silently reached out her hand and her wand skimmed across the floor in an instant. Lockhart looked back too late.

Fire burned in Dora’s eyes - a rage she had channeled into being an Auror - a rage which she had done her utmost to bury. It was the rage which had nearly got her expelled from Hogwarts - and it was a rage fueled by the pain she felt for every one of Lockhart’s young victims - wizard and muggle alike.

The controlled rage exited Dora’s wand in an arc of green lightning and Lockhart fell to the stone floor, dead.

It all happened so fast. Dora heard Hermione screaming Remus’s name and looked up to see Lupin struggling with Greyback. Remus was bleeding from several bites and apparently losing the battle; Neither Hermione or Jennifer could get a clean shot without hitting Remus too. 

But as the two werewolves rolled around, wrestling on the floor, an opportunity finally presented itself. 

Another green arc of magic shot from tip of Dora’s wand, hitting Fenrir Greyback in his side; he collapsed on top of Remus. Lupin kicked up his feet and pushed the dead Lycan off himself with a grunt.

“Th... thanks Dora...” Lupin gasped. “I’m sorry... I let him get too close. He was on me before I could curse him...”

“Don’t worry about it Remus,” Dora replied, panting heavily. “Thank you! ...All o’ you - If you and Hermione and Jennifer ‘adn’t arrived right now... I’d be a goner...”

Dora had never killed anyone before, and it was unnerving to say the least to realise that she had it in her. But she was alive and Remus was alive.

And Jennifer and Hermione were alive; Dora spied the same hollowness in their eyes and somehow she knew that Wormtail was dead. The three young witches flung themselves on each other and embraced tearfully.

Remus Lupin smiled and turned away to give them a moment to themselves. He heard a voice calling him and turned to see Bill Weasley running up.

“Is everyone alright Remus? Who’s that on the ground?” Bill gasped. “Merlin! ...Is that who I think it is?”

“Fenrir Greyback and Gilderoy Lockhart,” Remus nodded. “Tonks got them both...”

**~o0o~**

“Protego,” shouted Neville as Bellatrix Lestrange’s spell exited her wand and the three Snatchers converged on the alcove in which Ginny was hiding. But Neville’s shield spell wasn’t strong enough to block Bellatrix’s Cruciatus Curse and he collapsed with a scream, dropping his wand and writhing on the floor in agony.

“Neville!” shrieked Ginny.

One of the Snatchers took advantage of Ginny’s distraction, and disarmed her, sending her wand clattering down the dungeon corridor.

“Bring the girl to me,” Bellatrix snapped.

“No... please,” moaned Neville, “Don’t hurt her. Hurt me instead...”

“My, my! How noble of you Longbottom!” Bellatrix snickered, “Oh I will hurt you... yes I will. This is just playtime for me, but for you, this will be a demonstration of what it takes to really cause someone pain or kill them. You have to really _**enjoy**_ it little boy...”

Moments before she did it, Neville had a horrible feeling that he knew what Bellatrix Lestrange was going to do next. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Bellatrix aimed her wand at Ginny.

“Expulso!” someone yelled.

A blast of energy launched into the corridor startling Bellatrix. She staggered back against the wall and the spell hit the Snatchers, knocking them all off their feet. Ginny scrambled back into the alcove, her heart pounding against the wall of her chest.

Every nerve ending was still on fire but Neville used every ounce of his will to focus and summon his wand. Strong hands pulled him to his feet and Neville finally got a look at his rescuer.

“Th...thanks Viktor,” Neville stammered.

“You are velcome,” Viktor responded, dragging Neville behind a pillar.

“Ginny...” Neville groaned, sweating anxiously.

“Do not vorry,” said Viktor, “I haff reinforcements...”

The Snatchers shook their heads clear and looked up at the entrance to the dungeons to see who else had just arrived. One of the Snatchers raised their wand, only to be hit by a bolt of green lightning coming from the doorway. The other two clambered to their feet and took off running.

Bellatrix’s eyes went wide as she peered around a corner

“Sirius!” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello dear cousin,” Sirius said dryly. “Are you prepared to give up quietly? Or are you going to force me to kill you?”

“Kill me?” Bellatrix cackled. “You must be joking. You’re one of Dumbledore’s. You forget how well I know you. You don’t have it in you...”

“Really?” Sirius responded with a cold voice. “Two of your compatriots have deserted you, but look there...”

Bellatrix looked to see where Sirius was pointing and spied the unmoving Snatcher with dead eyes lying on the floor. She narrowed her own eyes, flaring her nostrils as reality sank in.

“You’ll never take me,” hissed Bellatrix. Thick smoke poured out of the end of her wand, blocking Sirius’s line of sight.

Sirius shot another bolt of green lightning through the billowing clouds, missing by a wide margin. Bellatrix had darted into another dungeon tunnel, but from his vantage point, Neville still had eyes on her.

Another curse came to mind, one which he had heard Harry discussing with Hermione when they thought Neville wasn’t listening - a spell the Champions had trained with before the Third Task. They had both decided that the curse might be too dangerous to teach the others, but Neville remembered the incantation.

“Sectumsempra,” Neville snarled, hoping that his aim was true; the running witch was almost out of sight. He heard a scream and knew that he had hit Bellatrix, but the receding sound of her footfalls on the stone floors told him that she was still on her feet.

The smoke cleared; Viktor and Neville ran to the alcove where Ginny was still trembling.

“Ginny, you alright?” gasped Neville, feeling guilty for putting Luna’s girlfriend in harm’s way. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have gone after her.”

“I’m fine,” said Ginny who was still shaking, her face pale. “I’m okay Neville... really! And I understand... If she’d done to my parents what she did to yours, I would’ve done the same thing.”

Sirius strode down the dungeon passage which Bellatrix had taken to the next junction, but she was nowhere to be seen. All he found was a pool of blood on the stone floor and scarlet splatter dripping down the rocky wall. 

“Damn! She’s gone,” Sirius muttered to himself. He heard footsteps behind him and saw Viktor.

“Bellatrix is in these tunnels somewhere, and so are two of Voldemort’s men,” he told Viktor as he pulled his mirror from a pocket. “We’ve got to find them. I’ll get Hagrid and Kingsley down here too...”

“Here is her vand,” said Viktor. “She must haff dropped it when she voz hit with Neville’s curse.”

“Good,” Sirius nodded. “I’ll give it to Dumbledore later.” Sirius glanced at the blood again, then peered down the corridor at Neville in surprise.

“That was quite a curse indeed,” muttered Sirius. “I never would have guessed that Neville had it in him...”

**~o0o~**

Harry swore when he spied Acromantulas swarming from the Forbidden Forest to join the Dark Wizards fighting below. He soared through the driving rain above the field of battle at the front of the castle, firing explosive spells at the Wizards, Werewolves, and enormous Arachnids.

He zigged and zagged to avoid the curses being fired back at him. Fleur and Daphne circled above the lawn blasting away at those below. Members of the Order continued shooting their own spells from the castle windows. Luna and Parvati swooped towards the Forbidden Forest, using every spell they could think of to cut the Acromantulas off.

It seemed to be working. The Acromantulas emerging from the forest saw the bodies of their brethren piling up and doubled back, thinking better of it. As much as they enjoyed the flesh of humans, they preferred living.

But then Harry’s worst fear came true. Dark Wizards were in the forest. He saw a spell hit Luna’s broom and it spiraled into the woods. Panic clutched Harry’s chest and he put on a burst of speed towards Parvati.

“Down there,” Parvati screamed when she spotted Harry flying towards her. “I saw her go down right there.”

“Right then,” Harry gasped. “I’m going in...”

“I’m coming too!” Parvati stated adamantly. Harry knew there was no time to argue. A flash of lightning over the castle made Parvati’s determined features all too clear.

“Alright,” Harry swallowed in trepidation. “Together then... But be careful. There are obviously more Wizards, and probably Werewolves in there too.”

Harry and Parvati didn’t want to provide whomever had struck Luna’s broomstick with another target, so they flew low just above the trees, coming from a different direction, and then dismounted near where Luna had crashed.

Rainwater streamed from the trees as they crept quietly through the sodden underbrush. The sounds of hooves and howling Werewolves nearby could be heard until another thunderclap drowned them out.

Harry’s heart beat loudly in his ears. He spied several wizards in a clearing ahead. A branch cracked to his left and Harry spun around, shoving Parvati behind him into the bushes. Harry didn’t recognise the spell which he took for Parvati. The last thing Harry saw before he blacked out was a slashing wand and a burst of purple flame.

**~o0o~**

Theodore Nott tromped through the woods along the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, panting heavily when he heard a crashing in the branches above him. A body and a broken broomstick tumbled to the muddy ground. He wiped the rain out of his eyes and ran forward to see who it was.

Theodore recognised the dirty-blonde hair. Luna Lovegood? What was she doing here at school in the summer? Theodore didn’t have time to think though.

“Over here... The witch went down over here somewhere,” a voice called out.

Panicking, Theodore did the only thing he could think of. He picked up Luna’s inert form under her arms and dragged her into the wet bushes. Shaking with fear, Theodore stayed as silent as he could under the dripping canopy of the bushes as he watched the feet of several wizards stalking by.

“I see a broomstick, but I don’t see the witch,” another voice shouted.

“Never mind that, we’ve got Potter!” someone else gloated. “Forget the witch. She probably broke ‘er neck when she fell. That was a hard crash.”

“You’ve got Potter? Are you certain?”

“Yeah! It’s ‘im alright. I’d recognise ‘im anywhere - ‘e’s got the scar. The Dark Lord’ll be real pleased about this...”

“Good, because he’s right livid at the moment, the way this battle’s been going.”

Theodore waited for the gleeful wizards to leave, then he carefully pulled Luna out of the bushes and examined her as rivulets of rainwater poured onto them from the trees above.

“Please don’t be dead...” Theodore gasped. “Please don’t be dead.”

Images from the day he had helped Draco escape the castle flashed before his eyes along with an image of a little blonde girl lying on the floor of a tunnel with Draco on top of her, and Theodore felt an overwhelming wave of shame.

“Please don’t be dead!” Theodore repeated to himself, panting heavily.

Trembling, Theodore put his ear to Luna’s chest. He fell back with a sigh of relief. Luna Lovegood was still breathing.

“Get away from her, you lousy cretin,” snarled an angry witch. Nott whirled around and spied a very wet witch bearing down on him.

“No, you don’t understand...” Nott moaned.

“What’s to understand? That’s my friend you’re pawing at,” Parvati quivered with rage as she tried to decide which spell to use.

Parvati swallowed as her stomach tightened. She had thought herself prepared to kill any Death Eater or Snatcher she came across - especially someone like Nott. But finding herself face to face with him - and he didn’t even have his wand out - the idea of it just made her feel ill. It wasn’t the same as firing curses at people attacking her in the heat of battle.

“Please...” whimpered Nott, “I was just...”

“Shut up! Don’t even...” Tears began to stream down Parvati’s cheek as she saw Luna lying there, unmoving. Parvati didn’t know if Luna was alive or dead.

Parvati badly wanted to hurt Nott - the boy who had helped Draco kidnap Daphne’s sister - but her hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Why was this so hard? It should be easy. Finally something snapped inside of her and Parvati began to flick her wand.

“Parvati, stop...” Luna weakly said as she began to stir and her eyes fluttered open.

Parvati gasped and nearly dropped her wand, “Luna, what...?”

“Nott saved me,” Luna groaned in pain as she sat up.

“No... that can’t be...” Parvati glared at Nott who remained as still as possible. “You were out cold Luna - I thought you were dead. How would you even know...?”

“I was knocked out when I crashed through the trees,” Luna replied calmly. “But as my brain began working again I heard the Snatchers looking for me, and Nott pulled me into the bushes so that they wouldn’t find me - I _**would**_ be dead if Nott hadn’t saved me...”

Still not sure whether to believe Luna, Parvati slowly lowered her wand as she continued to scowl. Theodore Nott let out his breath in relief, and burst into tears.

“I’m sorry!” Theodore sobbed, “I’m sorry for everything... I know I deserve whatever you were going to do to me. I... I know that what I did was wrong...”

Seeing that Nott no longer appeared to be a threat, Parvati allowed a surge of relief to flow through her and ran to Luna’s side. Parvati began to cry herself as she flung her arms around Luna who was smiling serenely now.

“I thought... I really thought you were dead,” Parvati wept. Luna wrapped her own arms around Parvati while Nott continued to sob.

“Where’s Harry?” Luna asked when she let go of Parvati.

“We have to go find him,” Parvati looked stricken. “I’m sure he’s still alive - I heard the Snatchers say so. They took him... We’ve got to get him back.”

“We can’t do it by ourselves,” Luna said reasonably. “Do you have a mirror? Mine’s broken...”

Parvati nodded.

“Call Dumbledore then,” Luna murmured. “We’ll need whatever help we can get.”

**~o0o~**

As the blackness of the stormy night turned to grey, the headmaster realised that dawn was approaching. He was astounded that the walls of Hogwarts remained unbreached. Dumbledore knew that the Potters’ “upgrades” had been expansive, but he hadn’t expected them to hold out indefinitely.

The legion of wizards who had attacked Hogwarts from the mountainside were now strewn in puddles across the meadow behind the castle. No longer needed at the back of the castle, Dumbledore and the rest of those defending the rear had joined those at the front. He noted with satisfaction that the ranks of the attackers which were still standing there, were greatly diminished.

He was astonished that the Potters had wiped out what appeared to be the remains of several thousand Inferi, no doubt brought down by their remarkable Patroni. Well over a dozen Giants and numerous Trolls also lay broken and defeated on the lawn. But a growing anxiety gnawed at the headmaster when he only spied Fleur Delacour and Daphne Greengrass flying above.

That fear was realised when he received the mirror-call from Parvati Patil. Hagrid, Sirius Black, and Viktor Krum were still searching the dungeons for Bellatrix and her companions. Dumbledore knew that the task was his own, but he needed backup.

“Severus, I require your assistance,” Dumbledore called out. “Voldemort has Harry.”

The blood drained from Snape’s already exceedingly pale face.

“Then you shall require more than my assistance,” Snape replied.

“Indeed, I have summoned Bill Weasley and Remus as well.”

“Have you informed Mrs Potter?” Severus asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dumbledore looked troubled and his chest tightened. He didn’t know that Mrs Potter had remained in the castle. Snape saw the unwillingness to put Hermione Potter in harm’s way once again in the headmaster’s eyes, and he sighed.

“You must...” Severus began. An eerie loud hiss of a voice echoed through Hogwarts, and everyone within and without the castle stilled.

**~o0o~**

The Dark Lord was wild with rage. Hours had passed, and except for those who had entered through the secret tunnels from Hogsmeade, his forces had yet to gain entrance to the castle, and his army was crumbling.

The Centaurs had routed the Lycans, and those Werewolves which remained alive were now scattered throughout the Forbidden Forest being hunted. All of the Dark Lord’s plans were turning to dust. This made no sense. Where had he gone wrong?

But as dawn broke, Antonin Dolohov, Thorfinn Rowle and several Snatchers burst into the clearing which held Lord Voldemort and his entourage. The Dark Lord saw that they carried an unconscious figure, and he dared to hope again.

“My Lord, I bear a gift...” Dolohov bowed before his master. “I have the Potter boy.”

Voldemort was flanked by Crabbe, Goyle, and his remaining Dementors which numbered no more than fifty, Nagini curled at his feet. The Dark Lord nodded and a thin smile crept to his lips. With Harry Potter in his hands, the Dark Lord’s plans could yet be salvaged.

“Good, good... Bring the boy to me,” hissed the Dark Lord. “You have done well. I shall reward you handsomely when this is finished.”

Dolohov and Rowle lay Harry Potter down on a makeshift altar before their master as the torrential rain finally began to ease. The Dark Lord readied his ceremonial dagger - enchanted to absorb Potter’s life-force and transfer it to his own - and touched the tip of his wand to his throat. It was time to make his announcement. The Dark Lord’s voice carried throughout the grounds and castle of Hogwarts.

“Harry Potter is mine,” Lord Voldemort boasted. “Give up the castle and bow down before me, and I may spare him... But if you do not, I shall take his life and kill every last one of you. You have five minutes to decide how you wish this to be concluded.”

A cruel smile curled the Dark Lord’s lips knowing that whatever happened, Dumbledore would find Potter already deceased. He wasn’t going to wait five minutes. He, Lord Voldemort, was going to end the Potter line right here and now, and rid himself of the bane of his existence once and for all. Voldemort raised his dagger and drove it downwards.

Voldemort’s ceremonial dagger shattered when it hit Harry Potter’s ribcage. The resultant release of magic radiated explosively in a shockwave which knocked everyone in the glade into the mud except for the Dementors. The Dark Lord fell to the ground and blacked out.

Harry bolted awake with a gasp of pain and saw the Dementors swarming around him as he heard a number of apparition cracks. Harry could hear Hermione screaming his name. He didn’t know what was happening, but Harry knew he wasn’t going to lose his soul to a Dementor’s Kiss.

Remus Lupin had apparated closest to Harry and began to cast his Patronus. But Harry and Hermione beat him to it.

 **“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”** Harry and Hermione both roared.

The last of Voldemort’s Dementors shattered in the crossfiring Patronuses, and Lupin was caught in the blinding waves of pulsating luminescence. The radiant, ethereal Stag and Doe bounded towards Remus and bowled him over. Harry leapt to his feet.

“Remus!” Harry gasped, terrified that his and Hermione’s Patronuses might have had some sort of ill effects on the Werewolf professor, “Are you okay?”

Lupin appeared dazed as he grinned up at Harry.

“Never better!” said Remus giddily as the euphoria washed through him. 

All focused on Harry and Lupin, nobody noticed Voldemort returning to consciousness and clambering to his feet. Everyone but Lupin - still lost in a blazing white fog of exhilaration - was startled when Voldemort hissed loudly, rising through the air in a wisp of black smoke.

“You think this is over?” said the Dark Lord, his voice brittle and icy, cold fury rushing through his veins. “I am the Master of Death! I, who have attained power beyond your ken. I am Lord Voldemort and you shall all fall before my might...”

Voldemort soared above the still dripping trees into the early morning sun which was now peeking through a cloudbreak above the mountaintops. Everyone stood dumbfounded as they watched Voldemort fly without the aid of a broomstick. Nagini slithered off into the woods.

Albus Dumbledore winked at the flabbergasted Boy-Who-Lived-Yet-Again, “Don’t worry Harry. I have this well in hand...”

A white cloud swirled around Dumbledore and lifted him into the air. Dumbledore ascended rapidly and disappeared above the trees. Hermione flung herself on Harry as tears of happiness streamed down her glowing cheeks.

“Harry... you’re alive!” squeaked Hermione.

“Was there ever any doubt?” Harry grinned.

“Prat!” Hermione retorted before she snogged Harry silly. An apparent thunderclap took everyone by surprise, as the rain was little more than a light shower now, and more gaps could be seen in the clouds through the trees. 

“Come on,” Lupin beckoned, having recovered somewhat. He grasped Harry and Hermione and the three of them vanished with a crack.

Moments later they reappeared on the front lawn of the castle where the few Snatchers still standing had thrown down their wands and were surrendering to the defenders of Hogwarts. Everyone looked up at the sky where a rainbow was forming.

A black cloud and a white cloud appeared to be in battle as bolts of multicoloured lightning arced between them. They swirled around each other and there was one final boom which shook the grounds of Hogwarts. The black cloud descended rapidly and hit the lawn with a solid thump.

The white cloud drifted towards the ground and settled lightly on the lawn next to the groaning crumpled form of Lord Voldemort. The cloud dissipated, revealing the tall figure of the headmaster looming above the prone Dark wizard. Everyone stilled, silently watching in anticipation.

Hermione curled one arm around Harry as they both drew their breaths. Albus Dumbledore sighed and drew the Sword of Gryffindor from within his robes as he peered unblinkingly at Tom Riddle.

Voldemort snorted angrily, then winced in pain, still not certain how all of his plans had gone so horribly awry. With his muggle father’s blood cast out, the Dark Lord should have been the Headmaster’s superior in every way. 

Still, Voldemort consoled himself with the fact that he had an ace in the hole, six of them to be precise. He would find another wizard to bring him back eventually. Feeling somewhat mollified, he silently peered into Dumbledore’s crystal blue eyes.

“Well Tom,” Dumbledore finally said, “It appears that your second reign of terror has come to an ignominious end.”

Dumbledore’s piercing blue gaze penetrated Tom Riddle’s blazing red eyes as he stood over the prone “Dark Lord” with the Sword of Gryffindor in hand. Voldemort cackled in response.

“You are a fool Dumbledore,” the Dark Lord hissed, confident that his horcruxes would continue to bind him to life. “I have traveled further into the realm of Death than any before me, and returned. I have defeated Death and I shall rise again, even stronger than before. Besides, I know you... You are too much of a Coward to kill.”

Voldemort faltered slightly when he saw the Headmaster of Hogwarts’ eyes twinkling and a smile creep to the old man’s lips. Was Dumbledore really that stupid? Did he not understand that the Dark Lord was destined to rule Britain? Did he truly not see the futility of killing the unkillable? Had all those sherbert lemons finally gone to Dumbledore’s head?

Dumbledore had seen all he needed to see. Tom Riddle was rather adept at Legilimency, but he no longer had enough self-control to be a truly great Occlumens.

The headmaster shook his head. At one time he might have felt some small measure of pity for the pathetic delusional creature which he saw lying before him. After all, it hadn’t really been Tom Riddle’s fault that he had been marked by diseased inbreeding and magical rape from birth. Riddle had been left motherless by a severely damaged and emotionally stunted young woman dying of a broken heart. It wasn’t Tom Riddle’s fault that he could never feel love.

But the time for pity was long, long past. Lord Voldemort was the creation of a remarkably intelligent young man who had been given every opportunity to forge a new path for himself. As sad as it was that he had not the capacity to develop a more positive future for himself, and had fallen ever deeper into psychosis and delusion, Riddle had for too long wrought too much cruelty and destruction to be afforded the luxury of sympathy.

“Not this time, Tom!” Dumbledore sighed as he swung the Sword of Gryffindor.

The look of shock froze on Voldemort’s face as his head was violently cleaved from his body and flew through the air. It struck the sloping lawn and tumbled all the way down the hill into the Black Lake as a red puddle formed in the grass by the gaping neck of Tom Riddle’s corpse.

Dumbledore reached out with his senses, then glanced towards the Forbidden Forest and spied Nagini slithering away through the field of skeletal remains, and the dead and wounded Giants, Trolls, Lycans, and Wizards. With a crack the headmaster apparated to within the serpent’s striking range. Nagini hissed and lunged at Dumbledore.

The Sword of Gryffindor flashed in the morning sun once again and the Great Snake’s head was sent soaring after its Master’s into the Black Lake.

There was now only one horcrux left - besides the piece of soul attached to Harry - and thanks to Tom Riddle’s lack of control, the headmaster now knew where it resided. Albus Dumbledore strode back through the fallen towards the castle with some satisfaction. Retrieving Hufflepuff’s cup should be a relatively simple task.

Pending the destruction of the last horcrux, and the elimination of the one in Harry, the Order could now focus all of their efforts on publicly exposing the Minister’s crimes and bringing her to justice.


	48. In the Wake of the Storm

The angry Shade of the Dark Lord had fled through the bodies of the fallen on the field of battle, and into the Forbidden Forest when his head had been unceremoniously stricken from his body. He sought a creature to inhabit which could bear him until he could find another wizard willing to bring him back.

Temporarily, the Dark Lord possessed a crow, and flew off into the wilds of the Scottish Highlands, transferring from one small animal to another as their bodies failed. Finally he found an adder and he was pleased. A venomous snake was the only animal capable of being possessed by the Dark Lord indefinitely without expiring.

The Dark Lord considered his options. He could find his way to a seaport, and hide on a vessel bound for Europe, and make his way to his old haunts in Albania, biding his time as he developed another plan. But the risks were too great. Dumbledore would be expecting that.

No, the Dark Lord needed to act quickly and find a wizard to possess who would survive the process long enough until he found another to return him to his rightful form. He needed to stay in Britain so that he could seek vengeance in a timely manner. But he couldn’t act near Hogwarts, where Dumbledore might surely find him out.

The Dark Lord needed to be elsewhere; he slithered south and crossed the border into England.

**~o0o~**

Madam Pomfrey ignored the wounded attackers lying on the front lawn, leaving them to the devices of the Healers who were already arriving from St Mungo’s, and the Aurors who would soon be following.

All weariness from the long night forgotten, Madam Pomfrey bustled around the Hospital Wing tending to the Potters and their friends. She was relieved to no end that they had all survived the tumultuous ordeal that they had faced. Fleur, Daphne, Parvati, Viktor, Ginny, and Dora seemed none the worse for wear, but the rest needed looking after.

“Well, Mr Potter, you shouldn’t be conscious at all,” Madam Pomfrey shook her head in amazement as she passed Harry a foul smelling potion to drink. “That was quite a nasty spell you took. It should have damaged your internal organs far more than it did.”

Harry winced as he sat up in his bed to take the potion. Once the battle was over and Voldemort lay dead, Harry’s adrenaline had diminished; exhaustion and pain had set in.

“It must be these Chinese symbols,” Harry replied as he took a whiff of the potion and wrinkled his nose. “I’m not sure why though - I thought they only protected our internal organs and bones from physical injury.”

Harry peered questioningly at Hermione who was lying in another bed next to his.

“I’m not sure why either Harry,” Hermione responded with a shrug which made her groan in pain. “All I can think is that they must have made our internal organs extremely resilient.”

“Well, be that as it may, your spleen, kidneys, and liver received a nasty shock and you’ll still need to drink that potion Mr Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said in a brisk manner. “Come on then, drink up. I need to look after your wife and the others...”

Harry grimaced, then quickly downed the revolting potion so that Madam Pomfrey could move on to her next patient.

“Urgh, that’s horrid...” he gasped.

“Very good Mr Potter,” Pomfrey’s stern features softened and she smiled at him. “One more of those each evening over the next few days and you’ll be as right as rain. You should feel lucky - you might have been drinking that several times a day for a few weeks. You can have a pain potion and a sleeping draught after I’ve given everyone else a look.”

Harry nodded and took a sip of water to rinse the vile taste from his mouth while Madam Pomfrey examined Hermione who had come up black and blue over nearly every inch of her body.

“Well dear,” said Pomfrey after a moment, “except for some nasty bruising and a few hairline fractures, you seem all in order. Which is incredible after that fall - six floors, my word!”

Hermione peered gratefully and proudly at her husband, “Thanks to Harry and his excellent calligraphy skills...”

“Do Miss Watts and Miss Lovegood also bear these remarkable runes dear?” asked Madam Pomfrey.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, blushing slightly at Hermione’s praise. “I painted them on all of us a few days ago.”

“Then I daresay that you saved everyone’s lives including your own, Mr Potter,” Pomfrey concluded with a very pleased expression. “Misses Watts and Lovegood should be no worse off than Mrs Potter here.”

And with that, Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over Hermione and murmured an incantation which Harry recognised as the one which Gilderoy Lockhart had attempted to use on Harry’s arm in Second Year, much to Harry’s detriment.

Madam Pomfrey’s spell was far more effective of course. Then she passed Hermione a potion for the bruising. Hermione sniffed the potion apprehensively.

“Oh, thank goodness! It doesn’t smell as awful as yours Harry!” said Hermione before she caught herself. “Oops... Sorry Harry!” She glanced apologetically at Harry only to find him grinning at her.

“It’s alright Hermione,” said Harry. “I would much rather be drinking this potion myself than have to watch you suffering through it.” 

“Right then...” said Madam Pomfrey brusquely, “Now that’s sorted I’ll be back with the pain potions and sleeping draughts in a moment when I’ve finished. You two can share a bed now if you’d like.”

Parvati and Daphne came over to tuck Hermione in with Harry when Madam Pomfrey moved on to Jennifer. Dora and Fleur were sitting between the Potters’ and Jennifer’s bed. Once she had finished with Jennifer, Madam Pomfrey took care of Luna, who was being cuddled by Ginny.

Finally, Madam Pomfrey gave Neville a soothing potion which immediately eased any lingering inflammation of his nerves caused by the Cruciatus Curse. Then she went to find pain potions and sleeping draughts for everyone.

“Well, that ought to do it for you Longbottom,” Madam Pomfrey said when she returned, “You’re fit to leave now. Though I suggest plenty of rest for you as well... You too Miss Weasley - you look exhausted.” 

“Here’s a vial of sleeping draught for each of you. I suggest you both take it as soon as possible - though you may eat first if you’re hungry.”

“Thank you Madam Pomfrey,” said Ginny happily. “Can we visit the others later.”

“Perhaps this evening dear, after all of you have had a good long nap,” Madam Pomfrey assured her with a smile. “Now run along while I finish up with the others.”

“Thanks Madam Pomfrey,” Neville said as he got up. “We’ll come back later then.”

**~o0o~**

Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape rejoined Hagrid and Sirius at the dungeon entrance. Viktor Krum, McGonagall, and Karkaroff appeared moments later.

“Blimey!” exclaimed Hagrid, “There’s not a ruddy sign o’ the hag anywhere...”

“There must be another secret exit from the castle in the dungeons,” Sirius sighed resignedly. They had been looking for several hours to no avail.

“At least we caught the hooligans who were with her,” sniffed McGonagall. “I have left them with the others being rounded up at the front of the castle.

“Quite!” Dumbledore nodded and sighed too. “Well, there is little else we can do for the moment. We have Bellatrix’s wand and she is injured - and from what young Mr Longbottom told me, we can be certain that she will not be up to any mischief anytime soon. Apparently, he used a cutting curse which is well known to you Severus.”

Snape raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Really? That is quite a feat for Longbottom,” Severus looked slightly abashed for a moment, then he swallowed and his dark eyes glittered with satisfaction. “He has come a long way indeed from the little boy who was once terrified of his own shadow...”

“Regardless,” Sirius interjected. “We cannot count Bellatrix out. She will bide her time until she heals and finds a new wand. But when she does, she will be seeking revenge - and if Bellatrix should make a pact with the Minister...”

Sirius trailed off, and everyone shuffled uncomfortably at the unsavoury thought. The ruminations of the searchers were interrupted by the appearance of Kingsley Shacklebolt at the dungeon entrance.

“Albus, they are here - Scrimgeour and the Aurors just arrived.”

**~o0o~**

Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour glanced at the carnage littering the front lawn of Hogwarts as he approached the main entrance of the castle. The Aurors who had arrived with him fanned out to examine the scene. The bodies of the dead and injured were scattered everywhere in the muddy grass: Trolls, Giants, Wizards, Werewolves, and what appeared to be vast mounds of scorched bones and skeletal remains.

Scrimgeour spied Dawlish approaching and they peered awkwardly at each other.

“Well this is quite a mess John,” said Scrimgeour after a moment. “What happened here?”

“Perhaps you’d better speak to the headmaster about it Rufus,” Dawlish replied stiffly.

Scrimgeour sighed, “I would like to hear it from you John - can’t you even give me that much? You were my friend once.”

“You know why I left. You should have too...”

“I am loyal to the Ministry,” Scrimgeour snapped.

“What about loyalty to your friends? You remember those don’t you? _People that you know you can trust!”_ Dawlish retorted, growing angry. “Amelia was the best Head of the DMLE the department has ever had and you know it - but you just stood there twiddling your thumbs and let Dolores push her out...”

Scrimgeour didn’t reply; he looked away uncomfortably.

“Why are you still working for that... Toad?” Dawlish continued. “Can you honestly tell me that you trust her?”

Scrimgeour scowled, “I cannot put my feelings before my Duty to the Ministry...”

“Aha! So you _**do**_ suspect...” said Dawlish.

“What I suspect doesn’t matter,” Scrimgeour replied with a sigh. “There is no evidence... without proof that the Minister is corrupt, it is just rumours and hearsay - Dumbledore’s hearsay I might add!” Scrimgeour scowled again for emphasis.

“You should trust him on this one Rufus - no matter what you think of him personally. Dumbledore is right about Dolores. I’m telling you...” Dawlish peered at Scrimgeour beseechingly. “Just... please, Rufus, you have to open an investigation!”

Scrimgeour stood there silently for several moments, looking pensive. Then he heaved another sigh and spoke again.

“John - I’ll consider it - but I can make no promises. At the moment, I have enough to be getting on with, cleaning up this mess...” Scrimgeour waved his hand at the chaotic tableau and stalked off, up to the castle to find Dumbledore.

**~o0o~**

Rufus Scrimgeour regarded the Headmaster coldly, who was returning the Head Auror’s gaze with an inscrutable look.

“Voldemort is dead,” Dumbledore said quietly. “And hopefully, this time he will remain dead.”

Scrimgeour raised his eyebrows. “Well that is something I suppose,” he said stiffly. “Do you have proof?”

“His body lies on the lawn with the rest of the dead,” Dumbledore responded, “Voldemort’s severed head was retrieved from the lake and lies with it.”

The headmaster quieted and regarded the Auror Chief silently for a moment. Dumbledore decided that it would be wisest to leave Harry Potter’s role in the events out of it for the time-being, at least until he was certain where Scrimgeour stood. The headmaster was surprised to see a hint of satisfaction and relief on Scrimgeour’s visage.

“Good,” Scrimgeour nodded, “Very good indeed! And you’re sure that he’ll stay that way then?”

“Yes,” replied Dumbledore, “At least reasonably so. I shall be able to give you a definitive answer to that question within the next few days...”

“You may also like to know that a number of Death Eaters and numerous other escapees from Azkaban have also met their demise,” Dumbledore continued, “including Rodolphus Lestrange - though Bellatrix Lestrange unfortunately remains at large. I am uncertain as to the disposition of Rowle and Dolohov, but MacNair is dead, and Crabbe and Goyle are in our custody...”

“Really?” gasped Scrimgeour, his eyes widening, “That is good news then. Colour me impressed Dumbledore. Very well then, I shall do my utmost to ensure that you are given a fair hearing at the Ministry. This is far better than I had imagined...”

Scrimgeour began to feel more and more pleased. This was beginning to look less like a disaster and more like an occasion to be celebrated. Dumbledore saw the gleam in Scrimgeour’s eyes and decided to press his advantage.

“Scrimgeour - Rufus, I beg of you...”

“You wish me to investigate the Minister,” Rufus Scrimgeour swallowed and looked disturbed. “I know. John pressed me on the matter - I don’t know what to say. My hands are tied - I have nothing to work with...”

“So you would be willing then if you did?”

Rufus thought for a moment, then he nodded curtly, “Yes, but I shall need somewhere to begin... Albus.”

Dumbledore’s eyes sparkled, “Excellent Rufus! Then perhaps it is time that you met a former colleague of the Minister’s who is currently under my protection. Though she cannot provide you with a smoking gun, Ms Rita Skeeter can provide you with detailed knowledge about the Minister which should set you on the right path.”

**~o0o~**

Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour thanked Rita Skeeter and frowned as she departed the Headmaster’s Office. It was worse than he could have imagined. He had long suspected that the Minister had at one time been a staffer in the Department of Mysteries, but to learn that Minister Umbridge was actually the current Head of that Department - and that she had been for some time - was a shock.

That meant that Dolores Umbridge was the head of the two most powerful departments in the Ministry, as well as being Minister. And the Minister now had the Wizengamot in her pocket; she would be able to operate with total impunity. Such a situation was untenable - a political disaster in the making.

“Well, Albus, it would appear that I owe you an apology,” Scrimgeour sighed. “I am confident that you have determined the veracity of Ms Skeeter’s story.”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore nodded. “Once Ms Skeeter understood her situation, she was most forthcoming, and allowed me to take copies of her memories to verify her tale. I just wish she had something more to give us.”

“At least we now have some evidence that the Minister has been manipulating the _Daily Prophet’s_ content,” Scrimgeour responded. “Ms Skeeter has confirmed my private suspicions in that regard. That is a start at least. But I am deeply troubled...” Scrimgeour paused with an abashed look on his face.

“Albus, I feel I must warn you...” the Head Auror continued, “The Minister has directed me to turn over all captives to the Unspeakable Office for ‘further interrogations.’ Who knows how far she might go to advance her agenda?” Rufus eyed the Headmaster pointedly.

“That is grave news indeed,” Dumbledore stroked his long white beard thoughtfully. “However, not unexpected. I am also concerned regarding some other disturbing news - are the reports of Inferi with a contagious curse true?”

“Yes,” sighed Scrimgeour, “There were numerous attacks scattered around Britain last night - clean up operations are ongoing. It is not known how many Inferi have evaded us so far and passed on their curse. We are using everything we have to track their movements and eradicate them. And, needless to say, my Department is currently stretched quite thin...”

**~o0o~**

It was late afternoon when Harry woke up with Hermione snuggled under his arm. She slowly stirred as well and gazed into his green eyes.

“He’s dead Harry,” Hermione murmured. “Wormtail I mean...” A brief flicker of pain crossed Hermione’s features; Harry peered at her in concern.

“Are you alright Hermione?” asked Harry.

Hermione’s bit her lip apprehensively and she suddenly cast her eyes down.

“I... I’m not sure Harry,” Hermione replied. “I... I killed someone... I w...watched him die, and I knew that I had caused his death - intentionally. A....and, the worst part is that I didn’t feel bad about it at the time. I felt h...happy...” Hermione gasped and tears filled her eyes.

“Harry - I know Wormtail deserved it. B...but I shouldn’t feel happy that someone is dead - should I?” Hermione felt her chest tighten and heaved an anguished sob.

“Ssh Hermione,” said Harry earnestly, “I know you feel bad about it now. But it’s alright - I’m happy that Wormtail is dead too - he had it coming...”

“B....but I’m the one that did it,” Hermione sobbed again. “Doesn’t that make me evil, to... to kill someone... and... and be happy about it?”

Harry was about to respond with a vehement “no,” that feeling bad about it now proved she wasn’t evil, but someone else replied first.

“If it does, then I’d ‘ave to count myself as evil too then,” Dora had woken, after having fallen asleep in the chair beside the Potters’ bed.

Dora had heard the whole conversation. Unease had grown as she listened; the truth was that Dora was feeling as guilty as Hermione, but suddenly a feeling of conviction had surged, and she knew just what to say.

“If you were really evil, you wouldn’t even be questioning it now, Hermione. Look - you did what you ‘ad to do. If you hadn’t, ‘e woulda killed you and Jennifer - you did the right thing to protect yourselves! But beyond that, you finished someone ‘oo really deserved it. And it was personal Hermione... Wormtail made it personal - just like that piece of shite Lock’art and that vermin Greyback did!

“Their evil touched so many lives,” Dora continued. “They’re responsible for so much torment and death. There’s absolutely nothin’ wrong with bein’ ‘appy that those bastards are all dead - alright!”

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Jennifer firmly, having just woken up to hear Dora responding to Hermione. “I’m thrilled that Wormtail will never be able to hurt anyone ever again.”

“See Hermione,” Harry said quietly. “We all feel the same way. You’re not evil, nor is Dora! You _**ended**_ Evil - both of you did. It’s alright for you both to feel pleased that Wormtail and Lockhart are dead. I couldn't be happier knowing that they’re gone - and soon Voldemort will be finished for good too...”

Hermione peered at Dora and Jennifer gratefully, then returned her husband’s gaze, feeling much better.

“Thank you Harry,” she said quietly.

“No... Thank _**you**_ Hermione! Thanks for ending Wormtail!” Harry’s own eyes had grown watery, and his breath caught as his heart lurched. “And th...thanks for staying alive. I couldn’t bear to be without you Hermione...”

“I love you too Harry,” Hermione softly returned, drawing Harry closer and kissing him deeply.

**~o0o~**

Severus Snape took a seat across from the headmaster, wondering why he had been called to Dumbledore’s office after Dumbledore’s meeting with Scrimgeour. What could be so important that Dumbledore needed to see him in private? Dumbledore and Snape looked at one another for a moment before the headmaster broke the silence.

“I have a task for you Severus... It is a task which I believe you are best suited to complete. Soon we will have the last horcrux in hand and I wish to find a means of ridding Harry of Voldemort’s soul-fragment once and for all. Only then will Voldemort truly be finished...”

“Why me?” asked Snape. “Surely Filius’s skill set or Poppy’s are more suited for Harry’s needs.”

“Because I believe that Harry’s best chance to achieve this goal lies within himself...” 

“Wouldn’t that make your talent the most appropriate then?” Snape raised one eyebrow.

“Certainly Legilimency could give me some insight which might be of use to Harry, but as a Legilimens yourself, you know as well as I do that there is little that either you or I can do to give Harry the tools he needs. He must go deep within himself - to travel beyond even the world of dreams - to reach the inner-most reality which lies only in his soul.

“For Harry to accomplish that will require something that no ordinary magic can provide - it will require something powerful enough to lay his soul bare that he may touch the face of the ineffable - whilst yet leaving him conscious enough to assert his Will and Intent on his inner-quest. 

“It is true that there are methods which might accomplish this known to both wizards and muggles alike in the Orient... but those methods require years - perhaps even decades - to learn. Neither Harry or we have the luxury to wait that long to finish Voldemort.”

Snape’s nostrils flared in sudden understanding.

“Perhaps Liberty Caps then,” Snape suggested. “I have some in my storeroom.”

“I think Harry will need something far more potent than the mushrooms available to us in Britain.” Dumbledore reached into his desk drawer and retrieved a book. “This recently came into my possession. If its claims are true, I believe it holds some answers...”

“I have not heard of this wizard... McKenna,” said Snape, dubiously glancing at the cover. Snape’s eyebrows popped up in surprise when he flicked through first pages inside the book cover. “The preliminary page indicates that this is a recent _muggle_ publication.”

“Quite so,” said the headmaster, his eyes twinkling. “It is indeed a remarkable true story about a man’s journey into the deepest Amazon, where he encounters a tribe of indigenous peoples - most of them clearly non-magical, yet well aware of the magical properties of certain mushrooms and other magical plants. 

No doubt the wizards in their small societies are openly incorporated into their communities without any regard for strictures such as the International Statute of Secrecy - most likely due to the fact that they by and large remain isolated from the larger world. In any case, those who live in these small communities produce a potion based upon the Caapi vine and the Viridis leaf...”

“Caapi vine and Viridis leaf?” If Snape was surprised before, he was even more so now. “Those items are... quite rare - and unobtainable in Britain. I would have to travel...”

“To the Amazon... Yes!” Dumbledore nodded in agreement. “I wish you to acquire some - enough to brew the potion. You will need to study the recipe and be able to replicate it - though I expect it will require some adjustments to stabilise the experience... And I would trust none other but you, Severus, to do so.”

**~o0o~**

Everyone was pleased when the Potters, Luna, and Jennifer were finally released from the Hospital Wing the following morning. Harry was famished and dug into his scrambled eggs and sausage voraciously. He stiffened when he saw Theodore Nott enter the Great Hall and nearly choked on his piece of sausage. Harry finished chewing and swallowed carefully, washing it down with some tea.

“What’s _**he**_ doing here?” Harry growled.

“Theodore saved my life Harry,” Luna replied. “He’s very sorry for what he did now...”

“But...”

“It’s true Harry,” interjected Parvati, who still looked unsettled. 

“Nott turned himself in to Dumbledore... promised to go back to prison if he had to,” said Ginny, who was more than a bit skeptical herself. Still, if Luna said it was true that he was sorry, Ginny was willing to take her at her word.

“He **_what?”_** Harry gasped. He couldn’t believe it - Nott, of all people, turning over a new leaf.

“And Dumbledore said that promising to go back to prison showed character,” Luna responded. “He’s considering allowing Theodore to come back to Hogwarts instead... if we - us - especially Daphne - agree that he should get another chance. Dumbledore’s giving us the final say...”

“Wow... that’s... er... good!?” Harry glanced at Hermione in perplex.

Hermione peered at Nott and took a good long look.

“I think Nott is sincere Harry,” said Hermione after a few moments passed. “He looks really sad and remorseful at the moment.”

Harry looked at Luna who peered back hopefully. He glanced at Ginny who started to shrug; then she sighed and nodded affirmatively.

“Yeah Harry - he deserves another chance,” said Ginny.

Harry next gazed questioningly into Daphne’s eyes. “What about you Daphne? He helped Malfoy...”

“I think Nott should get a second chance Harry,” said Daphne. “He saved Luna’s life - I think he means it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure...” Daphne answered firmly. “Nott could have just made a run for it, but he didn’t. He came back to take responsibility.”

Harry looked around the table at the others. Dora, Jennifer, Neville, and Viktor appeared to be cautiously in agreement.

“Well,” Harry sighed, “If you all think that Nott deserves another shot, then I suppose he should come back to Hogwarts. I'll tell Dumbledore what we’ve decided after breakfast.”

**~o0o~**

“Very well then,” said the headmaster as he peered proudly over the top of his half-moon spectacles at Harry and Hermione in his office when breakfast was finished, “I shall inform Mr Theodore Nott that he will be reinstated at Hogwarts on a probationary status at the beginning of term.”

“Now,” Dumbledore continued, his eyes gleaming slightly, “I have something else to discuss - finishing Tom Riddle forever. I have the location of the last horcrux...”

“You do?” Harry interrupted with a gasp.

“You found Hufflepuff’s Cup?” said Hermone, equally surprised.

“Indeed I did,” Dumbledore replied with twinkling eyes. “I gleaned it from Voldemort’s mind in his last moments... And I believe Harry’s talents will come in quite handy - as it resides in Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault at Gringotts. 

“And if I am not mistaken, Harry’s metamorphmagus abilities are advanced enough that he should be able to convincingly take Bellatrix’s place... and his connection to Voldemort should make short work of locating the Cup within the vault in question.”

Harry’s jaw dropped and Hermione was stunned.

“I... I’ve never really seen her,” Harry muttered, “I mean I have, in pictures... but I’d really need a good look at her in person to pull it off properly.”

“Quite so Harry!” Dumbledore nodded. “That is why I have Mr Longbottom’s and Miss Weasley’s memories of their recent encounter with her for you to study in the pensieve at length...”

“What about me?” asked Hermione, looking very worried. “Harry will need me to carry the Cup won’t he? ... because of the pain horcruxes cause him?” Then another troubling thought occurred to her. “Are we stealing it from Gringotts then?”

“One question at a time Mrs Potter,” Dumbledore began, smiling reassuringly. “Actually I was indeed about to recommend that you join Harry, under his invisibility cloak. 

“As to the matter of stealing... technically, we will be stealing only from Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault. I have spoken with Ragnok, and he has consulted with the Chairman of Gringotts. They have no more desire to see Tom Riddle return than we do - nor do they wish Gringotts to be associated with harbouring a Wizard Artifact of such a Dark Nature.

“I admit, they were reticent at first, not wishing to undo Gringotts’ sterling reputation for protecting the property and the rights of their clients - but they eventually agreed with my request. Though, for the sake of avoiding the appearance of impropriety, they have agreed to allow a member of the Order to enter the Lestrange vault _**only**_ if disguised as Bellatrix herself.

“We have Bellatrix’s wand which you will need to present. And Bellatrix, being gravely injured and a fugitive, will have gone to ground... She will not be able to complicate things if we move quickly - within the next few days.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks in silent communication.

“Right then,” said Harry resolutely, after seeing Hermione’s agreement in her eyes. “Let’s do this sir... When do we go?”

“As soon as you have perfected your disguise Harry,” Dumbledore replied. “You may begin practice tomorrow morning when I take you both inside Mr Longbottom’s and Miss Weasley’s memories to view Bellatrix Lestrange.”

**~o0o~**

Minister Dolores Umbridge scowled as she sipped a nightcap alone. Voldemort’s sudden demise at Dumbledore’s hands was not entirely unwelcome - but it presented its own set of problems. Dolores had got quite far capitalising on the Wizard World’s fear of the Dark Lord’s mad excesses. He had been convenient as a scapegoat, and had kept the headmaster of Hogwarts too distracted to undermine her administration.

The Minister was also perturbed that Rufus Scrimgeour had insisted upon retaining custody of Crabbe and Goyle, having claimed their usefulness to ongoing investigations of escaped Death Eaters who possibly remained at large. 

Dolores sighed and drained the rest of her snifter, plunking it on the table. She could have over-ruled Scrimgeour of course, but it only made sense to give him first crack the Minister supposed. It would not do to allow any Death Eaters still loyal to a martyred Voldemort to continue running loose... unless they swore their fealty to her; and it would keep Scrimgeour happy to think that he still had a position of authority within the DMLE. 

Still, the Unspeakable office had Avery and Rabastan, not to mention numerous Snatchers. They would be enough to complete her plans. With their cooperation - willing or not - in telling the story which Dolores wanted told, Hogwarts could be hers in a matter of weeks. And she would have Crabbe and Goyle soon enough in any case.

Then Dolores could finally begin implementing the next phase of her programme and pardon Lucius Malfoy’s son. Adjusting herself to the situation, satisfied that all was progressing as it should be, Dolores poured herself another brandy.

**~o0o~**

Harry gave Hermione a gentle kiss when they settled down for the night in their own bed. It was well after one am, long past the time that Madam Pomfrey had instructed her patients to take their potions and get a proper night’s sleep.

Harry had reluctantly swallowed his nasty tasting organ-replenishing potion earlier that evening for the third night in a row after Hermione reminded him that he ought to. Then they had both taken sleeping draughts, but Harry and Hermione were still awake, keyed up with anticipation.

“We’ll be able to spend a night or two at home and see Mum again in a couple of days Hermione.”

“I can’t wait Harry,” Hermione beamed. “I know we still have the Minister to deal with. But we’re finally going to be completely free of that horrid Tom Riddle - well, at least we will after we finish off the bit of his soul attached to yours Harry. You won’t have to stay in the same home as your Aunt when Voldemort is completely gone...”

“Oh... yeah!” Harry nodded. He had forgotten about that. “Well, Aunt Petunia and Dudley are probably still safer being where the Minister can’t find them - but I bet they’re both going stir-crazy shut up in that house. Maybe I should send them on holiday somewhere safe... out of the country for a bit.”

“That’s a very sweet idea Harry,” Hermione agreed, burrowing into Harry’s shoulder as he stroked her tawny curls. “Maybe we could send Mum and Auntie Joanne somewhere abroad too? They might like a change of scenery. Then they wouldn’t need Abbie Brixton to look after them either...”

“Brilliant... We could have the whole house to ourselves Hermione!” said Harry excitedly. “Madam Bones and Susan won’t have to worry about Voldemort anymore either - it should be safe enough for them to go back to their own homes. Dora and Fleur will have room to stay, and we’ll be able to invite the others to visit if they want to...”

“Mmmhmm,” Hermione responded sleepily.

Harry and Hermione drifted off in each other’s arms as the sleeping draughts finally kicked in, both dreaming happily of being at home.


	49. The Illuminated One and the Dragon

Severus Snape began laying out clothes and readying his traveling bags. It was quite likely that he would be in the Amazon for several days, and he was rather looking forward to a change of scenery and the opportunity to work with a potion new to him. 

It was only when he had finished packing that he remembered that it was time for Lupin’s potion. Snape made his way to the staff-room where he found Lupin planning a lesson and an exam for Jennifer Watts.

“Ah, there you are,” said Lupin when Snape entered. He took the steaming mug from the Potions Master. “Thank you Severus.”

Lupin took a large gulp. His eyes bulged and his face turned red. He gasped and sputtered, spraying Wolfsbane Potion everywhere. 

“Stop... don’t drink any more of that,” Snape hissed.

“You... don’t... have to tell me twice...” Lupin wheezed. “I’m used to it tasting vile... but it’s never been like drinking acid...”

“Fortunately, the burning sensation appears to be largely a sensory reaction. I am seeing only mild inflammation...” Snape said as he examined Lupin’s mouth. “Perhaps a visit with Madam Pomfrey would be in order.”

“Don’t you know what’s wrong?” Lupin asked in surprise. “You probably know more about the potion than anyone living or dead...”

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with the potion,” snapped the Potions Professor. “There is something wrong with... _you!”_ Snape concluded in a puzzled tone.

“If I didn’t know better,” Snape continued, with a more concerned expression, “I would say that you no longer carry the werewolf curse. Only fully human Wizards have the reactions you just reported. To those without the Werewolf Curse, the potion presents a sensation of acidity upon the tongue.”

“But that’s impossible!” gasped Lupin.

“Precisely!” said Snape, raising an eyebrow, “ _That_ is why we should be consulting with Madam Pomfrey...”

“Yes... yes of course,” Lupin muttered as he followed Snape to the Hospital Wing.

A strange thought crossed Remus Lupin’s mind; it seemed too ridiculous to be credible. But no matter how hard he tried to ignore the notion, he began to wonder if being “attacked” by Harry and Hermione’s Patronuses had anything to do with it.

The idea seemed ludicrous on its face. Nobody had ever heard of Patroni curing Lycanthropy before. But Remus had been feeling different ever since he had been caught in the shockwaves of Patronus light and been bowled over by the etheric stag and doe. In fact, he felt more than just different...

Remus felt great.

Remus felt better than he could ever remember feeling since his childhood - since before he had been attacked and turned into a werewolf by Fenrir Greyback. He felt as if a shroud had been lifted from his soul, and as if his brain and body were swept clean. He felt fantastic.

**~o0o~**

Morphing into Bellatrix Lestrange proved harder than Harry would have thought, and it took several days to get it just right. He picked up her outer physical characteristics quickly enough, but adjusting his voice, mannerisms, and behaviour to match hers was another matter altogether.

Fortunately, Hermione was a good coach. She witnessed Neville’s and Ginny’s memories with Harry as they replayed them dozens of times - sometimes pausing and focusing on a particular trait.

“Perfect,” said Hermione when Harry’s vocal adjustments finally achieved the correct tone. “Now, you’ve got to think about how she acts towards those she sees as subordinates - Bellatrix treats her underlings poorly and she behaves like a petty tyrant. Did you see how she snapped at the Snatcher...?”

Harry nodded and sighed, not keen on the idea of having to be rude to Goblins, even though that’s what they would no doubt be expecting. He was glad that at least Ragnok and the Chairman of Gringotts were in on it. It wasn't like he and Hermione were really stealing from Gringotts if two of its most Senior Officers were helping them, was it?

“So you’ll have to sneer a lot and look down your nose at everyone,” Hermione continued, “Do that, and then you’ll sound just like her...”

“Do you think you can manage it?” Hermione asked with concern when Harry didn’t respond right away.

Harry’s stomach lurched at the idea of actually trying to get inside Bellatrix Lestrange's head, but then a thought occurred to him and he laughed.

“Yeah... actually I think I can. I’ll pretend I’m Malfoy talking to Crabbe or Goyle when they’re being particularly stupid,” Harry chortled. “That should work...”

Harry practiced sneering for a while until Hermione was in stitches.

“That’s brilliant Harry,” Hermione giggled. “Now it’s time to try your Bellatrix impression on Sirius.”

When Sirius roared with laughter and gave his seal of approval to Harry’s portrayal of Bellatrix, Harry knew he was ready to go.

Harry and Hermione packed a few things in overnight bags as Dumbledore had agreed that they could stay a day or two at Number 12 once the job was complete. When they were finished, they spent the evening with the rest of their friends in a new room in the corridor of the Unaffiliated.

The room had been magically provided by the headmaster at the insistence of Sirius and Professor McGonagall, who were both keen on providing a private space for the Potters and their friends to congregate in, as they didn’t have a proper Common Room of their own.

When the Potters entered their unofficial “Common Room” they discovered Dora and Jennifer both sitting at the grand piano in the corner of the room and giggling as they tickled the ivories together. Luna and Ginny were trying to coax Parvati into singing along while the others lounged nearby on the sofa and in the poofy armchairs.

Not wishing to interrupt, Harry quietly sat in one of the cozy armchairs with Hermione on his lap letting the joy of the moment wash over them. Ginny turned around when she noticed that Harry and Hermione had silently settled in.

“Hey you two,” said Ginny with a grin. “Going to spend a few days in London with your family to celebrate then?”

“Bit early for a celebration really,” Harry retorted, returning Ginny’s grin. “We’ll have to save it for when we get back if everything goes alright...” 

“‘If everything goes alright’...? What do you mean, Harry?” asked Neville.

“Er...” said Harry, suddenly realising what he’d just let slip. Not sure if Dumbledore meant it to remain a secret - even from their friends - he glanced at Hermione beseechingly. Fortunately, Hermione seemed to think it was alright to tell them and took over.

“Actually we’re sort of going on a mission,” said Hermione, launching into lecture mode. “You all know that Voldemort keeps managing to come back somehow after he’s supposedly been killed. Well, it’s because he found a way to split his soul into pieces and hide them in certain artifacts. As long as those bits of soul are alive, they keep him from dying completely.

“Anyway, Harry and I have been helping Dumbledore track the artifacts down and kill the bit of soul inside them. We’ve managed to get most of them...”

“The Diary that Harry found in Myrtle’s bathroom...” Parvati gasped. “That was one of them wasn’t it?”

“Yes!” Ginny answered before Hermione had a chance to reply. “The piece of Voldemort in the diary possessed me in my first year. That’s how the Chamber of Secrets was opened...”

“That’s right,” Hermione agreed. “Anyway, there’s only one left and Dumbledore found out where it is - in Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault in Gringotts. Harry’s going to use his metamorphmagus powers to turn into Bellatrix and we’re going to get it...”

“Wait, Harry can turn into a girl now?” gasped Daphne. 

“Oh yeah. You and Parvati ‘aven’t heard yet,” said Dora. “Harry’s a metamorphmagus like me... and yeah, he can turn into a girl.”

Daphne’s mind boggled; Parvati’s jaw dropped and then her eyes began to gleam.

“Ooooh, Harry, let us see,” begged Parvati, _“Please!?”_

“What... er... right now?” Harry gulped. “Here...?”

“Why not?” Luna grinned. “It’s your common room, and nobody else can get in unless you let them.”

Harry glanced at Hermione. It was entirely up to him. Harry grinned nervously as he peered at all the girls’ eager faces. But Harry flushed when he glanced questioningly in Neville and Viktor’s direction. Viktor was very curious to witness Harry’s transformation, but seeing Harry’s discomfort, Viktor tugged on Neville’s sleeve.

“Come! Ve go Neville... I think this moment for girls only.” 

Neville breathed a sigh of relief as he followed Viktor out of the room, feeling as awkward as he imagined that Harry would feel to transform in front of guys. 

“Right then, here goes,” said Harry, steeling himself once Neville and Viktor had left. “Sorry about my clothes... they’ll look a bit funny on a girl...”

“Don’t worry about those Harry. It’ll give me a chance to practice my transfiguration,” giggled Hermione as she waved her wand. “Everyone, this is Harret.”

Harry’s clothes transfigured as he morphed into Harriet. Harriet groaned when she realised that she was now wearing a snugly fitted dress with a short skirt which was the same iridescent green as her rolling eyes. Hermione had obviously been preparing a spell just for such an opportunity. Harriet blushed furiously, but couldn’t help snorting with laughter in a most unladylike manner and shaking her head.

“Oh wow! You’re adorable!” Parvati squealed gleefully.

“You look very lovely, Harriet,” said Luna, beaming brightly

“Oui, vairy charmante indeed, Harriet,” tittered Fleur

Daphne practically pounced on Harriet. “As a girl, you’re close enough in size to try some of our clothes on...”

Parvati chortled. “I agree with Daphne. How about a little fashion show Harriet?”

“Oi... I’m not your dolly,” Harriet laughed. Inside, Harriet groaned, desperately hoping that Daphne’s ideas were soon forgotten. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun Harriet,” Luna giggled.

Hermione tried vainly to hide a smirk. Dora managed to look both sympathetic and curious all at once.

“Alright, _**okay!**_ Maybe next time - when we get back,” Harriet moaned, palming her face. “I have to get up early tomorrow...”

**~o0o~**

“Tell me why this is a good idea again?” Bellatrix Lestrange nervously asked Hermione as they prepared to step into the fireplace of Number Twelve’s parlour. Hermione closed her eyes and kissed Bellatrix.

“Harry, you’ll be just fine!” Hermione reassured the young Metamorphmagus, “Gringotts Bank is Sovereign Territory. The Ministry has no jurisdiction there. Aurors can’t arrest you even if they’re standing right next to you...”

Harry felt a lot more relaxed after sharing a kiss with Hermione, but he was still anxious as it was he who was impersonating a dangerous fugitive - the ex-consort of the more-or-less dead, once again defeated Lord Voldemort.

“...unless the goblins turn me in,” the former-wizard-now-witch-who-looked-exactly-like-Bellatrix-Lestrange grumbled. “Yeah, I know Hermione - the Chairman of Gringotts and Ragnok have approved this operation. But I still don’t like it.

“What if the other goblins catch us in the act and call in the Aurors? Obviously the Chairman and Ragnok must think that the rest of Gringotts’ Board of Directors wouldn’t approve if they’re only willing to let us get the last Horcrux through subterfuge...”

Hermione sighed and bit her lip anxiously. It was all well and good having a positive attitude, but there was no getting around the truth.

“You’re absolutely right Harry... er...Harriet? Bother it, I’m not sure what to call you. I mean you’re obviously a witch, but you’re not really Bellatrix, nor Harriet at the moment...”

“It’s alright, Hermione! I’m perfectly fine with Harry when I’m not in Harriet form, even if I am a witch at the moment. Anyway, you were saying...”

“Right then...” said Hermione, feeling a bit better. “It is still risky. Obviously the Chairman and Ragnok want some measure of plausible denial for Gringotts Bank as a business entity should anything go wrong. They have a strong reputation for protecting their clients’ interests at all costs to maintain...”

 _ **“Exactly!”**_ exclaimed Harry-Bellatrix sourly. “As long as they can blame us if we get caught, they don’t care...”

“Maybe,” Hermione interjected, “but you have to realise Harry, the Chairman and Ragnok have both put themselves on the block too - If we get caught, their careers are finished, and they would probably end up in a goblin prison.”

“Oh!” Harry-Bellatrix took pause. “I hadn’t thought of that... Yeah, I suppose I can take some comfort in knowing that those two really don’t want us to get nabbed then.”

Harry-Bellatrix snorted and shook her head resignedly “Alright then, I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be... How do I look Hermione? I feel really weird in this dress...”

Hermione gave Harry-Bellatrix a once-over. Hermione flushed slightly. There was something about Bellatrix Lestrange’s black dress with its cleavage revealing low-cut top, its leather straps, and witchy collar, which sent little shivers through Hermione - not entirely unpleasant shivers. She crossly suppressed the feeling.

“You look like Bellatrix,” Hermione said brusquely. “Now don’t forget to sneer...”

Hermione began to fling the invisibility cloak over herself, but Harry-Bellatrix stopped her.

“Wait... close your eyes again Hermione,” Harry said softly in his own voice. A calmness had settled over him, and he could see that Hermione was just as agitated and nervous as he was.

“Whatever happens, I just want you to remember this...” Harry whispered, before kissing Hermione with Bellatrix Lestrange’s lips once more.

Hermione felt a warm glow swell inside her as the kiss deepened. Somehow, she knew that everything was alright - she could deal with whatever came their way as long as she was with Harry, whatever form he took. When the kiss was finished, Hermione stepped back and grinned with a naughty golden gleam in her big brown eyes.

“Harry, when this is over... I want that dress.”

Harry’s chortle turned into a cackle as his voice became Bellatrix Lestrange’s once again, and Hermione disappeared inside his invisibility cloak. Harry flung a handful of floo powder into the grate and stepped into the green flames with his invisible wife as he called out their destination clearly.

“Gringotts Bank, London Office, VIP Entrance...”

**~o0o~**

The odd assortment of muggles and wizards sitting around the kitchen table of Number 12 Grimmauld Place regarded the Headmaster keenly, looking for signs of anything which would indicate knowledge of the outcome of the Potters’ mission. Dumbledore sipped his tea, returning everyone’s gaze serenely.

As the kitchen clock’s hands slowly crawled by, Harry Potter's cousin Dudley grew fidgety.

“I’m bored Mum, can I watch the telly?” asked Dudley.

In truth, Dudley was extremely anxious that something bad was going to happen to Harry, and he wanted a distraction. Petunia glanced at Jean who was frowning slightly at the inappropriateness of Dudley’s interruption.

Hermione’s Auntie Joanne sighed. She could see immediately that her sister Jean was too wrapped up in her own anxiety about Hermione and her son-in-law to see what Dudley was going through at the moment.

“Go on dear,” Joanne said to Dudley gently. “Don’t mind the rest of us. Why don’t you go watch the television for a bit too, Susan dear...” Joanne turned to look at Susan Bones who was sitting next to her Aunt Amelia, “there’s no need for all of us to sit here like a load of lumpkins worrying ourselves silly.”

Petunia nodded gratefully at Joanne as Dudley slipped out of the kitchen. Susan glanced at her own Aunt. Madam Bones nodded her assent and Susan followed Dudley to the parlour.

The clock continued to tick interminably, and Moody began to drum his fingers on the kitchen table until Abbie Brixton glowered at him. Moody wanted to curse and rant; the Potters should have been back by now. But he didn’t want to upset Hermione’s mother so he just sighed. 

Severus Snape sat in silence, his features inscrutable despite his weariness and the tension. He had returned from the Amazon the previous morning and spent the last twenty four hours preparing the potion until he was certain it would work as intended.

Suddenly there was a clattering of footsteps coming from the stairwell and Susan burst into the kitchen.

“Come quickly, something weird is going on...” Susan gasped, “The BBC is showing something flying over London - it looks like a dragon. The Muggle news shouldn't have dragons... should it?”

Dumbledore sighed and followed everyone to the parlour to watch the television; even the best laid plans could be spoiled when dragons were involved. Dumbledore peered at his hand-mirror hopefully and after another ten minutes had passed, he was rewarded when he heard his name being called and spied Hermione Potter’s disheveled visage in the glass.

**~o0o~**

Everything seemed to go well at first. None of the goblins dared to question Bellatrix Lestrange when she appeared in the VIP Fireplace and entered the main lobby of Gringotts. Harry couldn’t decide if the goblins were scared of Bellatrix, or just didn’t care that she was an escaped convict. They didn’t even bother to ask for Bellatrix’s wand.

Hermione stayed close to Harry-Bellatrix, under the invisibility cloak, hoping that nobody would bump into her. She and Harry were both startled when a witch grabbed Harry-Bellatrix’s arm.

“Oh my goodness, Bellatrix! How delightful to see you again after all these years... and looking ravishing as always. Clearly Azkaban didn’t do you any harm.”

Harry-Bellatrix looked wildly around for escape, but the witch seemed to be following their direction. He wasn’t certain that a sneer would be enough to put off the witch pawing at him. Harry surmised that the witch must be an old friend of Bellatrix.

“Er... I’m sorry. I’m dreadfully busy right now...” Harry-Bellatrix said curtly as she followed an old goblin named Bogrod to the vaults.

“Oh, no matter,” said the other witch cheerily, “Griphook and I are going to the vaults as well. We shall have all the time in the world to catch up on things. Surely it hasn’t been so long that you’ve forgotten that the Carrow vaults are right next to your own?”

“Alecto,” Hermione whispered directly into Harry-Bellatrix’s other ear.

Harry started when Hermione hissed the name in his ear. He didn’t know how Hermione knew, but he was sure that she was right. In any case, he had no time to challenge the information.

“Of... of course I haven’t forgotten - Alecto!” Harry inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that the witch accepted the name without hesitation.

The heavy iron doors to the vaults shut behind Harry-Bellatrix and Alecto Carrow as they followed the goblins to the carts which would take them to the lowest levels.

“Well, I see no reason not to share a cart then,” Alecto said with a husky voice as she leaned closer and took the arm of the witch whom she believed to be Bellatrix.

Harry-Bellatrix swallowed nervously as realisation dawned on him. If he wasn’t mistaken, Alecto and Bellatrix had at one time been intimate with each other. Harry groaned inwardly, wishing that Hermione was the metamorphmagus and that he was under the invisibility cloak. He had no idea how he was supposed to talk to a past lover not seen in well over a decade.

“Er... after you,” Harry-Bellatrix offered Alecto.

There was just enough room for Harry-Bellatrix to sit next to Alecto in the cart while the invisible Hermione sat squashed between him and the side with the door. The two Goblins clambered onto the front seats and settled in for the ride. Griphook turned around and glanced at the two witches, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

Harry needn’t have worried; Alecto carried the whole conversation during the entire trip through the labyrinthine tunnels under Gringotts. And some of the discussion turned out to be quite informative. Shortly before reaching their final destination, Alecto dropped the bombshell.

“Well, my dear Bella, I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you survived the Dark Lord’s misguided attempt to take Hogwarts by force. I was quite concerned when I heard that most of Azkaban’s Death Eaters met their unfortunate ends... as was Dolores.

“Believe me, the Minister has no desire to see the Blood of the Pure spilled - and Dolores has a much better plan for revitalising Wizarding Britain and restoring Hogwarts to its former glory. Soon it will be time for all of the halfbloods to learn that their place in the natural order of things is to glorify the purest among us, and the Mudbloods will be purged from our race.

“I have a message for you from Dolores herself which you will not see in the headlines of the _Daily Prophet_ , nor hear on WWN. The Minister is offering a full-pardon to all Death Eaters and Snatchers who turn themselves in and agree to follow her lead. She is most pleased that you were not found among the dead at Hogwarts, and is hopeful that you will join her...”

“Er... yeah! Maybe...” mumbled Harry-Bellatrix. Thankfully the cart finally came to a halt and Bogrod called out Bellatrix’s name.

“My stop,” gasped Harry-Bellatrix, eager to escape. She managed to get the door open and let invisible Hermione out of the cart unnoticed, before stepping onto the platform herself. Bogrod opened Bellatrix’s vault and stood patiently next to the open door.

Alecto climbed out of the cart as well and took Bellatrix’s arm as if to enter the vault with her. Harry couldn’t think what to do. Under the invisibility cloak Hermione began to panic. She performed the first spell she could think of and whispered, “Imperio,” three times.

Harry-Bellatrix was surprised when Alecto’s eyes glazed over, and the two goblins stared blankly. Hermione whipped off the invisibility cloak and darted into Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault, quivering with agitation.

“Quickly Harry,” Hermione moaned, “We don’t have much time. I’ve never performed that curse before, and I doubt it’ll hold very long...”

“Never mind Hermione,” Harry-Bellatrix responded gratefully. “That was brilliant. I couldn’t think what to do at all...”

“Can you feel the horcrux Harry?”

Harry nodded, gritting his teeth as his scar throbbed and burned. As they entered the vault his knees wobbled slightly and Hermione lit her wand. 

Moving further in, he and Hermione were taken aback by the massive amount of all sorts of things: piles upon piles of galleons and gold ingots, heaping mounds of jewelry and precious gems, covered paintings, odd items such as the skins of strange creatures, a skull wearing a crown, swords and armour, and crystal vials of potions and what unnervingly appeared to be blood. 

But as the pain increased, Harry knew they were drawing nearer. He looked up and groaned. 

“That’s it up there Hermione.”

A jewel encrusted golden goblet glittered in Hermione’s wandlight at the top of a high shelf. Harry-Bellatrix would have to climb over armour and shields to reach it. He remembered the instructions which had been passed on from Ragnok, that Harry could touch nothing but the item he had come for.

Suddenly, Harry realised that he was floating up towards the cup and he glanced back at Hermione who was aiming her wand at him. He quickly grabbed the cup and Hermione lowered him back down.

“Thanks Hermione,” Harry-Bellatrix gasped, passing the cup to Hermione who quickly thrust it into a satchel. “I’m glad you remembered wingardium leviosa... It’s bloody hard to think clearly when I’m this close to a horcrux.”

“I was going to use levicorpus from Snape’s book, but then I thought you might prefer not dangling upside down by your ankle...”

“You thought right,” Harry-Bellatrix agreed as she dragged Hermione out of the vault. “Now we’ve just got to figure out how to get out of here before...”

It was too late. Griphook had shrugged off the Imperius Curse mere moments before Harry-Bellatrix had exited the vault. Griphook was nowhere to be seen, and many voices could be heard approaching in the distance. Only the still imperiused Bogrod and Alecto Carrow remained, oblivious to everything. 

Hermione threw the invisibility cloak over herself and grabbed Harry’s hand. Together they ran the opposite direction from the nearing voices. 

The corridor they had dashed into opened up into a cavern which they had spied from the cart as it trundled down to the last, deepest vaults under Gringotts. And chained up in the cavern was a pale, sad looking dragon. They both whirled around to find another way, but goblins and wizard security guards cut off their escape.

There was only one way out now.

“Hermione,” Harry-Bellatrix whispered to thin air, “do you trust me?”

“Of course Harry,” Hermione whispered back.

“Then climb up on the back of the dragon, now!”

Hermione didn’t question Harry’s mad idea. She just did as she was told and clambered up the steely scales onto the dragon’s back while Harry-Bellatrix fired several stunners at the yelling goblins and the wizards who returned fire, angering the dragon.

Harry-Bellatrix aimed her wand at the shackles which kept the dragon chained up and they shattered under the impact of her releasing spells. She leapt onto the dragon and hauled herself onto the dragon’s back right behind where she believed Hermione to be.

“Are you still there Hermione?” Harry-Bellatrix shouted over the roaring dragon.

“Yes,” Hermione squeaked.

“Hold on tight then, I think...”

But Harry-Bellatrix didn’t get a chance to get another word out. The bellowing dragon let loose a burst of flame at the wizards shooting spells, and the goblins, scattering them. It took every ounce of strength just to keep hold of the horned ridges along the dragon’s spine as it unfurled and angrily whipped its tail, sweeping aside another group of goblins and wizards.

With another thunderous outburst, the dragon began to blast and claw its way up through the rocky tunnels to the surface. At intervals, Harry and Hermione aimed their own explosive spells to help the dragon widen the passage and finally it burst furiously through the heavy iron doors which led to the enormous main lobby of the bank.

Sensing the outside world near, the dragon reared up and leapt, spreading its wings. It soared and crashed straight through the ceiling as wizards and goblins ran screaming to avoid the falling debris.

Ragnok peered out of the door of his office in horror. This was almost a disaster. As he watched the dragon vanish into the clouds above London through the gaping hole in Gringotts’ ceiling, Ragnok did manage a small sigh of relief.

At least the cover story had remained intact. Now, the worst that anyone could say was that Bellatrix Lestrange had gone barmy while visiting her own vault and stolen a dragon.

**~o0o~**

Hermione screamed and shut her eyes as she clung for dear life to the jutting bony ridges along the dragon’s spine as the ceiling of Gringotts crashed about her. Splintering beams of wood, chunks of plaster, and shards of roof tile rained down on Hermione. She cursed inwardly, wishing that she hadn’t reminded Harry to remove the tattoos after they had been released from the Hospital Wing several days ago. Nor had either of them considered that they might be necessary for this particular mission.

Moments later the pale dragon soared above Gringotts, its great wings beating the air heavily as it blinked uncertainly, its eyes unused to the sunlight after many years held captive underground. Hermione opened her eyes finally, her heart thumping in her ears over the roar of the rushing wind. She spied Big Ben and the river Thames below and shut them tight again.

The dragon swooped over Westminster Bridge and caught an updraft, sailing up through the clouds. Finally the dragon settled into a steady flight pattern and Hermione managed to barely collect herself enough to tug off the flapping invisibility cloak with one hand and stuff it inside her blazer.

Harry-Bellatrix gasped with relief when he saw Hermione reappear, her bushy hair whipping in the wind just ahead of him. He had caught glimpses of her feet as the dragon had burst through the roof of Gringotts, but he had been deathly afraid that Hermione might be injured.

Harry wanted to return to his boy form, but then he remembered that he really wouldn’t fit Bellatrix’s dress properly. Hermione glanced back to see if Harry was still there. Harry-Bellatrix caught Hermione’s terrified eyes and tear streaked face.

Harry decided that it was reasonably safe. The dragon seemed to be flying steadily enough. Carefully, Harry-Bellatrix crawled up the dragon’s back until she was pressed right up against Hermione with one arm curled tightly around her trembling figure. Hermione instantly wrapped one of her own arms around Harry-Bellatrix’s waist.

“I’ve got you Hermione,” Harry said in his own voice, kissing her clammy wet cheeks. “I won’t let you go.”

Feeling Harry next to her, even in Bellatrix’s form, Hermione began to calm down. She had been chilled by the wind and dampness of the clouds, but now Harry’s warmth spread through her and her breathing slowed.

Hermione closed her eyes and pressed her own lips against Harry-Bellatrix’s cheek. It suddenly occurred to Harry that there was something else he could do to comfort Hermione, despite not being able to return to his boy-form just yet.

Hermione opened her eyes again and stared gratefully into Harriet’s glittering green ones. Finally Hermione could speak.

“Th...thank you Harry... sorry... I mean Harriet. I f...feel much better now.”

“Good,” said Harriet, smiling softly, pressing her forehead against Hermione’s, “Because we did it Hermione. We’ve got the last horcrux... Now all we have to do is work out how to get off this dragon before the RAF send jets after us.”

“I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that Harriet. They should only be able to find us by line of sight now. I think Dragons probably have a number of natural defences which make them invisible to radar.”

“Really? How’d you work that out?”

“Well, to begin with, I’m almost certain that modern muggles would have rediscovered dragons despite the best efforts of wizards to keep their existence secret if dragons didn’t have their own means of avoiding radar tracking. It would be impossible for dragons to exist in the wild otherwise,” Hermione replied.

“It’s quite likely that dragons produce their own magical energy field which scramble electromagnetic signals. And it’s also a possibility that their scales and hide might have properties which absorb the signals - like stealth fighters.”

“Oh... yeah!” Harriet nodded thoughtfully, “That makes sense. So we’re alright as long as there’s a fair bit of cloud cover then?”

“I should think so. But you’re right, we’ll still need to get off the dragon sooner or later. Maybe Dumbledore has an idea...”

“Can you reach your hand-mirror then?” Harriet asked.

“Yes... I...I think so - as long as you keep a tight hold of me, I can use my right arm,” Hermione answered a bit shakily.

Hermione slowly reached her right hand into the bag slung over her shoulder and felt for the mirror nestled beside Hufflepuff’s Cup. Her fingers grasped the mirror tightly, and she pulled it out, speaking Dumbledore’s name. She was cheered to see the headmaster’s very relieved features peering back at her.

“Sir,” squeaked Hermione, “we’ve got it, but...”

“You are currently on the back of a dragon speeding out of London,” Dumbledore interjected.

“How did you know?” gasped Hermione.

“Apparently numerous muggles spotted a dragon flying by Big Ben and Westminster Bridge,” the Headmaster replied with twinkling eyes, “and a BBC news crew in the vicinity caught some of the flight. I am watching the BBC reports at this very moment...”

“How’s the Ministry going to cover this one up?” Harriet wondered aloud, overhearing Dumbledore.

“Oh, that shouldn’t be too much of a problem,” Professor Dumbledore responded. “Helicopters were dispatched to get a closer look, but dragons fly at high rates of speed and it was gone before any could reach it. 

“A number of muggle ‘experts’ are already proposing that the beast seen in the footage is naught but an escaped parade balloon of some sort - and others are proclaiming it to be an elaborate publicity stunt promoting a film about dinosaurs run amok...”

Hermione couldn’t help giggling, despite being more than a bit anxious still, and Harriet shook her head in amazement. It was incredible how easy it was for many non-magical people to rationalise away things which didn’t fit into their narrow view of the world, even when the evidence was staring them in the face.

“In any case,” continued the headmaster, “The important thing is for you to stay safe. The dragon will tire eventually, and likely seek out water and sustenance. You should be able to disembark when it comes to ground. Call me immediately when it does, and I shall apparate to your location.”

That seemed like the only sensible solution, so Harriet and Hermione continued to ride the dragon as it steadily flew Northwards. Finally, after several hours, it seemed to tire and dipped below the clouds somewhere over Northwestern England. The dragon swooped towards a shimmering lake which it spied in a verdant hilly wooded area.

Harriet nodded at Hermione as the dragon skimmed the surface of the lake, scooping up water and schools of fish in its maw. The moment was now. Hermione returned Harriet’s nod. She slid from the dragon’s scaly back into the clear blue water below with a splash, followed quickly by Harriet.

The two young witches swam to the nearby shore and dragged themselves, gasping and sputtering, onto the pebbly beach. The dragon continued to drink and sup, apparently either oblivious to their presence, or simply not caring. After several minutes and numerous gulps, the dragon belched, a puff of smoke emerging from its nostrils. Its thirst and appetite sated, the pallid dragon flew off to search for a hidden place to rest.

Saturated strands of normally bushy hair clung to Hermione’s dripping face, and her rapidly heaving chest gradually slowed as she continued to gasp. Hermione sat up and smiled at Harriet, who was still lying on her back and panting, the replica of Bellatrix Lestrange’s dress clinging wetly to her own rising and falling bust.

A surge of relief and emotion took Hermione. She set upon Harriet and swept her into a passionate embrace. The soggy pair rolled around on the gravelly shore, lips locked in a steamy kiss which warmed them both. When they finally came up for air, Hermione grinned and rummaged in her bag for the hand-mirror. Harriet noticed Hermione’s hesitance.

“So, are you sure you want to call Dumbledore to collect us now, or just enjoy this moment for a bit longer?” Harriet smirked.

Hermione glanced around the wooded lakeside, recalling the view of the surrounding landscape from above. They were in a relatively secluded area, a fair distance from any semblance of civilisation.

“The Horcrux can wait a few more minutes I should think,” Hermione giggled. “It’s not going anywhere. We can call Dumbledore when we’re finished.”

Hermione dropped the hand-mirror back in the bag. Harriet shivered with a thrill of delight when Hermione began to nuzzle her neck, trailing her fingers across Harriet’s curves. Harriet needed a release of her pent up adrenaline rush as much as Hermione did, not to mention that Hermione’s affections substantially diminished the throbbing of her scar.

It wasn’t exactly comfortable on the pebbly shore, but Harriet didn’t care, returning Hermione’s kisses and caresses with abandon. Both of them became giddier as they were carried away by tremors of elation. 

A loud crack shocked the young couple from their euphoric reverie and Hermione squealed. The pair of startled teens grabbed their wands and each peered around wildly, looking for the source of the sound. They gasped and blushed furiously when they spied Albus Dumbledore standing several metres away on the rocky shoreline with his wand in one hand, and the Sword of Gryffindor in the other.

“Please forgive the intrusion,” the Headmaster said apologetically, his cheeks turning pink. “I heard my name mentioned through the mirror - and then I heard no more. I grew worried and came looking for you both...”

“How did you find us?” squeaked Hermione, blushing at being caught in the midst of the rather impassioned snogging session. 

“Oh, that was easy enough,” Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling. “I was able to determine your location from the coordinates of your mirror after you stated my name with it in your hand.”

“In any case, I must apologise again... I quite understand the necessity of release after your no doubt harrowing experience. Now, let us finish this, and take the next step towards finally sending Tom Riddle’s Shade to the underworld where it belongs.”

Hermione rooted in her bag for Hufflepuff’s Cup, still flushed with embarrassment. She couldn’t quite meet the Headmaster’s eyes when she handed him the jewel emblazoned goblet. The golden goblet glittered in the midday sun as Dumbledore carefully examined it. The headmaster managed to catch Harriet’s eye and he smiled kindly at the abashed witch.

“Well Harry,” Dumbledore began, as he passed the Sword of Gryffindor to Harriet, “I believe you should have this honour. After all, Tom Riddle is responsible for most of the travails in your life. It is only fitting that you should be the one to obliterate his last true horcrux.”

“Are... are you sure sir?” Harriet’s iridescent green eyes widened with anticipation.

Quite sure, Harry!” Dumbledore replied.

Harriet eyed the goblet sitting on the smooth flat rock upon which Dumbledore had set it. She was so near to the end of it all - she was so close to destroying the twisted wretch who had murdered her parents and killed so many others that she could taste it. 

Her scar would burn no more when it was finally over, and Harriet was more certain than ever that ridding herself of the piece of Voldemort’s soul within her was within her grasp. Harriet felt a sense of steely resolve filling her and she was ready. Eyeing Hufflepuff’s Cup one last time, Harriet lifted the Sword of Gryffindor with both hands.

Hermione stood utterly still, holding her breath in anticipation. Harriet held the sword high for a brief moment. Then the blade flashed in the sun as Harriet swung it downwards and struck the golden goblet.

An unearthly howl echoed, and ripples spread across the surface of the lake. A swirl of wind whipped Harriet’s dress around her ankles, a billowing vortex of black smoke blowing her dark hair across her face as the howl became a ghastly shriek of horror and agony. 

Harriet gasped and staggered as the searing pain once again ripped through her skull. Hermione caught Harriet and held onto her tightly.

The goblet shuddered and rocked, and with one final roar of disbelief, the last horcrux cracked, spewing venomous black bile across the pebbles at the edge of the lake. 

And then it was over, peace and quiet settling across the wooded countryside once more. Hermione took Harriet’s hand gently and kissed her clammy cheek, and then her lips. As the pain in her scar ebbed, Harriet released Hermione’s lips and took a deep breath, feeling the cool breeze against her skin, the knot in her stomach unwinding.

“It’s nearly over Harriet,” whispered Hermione, “We’ll work out how to get rid of the piece of Voldemort inside you... I know we will.”

Harriet turned to face Hermione, caressing her cheek with one hand, gazing into her brown eyes.

“I couldn’t have done this without you Hermione,” Harriet murmured. 

She reached out her other hand and drew Hermione closer for another deep kiss as the headmaster glanced away. Harriet didn’t know how long she and Hermione kissed, but when they had finished, she knew she was ready to face the last step.

Harriet turned and saw Dumbledore holding what appeared to be a clean set of clothes. The old wizard’s clear blue eyes sparkled in the happy sun.

“I took the liberty of conjuring these for you while you were... otherwise occupied,” Dumbledore beamed. “I thought you might feel a bit more comfortable returning home to your relatives in your natural form.”

“Thanks Professor Dumbledore...” Harriet grinned, “I actually feel natural either way. But yeah - that’ll be nice.”

**~o0o~**

Dumbledore returned to Number Twelve with Harry and Hermione via the floo from the fireplace of a wizard pub owned by an Order Member in a village in the Lake District. Harry and Hermione brushed the soot and ash from their clothes, coughing and wheezing as they staggered out of the hearth at the other end.

“I expect your relatives would like to see you, but I suggest you keep it brief. Professor Snape awaits, Harry” said Dumbledore gravely. “The sooner this is finished, the better for you and your loved ones. I have no doubt that you will be successful.”

“Th...thanks Professor Dumbledore,” Harry responded, swallowing nervously. “Yeah... I’ll be quick. I can’t wait for this to be over.”

It didn’t take long to reassure Hermione’s mother and Aunt Petunia that all had gone as planned. When greetings and hugs had finished, Harry and Hermione followed Professor Snape into the parlour. Harry sat on the sofa, Hermione at his side. 

Snape sat in a cushioned armchair opposite the Potters and retrieved a vial from a pocket inside his cloak. He took a deep breath, peering at Harry for a moment.

“As you know, the headmaster enlisted me to help find a way to destroy the piece of the Dark Lord’s soul which is attached to your own,” began Snape, not bothering with small talk or pleasantries. “I have indeed managed to develop a potion which will aid in that endeavour, based on one found only among the clans of the Deepest Amazon.

“This will be a difficult experience - with a slim possibility of death. You will have to face the Dark Lord within your very soul, and fight him with everything you have... and kill him.” Snape paused to let that sink in before continuing in almost a whisper.

“But I have no doubt that you will prevail... Harry. I believe...” Snape paused dramatically and raised his eyebrows. Snape’s gaze was intense and slightly wistful, “I believe in _you.”_

Snape unstoppered the vial of steaming potion and handed it to Harry. Harry looked at Hermione, gulping nervously. Her brows knitted as she peered back at him .

“I believe in you too Harry!” said Hermione with conviction.

Harry swallowed the potion without another thought.

Harry was spinning, falling through blackness. At first he could see nothing, but out of the darkness sparks of many colours emerged, streaking as they swirled around him. The whorls of colour began to breathe and undulate, at first seemingly random and disordered. Harry’s breath quickened, his heart racing, dizziness started to overtake him. 

But as soon as he thought he was going to pass out and fall into oblivion, the chaos of colour formed intricately shifting kaleidoscopic patterns and the sensation of vertigo faded. The pulsating forms seemed alive, whispering to him in an unknown language, dancing, reaching out to touch him. 

Harry was certain that they were trying to communicate with him - they were trying to tell him something important. 

And for a brief moment Harry could see through the vastness of Space and Time - from one Infinite end of the Universe to the other - and he knew all there was to know - all knowledge that was knowable - the answers to every possible question. 

The flare of Gnosis flooded him - became a surging swell of Emotion and Ecstasy that overtook him. He saw himself aglow - and a luminous feminine figure mirroring him - yet he was she, and she was him. He reached out to touch her and they merged as one.

And then She was All and All was He - an Ineffable Numinous Oneness - and she knew, he knew, that the Ultimate answer - the Ultimate source of Magic was Love - that which powered his Patronus, her Patronus - that which powered Hermione’s Patronus - that sensation he felt when merged with Hermione.

And then it was gone - yet still inside him - it was palpable - and yet he returned to himself - he was once again separate - yet he knew it would always be a part of him, that he was complete within himself, within herself - and yet even more complete with Hermione. 

And the Whole separated into its constituent echoes - the alien entities which were in communication with Harry - the kaleidoscopic forms - a swirling chaotic rainbow of colour once more - the sense of vertigo returned - and then he fell through the eye of the storm. 

Branches broke his fall, bumping and scraping him when he emerged from the other end, finally coming to rest on a mossy patch of ground. Harry dusted himself off and looked around. He was in a dark forest of enormous ancient oaks - older and larger than those in the Forbidden Forest. 

There seemed to be a trail leading into a tangle of bushes. Cautiously, Harry advanced along the overgrown pathway, squeezing through the thicket. The path widened again into a dense misty forest of enormous pines and ferns. Harry’s heart began to thud against the wall of his chest as a sense of trepidation knotted his stomach. 

A scuttling sound startled him and he peered about wildly, looking for the source. Then he saw them, colossal beasts with many legs dropping from trees all around him, blocking his passage. The gigantic spiders - larger even than the Acromantulas - scurried towards Harry. Steeling himself, his nostrils flaring, his wand out, Harry stood his ground. 

Harry spun around, his wand pointing outward. He didn’t know what spell he used. He didn’t even know if it was a spell really. He just knew that he wanted the immense spiders gone. He was shocked when he was suddenly surrounded by a fluttering swarm of colourful, luminous gossamer wings which lit up the misty darkness. It took him a moment to realise that in place of the spiders was a multitude of glowing butterflies. 

Finally the host of glowing butterflies fluttered away, and Harry was left all alone again on the forest pathway. The path curved to the right and that was when he saw it in the centre of a glade. A dark ruin of a house, silhouetted against a starry night, lay ahead of him. 

There was a rushing sensation and the next thing Harry knew, he was inside the house, inside a room standing near a baby’s burned crib, the baby still inside, looking towards the doorway and crying. On the floor lay a body, a female figure with red hair. A chill crawled over his skin, raising goosebumps. 

This was where his parents had been killed - where Voldemort had tried to kill Harry.

The scene shifted again, this time the room was lit, the baby’s crib undamaged, the woman trembling as she watched the door, her wand out. A tall menacing shadow emerged from the hallway, stepping into the light. Harry held his breath when he saw the pale figure with red eyes and slits for nostrils.

Voldemort!

Suddenly, Harry _**was**_ the baby, wandless. The woman shot a stunning spell to no effect; the figure shrugging it off as if it were nothing.

 ** _“Not Harry,”_** the woman screamed. _**“Please - not Harry!”**_

“Stand aside you silly girl,” the Dark Lord hissed. “Stand aside now... and you may live.”

 _ **“No!”**_ the woman sobbed. She screamed again, _**“Not Harry... Take me instead!” ******_

Golden filaments of magic - apparently invisible to the Dark Lord - reached out towards the baby, enveloping him in a loving embrace. Voldemort raised his wand and shot a green bolt of lightning at the woman and she collapsed. 

Then without a word, the Dark Lord aimed his wand at Harry and the lightning burst forth from the tip of his wand. The arc of green magic seemed to slow down as Harry watched it draw closer to him, tears of grief streaming down his pink baby cheeks. 

But despite his anguish, Harry felt a warm comfort as he thought about how much his mother loved him - and how much Hermione loved him. Baby Harry opened his mouth, letting out an ear-piercing shriek. A dazzling, radiant pulse of blinding white light and a Luminous Stag burst from baby Harry as the Killing Curse struck him and rebounded. 

The Dark Lord screamed in agony as another pulse of blazing light struck him, his flesh withering and blackening before the baby’s eyes. Voldemort combusted, turning into ash; the resultant release of Dark Magic exploded, blowing off half the roof. And when it was finished, the baby with a lightning shaped scar stood in his crib crying in a demolished room, his dead mother lying on the floor beside him. 

Harry felt himself departing from the baby, spinning up into the starry night sky, sucked into a kaleidoscopic vortex of whirling colours, speeding dizzily back the way he had come.

**~o0o~**

Hermione and Professor Snape watched as Harry fell into a deep trance within seconds of taking the potion. Carefully they lay Harry down on the sofa as his eyelids closed. Moments later, Harry began to convulse, foaming at the mouth.

Hermione screamed and she threw herself on him, sobbing. Harry’s scar split, but instead of blood, rays of blinding white luminescence burst forth, lighting up the entire parlour. The pulsing beams of light faded and an oozing black pus trickled from the scar. Then the scar sealed itself once more. 

Harry came to, gasping for air, his face wet with tears as Hermione tightly clutched him in her arms. His gulps of air gradually slowed; Harry felt different, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders and cobwebs had been swept from his brain. 

“Oh thank goodness... thank goodness Harry!” Hermione gasped. “You’re back... I thought you were dying...”

“How long...” Harry panted. “How long was I out?”

“Under a minute Harry,” Hermione quickly answered, her tears still dripping from her cheeks. 

“Are you serious?” Harry was stunned. “It seemed like hours...” 

“Yes Harry,” Hermione nodded, beaming at Harry as she wiped away his tears and the black pus with a hanky. “How do you feel?” 

“Brilliant!” Harry grinned. “I feel bloody brilliant... all thanks to you Hermione - you and my Mum!”

**~o0o~**

It had been nearly a week since the battle, and the adder inhabited by the Dark Lord was holing up near a small village in Northumberland which he knew had a few wizarding families. He was hoping to possess one of the wizards, but he was in a quandary; the closest Unicorn sanctuary was in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, and he needed Unicorn blood to keep his host alive.

The risk seemed too great to return so soon to Hogwarts. Perhaps it would be best to make his way to the Unicorn sanctuary in Wales. It might take him several weeks, but the Dark Lord concluded that was his best bet.

It was early-afternoon, and he was hungry. The Dark Lord glided through the long grasses of the meadow in search of prey when he felt something strange. The adder hissed, venom spurting from its fangs involuntarily. Something was very wrong. The Dark Lord felt his tenuous grasp to life slipping away.

This could not be. How was it possible? The Dark Lord had never told a single person about the horcruxes binding his soul to the realm of the living. He could not die unless they had all been destroyed.

The adder uttered a keening sound unlike anything any snake had ever made. It was the voice of dying man, terrified of what he would find on the other side of the veil.

Then the sound was gone. The adder shook its head clear, uncertain how it had come to be so far from its home. Puzzled, but hungry, the snake wasn’t picky. It swallowed a few ants and a worm - just enough for a quick snack. The adder flicked its tongue, tasting the air, searching for its own scent. Then it turned around and slithered back towards the border of England and Scotland.


	50. Summer's End: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more explicit version of this chapter is now available in _Moments in Love: The Steamy Version._

The Prime Minister stirred a spoonful of sugar into his tea and took a sip, eyeing the Minister of Magic shrewdly. There was something about her which reminded him strongly of the previous Prime Minister... who had been a formidable woman indeed.

He was quite pleased with the way things were progressing. His fortunes had turned considerably in his favour since June - quite possibly the lowest point of his career since Black Wednesday as his party and his Cabinet continued to be embroiled in one sleazy scandal after another. 

He had offered up his resignation, challenging the other party leaders to put up or shut up. The leader of the faction trying to push him out should have won handily, but with Minister Dolores Umbridge’s assistance, the Prime Minister had not only defeated his opponent, but trounced him thoroughly, and now the PM was in a stronger position than ever. 

It didn’t hurt that the recent zombie attacks and the Old Trafford Stadium attack had been handled most productively. The public was rallying, now clamouring for the increased security policies which had previously come under fire for being too restrictive, too “fascist” as the street protesters liked to call them.

He considered some of Minister Umbridge’s proposals - the advantages which he and his party would enjoy could not be denied. Certainly the more traditionalist wing of the party would be pleased, as would the bankers and corporate elite. 

Privatisation policies would be able to move forward much more smoothly and quickly with the fortunes of the Opposition party in decline. And political opponents and whistleblowers could be dealt with much more effectively.

And without a doubt, his own personal fortune would benefit greatly.

Dolores took a sip of her own tea, regarding the PM cannily as he mulled over the opportunities presented to him. She had to give him credit - for a muggle he seemed remarkably cunning, though he could use a few lessons in ruthlessness. But the PM had come a long way already. He seemed unconcerned that an unknown number of contagious Inferi remained at large.

Exploiting the loophole in the Stone of Destiny’s magical protections was beginning to pay off handsomely. While the Stone of Destiny prevented wizards from ruling Britain directly, through the institution of the Crown, it did not protect the political process from manipulation by wizards to favour one group of muggles over another.

Seemingly having reached a decision, the Prime Minister smiled. He reached into a cabinet behind his desk and pulled out two crystal snifters and a bottle of brandy.

“Well, Minister Umbridge,” said the PM as he poured them both a stiff drink. “I know it is still early in the day, but it would appear that this is a momentous occasion. I propose a toast to a long and fruitful relationship.”

**~o0o~**

“I am sorry that I cannot stay and celebrate Voldemort's demise with you and your relatives, but I must return to Hogwarts,” said the headmaster. “But before I depart, I need to inform you of the latest developments.”

Harry and Hermione peered questioningly at Dumbledore’s grave features. The headmaster reached into his robes and retrieved the latest issue of the _Daily Prophet_ , passing it to Harry and Hermione.

“This is an important reminder, that although Tom Riddle is utterly dead, we are not yet out of the woods. The Minister is launching an investigation into the recent events at Hogwarts, and we shall all be under intense scrutiny.”

“An investigation?” Hermione squeaked as she skimmed the top article. Harry shook his head and sighed in resignation. “What on earth is there to ‘investigate?’” asked Hermione furiously.

“She’ll take any bloody opportunity,” Harry groaned. “She’s probably trying to work out a way to make us look bad for killing Voldemort.”

“Indeed...” Dumbledore gazed at his two students, and nodded. “She will no doubt draw this out and focus the investigation on me for the time-being. Your critical roles in turning the battle to our favour, and making it possible to defeat Voldemort once and for all are still unknown to the public.

“Your part in things will no doubt come out eventually, but I believe it ought to remain a secret for as long as possible, lest the minister should seek to use this as a legal excuse to detain you for ‘questioning.’”

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment as he considered the news, then he nodded.

“Yes sir! That makes sense...” Harry began, “I was wondering though - our relatives - they must be going mental after being stuck here for months - looking at the same walls all the time, not being able to go outside. I... I was thinking of sending them somewhere else for a bit. D’you think it would be safe if I sent them out of the country?”

Dumbledore’s brows furrowed and he stroked his beard as he thought silently for a moment. Finally he seemed to reach a conclusion.

“Yes... I do think that would be a wise course of action Harry. Notify me when your families have decided where to go, and I shall facilitate the arrangements for leaving the country. I believe the window of opportunity before the Minister turns her attention back to you is narrow though.

“When the Minister does set her sights back upon you, she will no doubt already be at the point of locking down all avenues of departure and monitoring Floo travel in Britain. So decisions should be made swiftly.”

**~o0o~**

Tears of happiness streamed down Jean’s cheeks as she embraced Hermione and her son-in-law. She was thrilled that the monster who had caused Harry so much suffering would never again walk the earth, nor be able to hurt another soul.

Everyone who had been waiting patiently for their return since early morning gave Harry and Hermione a hug, including Madam Bones and Mad Eye Moody. To Harry’s shock, even Petunia tearfully pulled him into a tight embrace.

The years fell away and the memories flooded into Petunia’s mind. So long ago... back before college, before Lily had received her Hogwarts letter, before the headmaster’s reply to Petunia’s own letter explaining why she couldn’t go to Hogwarts too, before even that Snape boy...

Petunia was small again, maybe six or seven years old. Petunia wasn’t certain. But she could finally see clearly the one last perfect day before the magic - the day before Petunia’s fear and jealousy had come between them and driven them apart. Petunia remembered her younger sister - her best friend Lily.

“Th...thank goodness you’re alright Harry,” Petunia sobbed. “And... and thank you - thank you so much for ridding the world of Lily’s murderer... I miss her so much!”

“Well, it was really all of us,” Harry gasped for air. “Dumbledore’s the one who did him in at Hogwarts, and if it weren’t for Hermione, it... it just wouldn’t have been possible at all.”

Petunia wept even louder and threw her arms around Hermione, startling the unprepared young witch. For the first time in her life, Hermione was on the receiving end of a hug as bone-crushing as one of her own, or Hagrid’s. After a few moments, Hermione’s Auntie Joanne put her own arms around Petunia, allowing Hermione to escape.

“There, there dear,” said Joanne kindly as she held the sobbing woman in her arms. “Let it all out...”

“I’ll make some tea then,” Abbie Brixton offered, pointing her wand at the kettle.

“And you two must be famished. You haven’t eaten yet today,” Hermione’s mother said to Harry and Hermione as she rooted in the pantry’s magical cold-box. “Why don’t we all have an early Tea? Bangers and mash alright dears?”

“Oh... er, yes please,” Harry replied, suddenly feeling quite hungry. He grinned when he heard Hermione’s tummy give a little growl. Hermione gave Harry a little shove and blushed.

“None for me, thanks, Jean,” said Moody, looking pointedly at Amelia Bones “I’ve got to be gettin’ on with things. Gotta talk to Dumbledore...”

“Oh... er, yes, indeed!” Madam Bones added, “I’ll come with you Alastor. I ought to speak with Albus as well.”

After Mad Eye Moody and Madam Bones left, Hermione and Harry chatted and played videogames in the parlour with Susan and Dudley until Tea was ready.

“I suppose Auntie and I don’t really need to stay any more,” Susan beamed as her thumbs mashed away at the buttons on the videogame controller. “We’ll probably leave tomorrow. Thanks loads for letting us stay here Harry. It’ll be nice to see Mum and Dad again for a bit before school starts though... they’ll be thrilled to see us both.”

“You’re welcome Susan. Any time...” Harry swallowed, reddening, not sure what else to say. He was just happy that Voldemort hadn’t had the opportunity to kill off any more members of the Bones family.

Dudley seemed quiet. He wasn’t shouting at the pixels on the screen in front of him as he usually did when playing his games. Harry wondered what was wrong with his cousin.

“You alright Dudley?”

“Wha... oh, I suppose,” Dudley mumbled.

Harry was just about to press Dudley to open up a bit when Abbie poked her head in the parlour and told the teens that Tea was ready. When the piles of bangers and mash had been demolished Harry knew the moment had arrived. Everyone was still seated, either sipping a drink or leaning back looking full.

Harry swallowed nervously and glanced at his wife before turning back to face the small gathering. Hermione nodded at Harry and squeezed his hand comfortingly. Harry cleared his throat.

“We... er... I’ve been thinking,” began Harry, peering at Hermione’s mother and auntie, and at Petunia, “well... Tom Riddle - Voldemort - he’s gone for good. But the Minister - I expect she’ll still be after... er... me. I don’t really know for certain if she’s more inclined to obsess about chasing after family as Voldemort was or not...”

“But I know it must be maddening for you to still be cooped up here after so many months, and I was thinking you might all like a... er... long holiday of sorts.”

“I... I can afford to send you - all of you - anywhere in the world you want to go. I think you.... er... should be safe out of the country. You can all go somewhere nice if you want. Anywhere - I mean it!”

“But what about you and Hermione?” Jean asked, frowning.

“We’ll be alright Mum!” Hermione replied earnestly. “I promise! We’ll be at school with Professor Dumbledore.”

Hermione’s mum continued to look skeptical, but she knew it would do no good to argue with her daughter. There was much discussion around the table, and finally a decision was reached about where to go. Following the deliberation, Harry and Hermione took to Number Twelve’s library for a bit of quiet by themselves.

“Well that was easier than I thought it would be,” Harry said with a smile as Hermione plonked herself on his lap.

“You were right Harry,” Hermione murmured, “Nobody likes to be stuck in one place for too long without being able to come and go as they please.”

“I was really surprised though,” Harry shook his head in amazement. “I can’t believe that they all wanted to stay together when they go to Canada. I didn’t think Aunt Petunia got on very well with your mum and auntie...”

“I’m as shocked as you are,” Hermione giggled, “I think they’ve all just got used to each other - and nobody wants to be alone again.”

“I’m glad that Abbie Brixton said she’ll stay on with them too,” said Harry, looking relieved. “I feel loads better knowing that they’ll still have a wizard looking after them! D’you think they’ll like Canada? I thought they’d want to go to a tropical island, or somewhere exotic...”

“Well, it’s possible that they’re going to be gone from the UK for a while, so it makes sense for them to want to be somewhere that still feels a bit familiar,” responded Hermione. “Dudley will be able to go to school there until...”

Hermione paused, feeling a lump in her throat. Sensing her sadness, Harry kissed Hermione's forehead.

“I know Hermione,” whispered Harry. “I’ll miss them too. But we’ll get through this and deal with the Minister - they’ll all come home again eventually...”

“Are you sure Harry?” Hermione’s eyes brimmed with tears. “What if Minister Umbridge hangs on to power and Britain just gets worse?”

“Do... do you want to leave as well?” Harry asked sincerely. “We can both quit Hogwarts and go to Canada too if you’d like. I’ll just be happy being with you - wherever you want to go. And we can invite our friends to come with us...”

Hermione shook her bushy head without hesitation.

“No...” Hermione sighed, “We’re needed here Harry - we managed to get rid of Voldemort and we have to help the Order stop the Minister from turning Britain into a nightmare... This is our home. And besides, it’s not fair to ask everyone else to leave their families behind... we need to help them.”

“Good,” returned Harry softly. He cupped Hermione’s chin with his fingers and leaned his head forward to kiss her properly. “I’d go to the ends of the Earth for you Hermione. But I’m really glad that you want to stay and fight, because I do too!”

Later that evening, Harry and Hermione undressed and clambered into bed, pulling the covers over themselves. They didn’t bother with nightclothes, as the sensation of being at home again in their own bed, with their own silk sheets against their bare skin felt nice. 

Harry was about to reach for the book on the nightstand when he noticed Hermione’s expression, the expression she always wore when she was thinking deep thoughts about something. 

“So what was it like Harry?” Hermione asked as she snuggled into the crook of Harry’s shoulder, an arm across his chest.

“Pardon?”

“Your experience with the potion... What was it like? What happened?”

“Oh... er... It’s a bit hard to explain really...” Harry thought about it for a moment then tried to describe the sensations. “At first it was like... I saw ripples in the air, then the ripples sort of became a huge wave which knocked me over and I was falling - and everything went dark. Then there were all these lights... coloured lights - spinning around me and I felt dizzy. 

“But then the colours began to form into shapes - mostly spirals and pinwheels at first - but then they sort of... I dunno...” Harry trailed off, not sure whether to tell Hermione. Maybe she’d think he’d gone mad. But as he looked into her earnest eyes, Harry knew she wouldn’t.

“Then they turned into more intricate patterns - they sort of pulsed, breathed - they seemed alive, like real beings... not just my imagination. They talked to me in a language I didn’t understand - they tried to tell me something... 

“And that’s when things got _**really**_ weird. It... it was like I was everything - everywhere all at once - everywhere in the Universe...

“For a moment I knew everything... Everything that anyone could possibly know... and... and I don’t really know how to describe it... but _knowing_ everything sort of became _feeling_ everything... It felt a bit like when we’re casting Patronuses in the Room of Requirement - magic swirling all around - sort of an overwhelming happiness... love...

“Then somehow - it all turned into a dark forest - but that bit was sort of like a dream... and then... then...” Harry swallowed, feeling a deep ache in his middle, his features anguished, tears trickling. “I was _**there**_ Hermione... It was _**real**_ \- I know it was! I was in my house - my parents’ house, and I was me - as a baby I mean, but somehow I was me as I am now too, but inside the baby. 

“I... I watched Voldemort... I saw him kill my mum. And... and then he tried to kill me - but his curse rebounded somehow - something my mum did before she died stopped it from killing me. 

“Then... at the same time I think... I... er... I think... No, I _**know**_ it wasn’t just accidental magic or his rebounding killing curse, Hermione. A killing curse couldn’t blow up a house like that - even if it was somehow ricocheting. 

“It was sort of like when we do our Patronuses - but without a wand... the light just came out of me - the Corporeal Patronus came out of me... but it was somehow even more intense than it is for us now, if that’s possible - because of you - I felt you with me, loving me - and because of my mum loving me too. 

“And... and Voldemort sort of burned up like the Inferi - from the inside out - and then exploded - that... _**that’s**_ what destroyed my parents’ house - Voldemort exploding. 

“I was _**there**_ Hermione - me now, back then. Somehow I was connected through time with my baby self... and... and I killed him - killed Voldemort then... and killed the bit of him inside of me now - I mean earlier today - both at the same time. They’re both connected - both times connected I mean - I know it doesn’t make any sense...”

“Actually, I... I think it _**does**_ make sense... I think I understand, Harry...” said Hermione, her brow furrowed in deep thought. “If Einstein is right - and nearly everyone thinks he is - then time stops at the speed of light - at least it does for massless particles like photons - and that means all times are connected somehow - all happening at the same time - sort of like a frozen lattice made entirely of light... sort of like a hologram. 

“It’s only because we usually experience things as particles with mass - as matter - particles which move slower than the speed of light - that we experience time. In the state your physical brain was in, thanks to the potion - your mind, your soul, must have been set free to travel to any point in time - past or future - and to any point in space too, for that matter. That part of us - our souls - must have no mass - like photons have no mass...”

Harry looked completely confused, and Hermione knew that she’d lost him. “I’ll try to explain it again later Harry. I know you’ll eventually get it... 

“Anyway, that must be when you convulsed - when you killed the last bit of Voldemort in you now, it must have released all of the Dark magic trapped in you - sort of like when he exploded in the past. 

“The potion experience probably wouldn’t have been so risky for you otherwise - it’s probably relatively safe for most people... The released Dark magic must have exploded in your brain, and the Patronus light forced it out when your scar burst. That black stuff which comes out of horcruxes - that oozed out of your scar right after the light came out of it.”

“Yeah...” Harry nodded. “That bit makes sense...” Then he grinned. “At least I get that bit, Hermione.” 

There was something about Hermione’s expression which caught Harry’s attention - the yearning in her big brown eyes. 

“You want to try it too, don’t you?” Harry smirked. “That’s why you think it’s probably safe for most people...” 

Hermione blushed; Harry always could read her expressions. She nodded, not sure exactly what to say to convince Harry. 

Harry chortled. “I suppose you want a chance to know everything too... even if just for a moment.”

“Don’t be silly Harry,” she said, grinning and giving him a playful swat. “I just want to have an experience that we can both share together.”

“Yeah... I know, Hermione,” he murmured with a gentle look in his eyes. “I was just teasing.”

Harry leaned his head forward slightly, and Hermione met his lips with her own. They melted into one another as the kiss deepened. When the kiss was finished they both settled back in position, sighing contentedly.

After a few moments of peaceful bliss, Harry lifted the book from beside the bed with his free hand, and he began to read it aloud to Hermione as her hand gently stroked his chest. Hermione dozed off happily while she listened to the sound of Harry’s voice as he read to her from _The Tales of Beedle the Bard._

**~o0o~**

It was late in the evening and Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour uncomfortably peered at the few core members of the Order of the Phoenix gathered before him. He knew that some still didn’t trust him. And it didn’t help that he bore ill-tidings.

“It is out of my hands,” Rufus Scrimgeour said with a frown. “I did everything I could to close the investigation. The Minister overruled my recommendation for closure, dismissing my Final Report as ‘incomplete’...” Scrimgeour huffed. “She has directly taken over the investigation and has brought the Department of Mysteries in...”

“You don’t mean...?” gasped Professor McGonagall.

“Yes. Dolores has Unspeakables leading the ‘investigation’ now,” Scrimgeour scowled.

Albus Dumbledore was disturbed, but not at all surprised, and his features remained as inscrutable as Snape’s as he absorbed the information. He glanced at Madam Bones, who seemed equally unsurprised. But Madam Pomfrey looked as appalled as McGonagall.

“It was to be expected of course,” sighed Dumbledore. “You are confirming what I have already gleaned from reading between the lines of the rather misleading report in the _Daily Prophet_.”

“So whaddya gonna do about this Rufus?” growled Alastor Moody.

“All I can do is keep forging ahead with my own investigation of the Minister,” Scrimgeour sighed. “I have managed to root out a mole in the Archives and Propaganda subdepartment of the Unspeakable Office. But I have nothing actionable yet to counter her with, and it is clear that Dolores has garnered the support of several key Wizengamot committees...”

**~o0o~**

Hermione was the first to wake, quite early the following morning. Too early really. It wasn't even light out yet, but Hermione felt too restless to go back to sleep.

She smiled to herself, remembering the stories Harry had read to her the night before as she drifted into slumber. For some reason, one story in particular kept replaying in her mind. It had been a story about three brothers, wizards all, who had encountered a personification of Death.

But for the life of her, Hermione couldn’t work out why the fable had caught her attention. Something about the story niggled at the back of her mind, ringing a bell which seemed familiar. Not being able to solve a mystery always unnerved Hermione, and she had been feeling a bit unsettled to begin with.

Hermione knew that she and Harry were at a crossroads in their lives together, a juncture between the past and things to come. Harry had finally got the closure he deserved.

They should be celebrating, moving on with their lives, and enjoying the next few years at Hogwarts with nothing more than normal teenage things to worry about. Well, at least normal enough for a pair of teenage wizards who had married very young and helped defeat a powerful maniac.

But the future was still so uncertain. And for some reason that story with the three brothers kept insinuating itself into Hermione’s thoughts. Hermione tried to put it out of her mind. She closed her eyes and just paid attention to Harry’s gentle breathing next to her, his chest rising and falling, his heart beating under the palm of her hand.

Hermione pressed herself even closer to Harry and gently stroked his messy black hair with the back of her fingers.

Hermione smiled to herself; Harry always looked so peaceful when he was asleep. Unable to help herself she tenderly pressed her lips against his and he stirred. Harry’s eyelids flickered as he awoke to feel Hermione’s amourous affections.

“Morning Hermione! Bit early isn't it?” Harry grinned at her adorable blushing face and reached out a hand to caress her bushy golden head. He returned her kiss humidly.

“Morning Harry,” Hermione murmured, bearing an expression of longing. Moments later, Hermione was atop him, Harry’s hands wrapped around her waist as they kissed again even more vigorously.

Harry gasped with pleasure and Hermione let out a moan as they let loose their passions. After some time had passed a current of bliss swept them both away and they lost themselves.

Hermione fell sweatily back against Harry’s chest, both of them panting. Hermione lay there purring serenely, Harry's fingers tangled in her messy coils of hair. Hermione didn’t want to move. It felt nice just to lie there peacefully in Harry’s arms.

Harry’s head swirled with intoxication as he breathed in Hermione’s aroma. He couldn’t tell where he left off and Hermione began. He didn’t know how long the two of them lay like that, completely absorbed in one another, but after awhile, Harry felt the eddies of ecstasy begin to move him again. Soon, the bed rocked as Harry and Hermione resumed their feverish exploits.

Magic crackled and sparked when the pair of them merged in an explosion of euphoria for a second time and the walls trembled.

Having accomplished completion, the Potters lay together in a blissful daze yet again, joined as one, for an indeterminate, seemingly eternal moment of nirvana. 

When Harry next woke, he realised that it was several hours later, well past breakfast time. He also realised that he and Hermione were still entwined. He couldn’t really move without stirring Hermione and they both roused themselves. 

Hermione felt much clearer-headed. She cleaned her teeth while Harry used the loo, then they shared a hot shower together. Something clicked in Hermione’s brain as they both dressed and got ready to meet the rest of the day.

“Harry?”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember the story - about the three brothers? You were reading it to me last night.”

“Yeah...” Harry finished buckling his belt and peered attentively at Hermione. He wondered if she had had a similar feeling of deja vu. “Can’t forget that one really. There’s something about that story - the Invisibility Cloak for one thing...”

“And the Resurrection Stone...” Hermione said excitedly. Harry, I think the story is based on real people...”

“Come off it. You’re joking...” Harry peered at his wife with a thoroughly bemused expression. “Death can’t be a real character. He’s an anthropomorphism - it’s just a fairy tale for wizards Hermione...”

Hermione stared back at her skeptical husband and giggled as the absurdity and the irony of the situation struck her.

“Are you teasing me Hermione?” asked Harry, still with a look of bewildered amusement plastered on his face.

“No,” Hermione shook her head. “I mean it. Of course Death isn’t a real person - you’re absolutely right, but the rest of the story... Do you remember when we found the Ring of Peverell with Dumbledore?”

Harry nodded.

“It’s the Resurrection Stone Harry - don’t you see?” Hermione’s brown eyes gleamed brightly, “You and Dumbledore have two of the three magical artifacts in the story. The three wizards in the story are the Peverell brothers, and you’re descended from the one who owned the Invisibility Cloak. It all fits logically...”

“You’re serious about this aren’t you?” Harry interjected, stunned by the seeming credibility of the revelation.

“Absolutely,” Hermione responded adamantly. “When we found the ring, Dumbledore said something very interesting to Mr Moody. Dumbledore called the insignia on the Stone in the ring, ‘the Peverell Coat of Arms - the Deathly Hallows’...”

“YES!” Harry’s own eyes widened in excitement as it hit him, “I remember the symbol. It looks a bit like an eye in the middle of a Triangle - but a slitted eye. It’s not an eye, it’s the...”

“...stone in the ring, yes!” Hermione finished for Harry. “And that slit wasn’t a slit, it was a wand...”

“...and the triangle was a cape - a cloak - my Invisibility Cloak. You’re right Hermione, it all fits, it makes sense. Invisibility Cloaks as good as mine are supposed to be really rare - it’s impervious to nearly everything...”

“I know; it’s perfect Harry,” Hermione gushed. “The cloak didn’t get torn or damaged at all when I was wearing it as we crashed through the ceiling of Gringotts. And the charm on it is as strong today as it must have been when your father owned it. That’s unheard of. The Peverells must have been incredible wizards...”

“The Elder Wand... That must be amazing,” Harry mused. “I’m not sure that I’d want it though. Seems more trouble than it’s worth, something like that. I’d rather have the cloak.”

Hermione nodded vigorously in agreement, “Me too... though I thought - given your parents, you might like the Resurrection Stone...”

Harry shook his head, “Maybe at one time - but honestly, I’m not so sure about that. It’s weird. I _**do**_ want to see them - have a chance to talk to them - but I don’t as well. I... I’m not sure why. Maybe I’m just not ready yet...”

“I... I think I understand Harry.” Hermione bit her lip, and smiled at him tearily. Harry reached out and caught a tear with the back of his forefinger as it trickled down her cheek.

“It’s alright Hermione,” said Harry softly. “I’m fine... really. I’m just trying to say why, if I had to choose - at this moment in time - why I would choose the Invisibility Cloak instead of the Resurrection Stone or the Elder Wand. Right now, I’m just mostly curious...”

“...Who has the Elder Wand?” Hermione concluded with a nod. “Maybe Dumbledore can tell us more about the Deathly Hallows, and what they mean...”

**~o0o~**

Madam Bones and Susan departed shortly after a very late breakfast, both of them thanking the Potters profusely for their hospitality. Susan then gave Dudley a hug and a kiss on the cheek before stepping into the green flames, thanking him for keeping her company during the summer.

Harry grinned at the goofy expression on Dudley’s reddening face. He hoped Dudley would have a chance to make some nice friends in Canada, maybe even meet a girl. Dudley deserved it. He was almost a completely different person now.

Harry barely recognised Dudley as the boy whom Harry’s horrible Uncle Vernon had trained to be a bully. All that seemed to be left of the old Dudley was an obsession with movies and videogames that featured lots of gunfire and explosions. Susan had assured Hermione and Harry that Dudley had been the perfect gentleman the entire summer.

Moody caught Harry’s eye after the Boneses had gone.

“Well Potter,” Mad Eye growled, “I’ll be about for a bit until we’ve got your relatives moved - which’ll likely take us till the end of the week. But I know you’ll be headin’ back to Hogwarts tomorrow mornin’... You and your missus need to know that there was an emergency Order meetin’ last night for some of us in the ‘inner-circle.’”

“There’s nothin’ you need to worry about just yet. Dumbledore’ll fill you in on anything which affects you when you get back to Hogwarts. For now, just remember to stay vigilant.”

After Moody had departed, Harry and Hermione were left with Dudley who peered at them a bit awkwardly.

“Er... Thanks loads Harry... for...erm... sending us on a trip.” said Dudley with a sad smile. “It... er... it’ll be nice to get outside and see other people again.”

Harry returned Dudley’s smile and nodded, “You’re welcome Dudley. I’m sorry that Aunt Petunia vetoed your vote to live in Tahiti or the Bahamas.”

Dudley and Harry both began to laugh and Hermione giggled. After a few chuckles, Dudley became serious again.

“I... I’ll really miss you Harry. I... I know I’ll have a chance to make new friends, but it’s not the same. It’s not really fair. All those years... I wasted on bullying you...”

Harry grew alarmed, seeing where this was heading. “Look... Dudley! That’s all water under the bridge. You’ve already apologised. You’ve been really nice since.... and anyway, I blame Uncle Vernon more...”

“No... that’s not what I mean. I mean... er...” Dudley floundered momentarily, then pulled himself back together. “What I’m trying to say is... is that I’m sorry that I didn’t have a chance to be your friend as a kid - before you went off to wizard school. I think you’re really cool to hang out with - and... and I just wish we had more time to be friends now...”

Harry’s eyes felt a bit watery, then a sense of resolve set in.

“Hey!” said Harry firmly, “I’ll see you again... That’s a promise Dudley! Here... take this.”

“What is it?” Dudley peered at the hand-mirror which Harry had given him.

“It’s a bit like a mobile phone,” Harry replied. “If you touch it or hold it and say my name, I’ll be able to talk to you on one too. This one is an extra one in case mine gets broken. If you need anything... or just want to talk, call me. Just try not to forget that you’ll be in a different timezone!” Harry smirked and Dudley grinned back at him.

“Wicked! Ta Harry... does it... er... take messages?”

“Er... yeah I think it does actually! We haven’t really tried that yet... Do you want to give it a go then?”

“Er... alright,” said Dudley. 

Dudley said Harry’s name and spoke into the mirror. Harry waited a minute or two then picked up his own mirror. As soon as Harry touched the mirror he heard Dudley’s voice emanating from it and saw Dudley’s moving features. Harry nodded in satisfaction as he listened to the message.

“Well, looks like it definitely works then,” Harry grinned.

Harry and Hermione spent the rest of the day cheerfully playing videogames and watching action films with Dudley. For a special treat, Abbie Brixton went out and brought back a take-out feast for everyone from a nearby Indian Restaurant: a sumptuous spread of spicy curries, tangy rice, and samosas. Full and happy, before going to bed, Harry and Hermione prepared to return to Hogwarts the next morning, feeling ready for whatever came next.

**~o0o~**

Daphne distractedly dipped the piece of toast in the runny yellow yolk of her boiled egg. She glanced the others, wondering if they felt the same as she did. The afternoon before last, Dumbledore had cheerfully informed the Potters’ friends that Harry and Hermione’s mission had been a roaring success.

Daphne was thrilled and relieved that the scourge of the wizard world was no more, with the surety that he would never return. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help feeling a bit empty and confused.

She hadn’t expected to feel a bit lost. In some respects, the wizard who had fashioned himself into a “Dark Lord” had defined her entire existence - everyone’s existence for that matter. Voldemort had been a looming presence over everyone in Britain for many decades. Even during the fourteen years that people had believed him to be dead, most people had still been too terrified to say his name.

Now that Voldemort was gone, Daphne was unsure of herself, uncertain of her purpose. She knew that the Minister was the biggest threat to Harry and Hermione now, but Daphne had no idea what she could do about that. The Minister couldn’t be fought directly as long as the rest of wizarding Britain perceived her to be the legitimate head of the Ministry.

All Daphne could envision in her own immediate future was several more years at Hogwarts. But that was no longer enough for her; she needed more, something to fill the gap, some knowledge of her destiny. And Daphne hoped that eventually she would find it.

Doing her best to put it all aside, Daphne looked around the table again, to see what everyone else was up to. Everyone was giggling or roaring with laughter. Daphne grinned when she saw that Dora had changed her features to mimic a bear snout as she ate her porridge. 

Daphne’s own giggles were interrupted by a gentle hand on her shoulder. She was surprised to see Professor McGonagall standing beside her. Somehow McGonagall had pulled a Dumbledore and managed to sneak up on the Mingling Table without anyone noticing.

“Professor?” mumbled Daphne as she hurriedly chewed and swallowed the piece of toast in her mouth.

“My apologies Miss Greengrass,” began Professor McGonagall kindly, “I don’t mean to disturb you, but I need to inform you that you have a visitor - your father is here. When you have finished your breakfast, you will be able to find him in the headmaster’s office.”

Daphne’s eyes went wide and her chest tightened.

“Is something wrong? My sister...?” Daphne gasped.

“It’s alright dear,” Professor McGonagall continued, all eyes upon her now. “There is no cause for alarm. As far as I am aware, your sister Astoria is well and at home with your mother. Your father simply wishes to speak with you in person before term begins.”

“Thanks Professor,” Daphne nodded, her trepidation changing to excitement at the news. Hastily Daphne finished her breakfast and dashed off to wash up before joining her father in Dumbledore’s office.

**~o0o~**

Saying goodbye to everyone at Number Twelve had felt very different from any of the previous goodbyes in either of the Potters’ memory, but they had both taken some comfort in the fact that their relatives would have each other and a witch to keep them company.

They had shared a quiet breakfast with the others before leaving. And even though Harry and Hermione were both satisfied that Mum, their respective aunts, and Dudley, would be safe in Canada and well looked after by Abbie Brixton, farewells were still quite tearful.

Harry and Hermione emerged from the green flames in the fireplace of the staff-room at Hogwarts to be eagerly greeted by a grinning Professor Lupin.

“Well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes,” said Lupin to the young couple after Harry had regained his balance and stopped coughing. “I trust all is well?”

“I bloody hate floo travel. We barely managed to keep ourselves together when we went to Gringotts.” Harry grimaced as he and Hermione brushed the ash and soot off their clothes. “I wish we could’ve just caught a train to Hogsmeade and had you meet us there.”

“Well, we might be able to do something about that Harry,” said Lupin with a thoughtful expression. “You are both technically of age after all. I’ll speak to Dumbledore and see about getting apparition lessons for you both - though of course...”

“...You can’t usually apparate directly into Hogwarts,” Harry muttered, not sure that he would like apparating any better than floo travel. As far as he was concerned, broomsticks were the best means of transportation in the Wizard World, especially with Hermione snuggled against him.

“Indeed!” Lupin responded, smiling. “Most of the time anyway - unless Dumbledore temporarily takes down the anti-apparition charms. I was actually meaning that for the time being until the problem of the Minister has been dealt with, that for you, direct travel is perhaps for the best. The less time you are exposed in public, the better.

“In any case,” Lupin continued, looking even more cheerful, “I believe some sort of celebration is in order. Perhaps you and your friends would like to join me and Sirius at the Shack this evening for a bit of a soiree.”

“That sounds great,” said Harry, finally smiling himself. “Yeah, I’d like that. Does that sound good to you Hermione?” Harry asked his wife.

Hermione returned Harry’s look, then regarded Lupin astutely, sensing that he was holding back some joyful tidings.

“Well... that would be lovely, but I think Professor Lupin has some good news to tell us first Harry!”

Lupin groaned. He had wanted to surprise the Potters at the party, but Hermione’s keen observational skills had caught him out. Harry questioningly peered back and forth between Hermione and Remus.

“You’d better spit it out Remus...” Harry said with a grin, “Hermione can be quite stubborn at ti... ow!” Harry bit his tongue and smirked at Hermione who was giving him a mock glare after swatting his shoulder teasingly.

“Hark who’s talking,” Hermione retorted. Then she set her sights firmly back on Lupin, a bit of a smirk on her own lips. “Still... Harry’s not wrong! I’m not budging until you tell us now, Remus!” Hermione’s features softened and gave Lupin her best doe-eyed look. _“Please!?”_

“Alright, you win,” Lupin shook his head with a laugh and rubbed his forehead. “This isn’t exactly how I wanted to tell you - but here it is then... I’m not entirely certain how it happened, but I’m cured. I am no longer a werewolf!”

“Shut up! You’re joking!” Harry gasped.

Hermione’s jaw dropped in shock, “But that... that’s impossible, isn’t it?”

“Well - so Snape and Pomfrey keep reminding me,” Lupin chortled. “They are as astounded as you two. But the results of Pomfrey’s tests are quite clear, and undeniable. The only thing... Dumbledore, he didn’t seem quite as surprised as he ought to. Especially when I revealed my own thoughts on the matter to him...”

Professor Lupin gazed shrewdly at Harry and Hermione. Suddenly it hit them both.

“Our Patronuses!” Harry blurted out, looking very sheepish.

Hermione’s eyes widened guiltily, “Please don’t be cross with us Remus. Dumbledore said we should keep it a secret, but we still meant to tell you and Sirius...”

“...But somehow we never got round to it...” Harry finished.

“Oh, heavens no! I’m not cross in the least,” Lupin reassured the two young students, “Nor will Sirius be. We both understand the need for keeping some things a secret - in as small a circle as possible. None of us knew how we survived the battle with Voldemort. By rights Hogwarts should be in ruins, and we should all be dead. And we might be if anyone untoward had stumbled across whatever your secrets are...

“All of us in the Order assumed that Dumbledore had some secret weapon which he had put you and Harry in charge of... But judging from your reactions, am I right to presume that your Patroni had something to do with that as well?” Lupin asked.

“Yeah, erm... they’re... er... ‘superpowered’ Patronuses, I suppose...” mumbled Harry awkwardly, turning pink. He looked at Hermione who was blushing furiously .

“Ah... say no more Harry,” said Lupin, light suddenly dawning on him. “I understand... Sirius and I always knew you were both eminently suited for each other, and there’s no need for the details. 

“I must assume that your... erm... _activities_ have something to do with the Castle-Quakes. And would I also be correct to assume then, that your ‘superpowered’ Patroni were indeed responsible for the destruction of the Dementors at the conclusion of the Third Task?”

“Yes...” Hermione squeaked. “But we had no idea that would happen at the time...”

“...and it was only a guess on my part that they would kill Inferi too,” Harry added. “We first gave them a go against the Inferi in the maze...”

“And it was a brilliant guess, a very logical inference actually,” said Hermione. “Er... I suppose you’re right,” she continued, “We might not have survived the attack on Hogwarts if it weren’t for our Patronuses...”

“And now that my Lycanthropy is cured, we know of at least one more effect of such potent Patroni,” Lupin nodded with a satisfied expression on his face. He noticed the Potters’ eyes flicker towards each other uncertainly.

“Perhaps _**two**_ more then?” Lupin raised his eyebrows as something clicked in his brain. “Should I also conclude that your Patroni had something to do with Jennifer Watts’ newfound magical abilities as well?”

Harry swallowed nervously and Hermione bit her lip anxiously.

“It’s alright,” Lupin said gently. “Don’t worry... Jennifer Watts’ secret is safe with me and Sirius. That is even more dangerous information to possess than the ability of Patroni to destroy some of the Darkest curses and Dementors...

“And I must say... it is quite incredible. Never in recorded history - at least not that I know of - have muggles ever been turned into wizards. It is as unheard of as a permanent remedy for lycanthropy...”

“And I cannot thank you both enough for giving me my life back, inadvertently or not,” Lupin’s voice cracked, his eyes glistening wetly. “Words are truly insufficient to convey my gratitude...”

By the time Harry and Hermione left Lupin, they had both cheered again in anticipation of the celebration of Tom Riddle’s demise, and buoyed by the knowledge that Lupin’s lycanthropy was cured.

“I still can’t believe it Hermione. Lupin’s going to have to learn how to be an animagus now if he wants to be a wolf again. He’ll have total control when he transforms.”

“It really is amazing Harry. Our Patronuses - we’ve gone further with that magic than anyone has ever done. We’ve accomplished things with them that the vast majority of wizards will probably never be able to do...” Hermione paused, her face awestruck. 

“Until just now - the way Remus put it - even after you used your Patronus to destroy Voldemort - I... I haven’t really quite thought about it like that before Harry - what it all means about our place in the wizard world.”

“I know... me neither really,” said Harry. “It’s almost like our Patronuses are ‘Curse-Busters’ of a sort. They seem to destroy certain types of really Dark Curses...”

“...because they’re the opposite of death and despair - they’re the embodiment of life and joy...” Hermione continued as she embraced Harry tightly. She gazed into Harry’s lustrous green eyes and whispered, “They’re love...”

Harry and Hermione’s lips met in a long, rapturous kiss as they stood in the hallway opposite the delighted portrait of Aphrodite.

The ancient Greek Sorceress known to the muggle world as the Goddess of Love waited patiently as the young couple kissed. When the Potters finished kissing, Hermione was the first to realise that something was different when she spotted Aphrodite smiling blissfully at her. 

“Er... isn’t our corridor supposed to be here?” asked Hermione, looking bewildered. Harry was equally puzzled, wondering if they had somehow taken a wrong turn.

“Yes indeed,” said the portrait of Aphrodite, batting her eyelashes coquettishly. “While you were both gone, the headmaster thought it might be wise to add another layer of protection for you and your friends. I am now the guardian of the portal to your quarters. Only those with the right passport may pass through me...”

“Er... passport?” said Harry questioningly. “Don’t you mean pass _word?”_

Aphrodite tittered, sounding a lot like Fleur. “Just a little kiss... and if you taste right, you may pass unchallenged.”

“Taste right?” asked Hermione. She gasped and her eyes widened as it hit her. “It’s to make sure that we’re not polyjuice or metamorphmagus imposters, isn’t it!”

“Right in one, dear! Now... just a little kiss, right on the lips...” 

The Potters blushed furiously as the life-size portrait beckoned them forth and they both gave Aphrodite a kiss on her painted lips. The magical canvas shimmered as Aphrodite tasted the truth of their essence. 

“That’s it - now step into the frame...” said Aphrodite.

“Er... really?” Harry raised one eyebrow skeptically. This was a new one on him and Hermione.

“Harry...” gasped Hermione, “...I think she means like in _Voyage of the Dawn Treader_! Remember how Lucy, Edmund, and Eustace jump into the painting of the Narnian ship?”

“Wow...Yeah, I do...”

“Then come on Harry,” said Hermione excitedly, grabbing Harry’s hand. 

She stepped over the frame, pulling Harry with her. The Potters appeared to flatten as they joined Aphrodite inside the painting. When they stepped out of the frame again, they were on the other side of the wall, facing what was now a Secret Corridor, hidden from the rest of Hogwarts.

“That is seriously cool!” exclaimed Harry, feeling awed. “I love magic,” Harry grinned. “It’s weird - I almost feel like I’m turning two dimensional when we step into and out of the frames, but from inside...”

“...the painting feels three dimensional and the outer-world looks two dimensional. It’s like another world in there Harry...” said Hermione.

“I bet Neville’s going to have a heart attack when he has to kiss Aphrodite to visit us though,” Harry chortled.

Hermione giggled but never got another word out because there was a squeal as the door to their common room opened and Daphne pounced on the Potters.

“I thought I heard voices out here,” Daphne beamed radiantly, giving each Potter a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I missed you - we all did.”

There were hugs all the way around as Harry and Hermione entered the Unaffiliated common room. Everyone was there except for Neville and Viktor. Hermione spied schoolbooks and papers strewn across the coffee table and the end tables by the sofa and cozy armchairs. 

“We’re all helping Jennifer study for exams...” Luna explained.

“There’s less than a week before term begins on Friday, so Dumbledore is setting Jennifer's exams for Wednesday,” Parvati added.

“And she’s bloody brilliant!” said Dora eagerly. “Dumbledore said they’ll only be testing for the essentials, so there’s a good chance that she’ll be joining you lot in fifth year...”

“...Except for Luna and me of course,” Ginny sighed, wishing they could skip fourth year and take classes with their friends.

“Jennifer c’est magnifique,” Fleur added, “So much material in less zan two months!”

Jennifer hid her crimson face behind her long dark bangs, “I’ve had loads of help - I couldn’t have got this far without all of you, really...”

Relief flooded Jennifer when everyone began clamouring to hear details from the Potters about the mission to retrieve the last horcrux. Everyone listened intently and shivered at all the scary bits. The girls giggled and Harry grinned, turning slightly pink, when Hermione recounted how she and Harry had been caught snogging and seriously making out by Dumbledore at the lake.

Daphne wanted Harry and Hermione to stay longer after they had finished their tale, but she knew that her father didn’t have all day.

“Harry, my father has some important things he needs to discuss with you - the both of you. He’s with Dumbledore, probably still in Dumbledore’s office...”

“Oh, alright then,” said Harry, feeling nervous suddenly, “Er... d’you know what it’s about Daphne?”

“I’m not sure exactly, but I think it has something to do with the Wizengamot,” Daphne replied. Daphne looked like she was about to say something more, but after a moment’s hesitation she gave the Potters a hug and sent them on their way.

Hermione could sense Daphne’s anxiety as surely as she had sensed Professor Lupin’s barely contained glee. Harry glanced at his wife as they made their way to the headmaster’s office, a gnawing feeling growing in his own gut.

“Hermione, Daphne seemed a bit worried about something. D’you think she’s alright?”

Hermione bit her lip.

“I... I’m not sure Harry,” she replied. “She’s definitely anxious about something. Maybe we’ll find out what’s bothering her from Mr Greengrass.”

“Yeah... I suppose we’ll find out soon enough then,” said Harry.

Moments later, the two young wizards were greeted warmly by Mr Greengrass and the headmaster, and seated themselves in two cozy armchairs. Harry swallowed nervously and Hermione instinctively took his hand. Though the greeting had been friendly, they both knew that this was no social call.

“Harry, Mrs Potter,” the Headmaster began, “As we all know, despite the final demise of Tom Riddle, we still face an uphill climb. It would have been a boon to us all if we had more time to devise a proper strategy for dealing with the Minister, alas, we do not... perhaps I should allow Mr Greengrass to explain...”

Cyril Greengrass sighed. He hated to be the bearer of bad news.

“Well Harry, the Wizengamot has been called to a full session for this upcoming Thursday at nine am. Your godfather and I had hoped to shepherd you through your first legislative session. However, given the circumstances, I think it would be best that you not participate directly.”

Harry thought about it for a moment. After dealing with Voldemort‘s army and Voldemort himself, the task of entering the heart of the Ministry and facing Minister Umbridge again didn’t seem so daunting. 

“Why not?” he said. “I’m not scared of the Minister...”

Cyril Greengrass couldn’t help smiling at Harry’s directness and fortitude.

“Good,” Mr Greengrass responded. “Be that as it may, I believe that it would be far too dangerous for you to enter the Ministry at this time. The Minister now has the support of three key committees... and controls a majority on the Wizengamot...”

“Which has been confirmed independently by Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office,” Dumbledore interjected.

“Indeed,” Mr Greengrass nodded, “But most disturbing, is how the Minister has achieved this. Four members of the Wizengamot have been indefinitely detained for ‘questioning’ following Voldemort’s failed attack on Hogwarts - all of them members of the governing board of Hogwarts.” Mr Greengrass paused to let the information sink in.

Hermione tried not to squeak when Harry’s grip on her hand tightened. Harry’s nostrils flared, his face flushed and his stomach clenched. He opened and shut his mouth twice, swallowed uncomfortably, and steadied himself before speaking.

“So what am I supposed to do?” Harry asked as evenly as possible, his anger building, “I can’t just sit here and do nothing. If the Minister is looking for a legal maneouvre to get into Hogwarts, I should try and stop her by speaking out at the Wizengamot session.”

“I believe it is already too late for that Harry,” Mr Greengrass replied somberly. “And if you were to show up for the session, I think that you too will find yourself in detention under armed guard - and your godfather agrees. The only suggestion I have, is that you should appoint a proxy to at the very least vote on your behalf.”

Harry glanced at Hermione. She was as appalled as he was.

“Alright then,” Harry sighed in resignation. “The only problem is, I don’t really know anyone. Who should I appoint - and how will they know the right way to vote?”

Mr Greengrass smiled again; there was at least some small means by which he could help Harry Potter.

“My wife, Hippolyta, has already agreed to sit in your seat Harry - pending your approval of course...”

“But sir,” Hermione anxiously interrupted, sensing Harry’s skyrocketing alarm, “What if the Minister tries to arrest you and your wife too. I... I don’t think we could live with ourselves...”

Harry jumped in, “Hermione’s right Mr Greengrass. I... I really appreciate the offer; I really do. But... but I can’t let anyone else take the fall for me. I’d never be able to forgive myself if Daphne lost her parents.”

Several emotions crossed Cyril Greengrass’s features as he peered admiringly at Harry.

“That should be of little concern Harry,” he replied. “Our family is quite well connected. I do not believe the Minister will wish to risk losing her recently found majority on the Wizengamot by going after us. 

“I suspect that she would have done so already otherwise - as apparently, she has been harbouring the Malfoys and is preparing to have the Wizengamot ratify her Pardon of Draco...”

Hermione couldn’t help herself and hissed furiously. Harry’s head began to swim as his blood started to boil.

“So you mean...” Harry hoarsely started to say.

“Yes!” Mr Greengrass’s features went icy and rigid, “Draco Malfoy will likely be returning to Hogwarts...”

“And there is absolutely nothing I can do to prevent it,” Dumbledore quietly added.


	51. Summer's End: Part 2

“This is horrible!” Hermione fumed, still bristling as she departed with Harry from Dumbledore’s office. “It’s absolutely revolting... I can’t believe Draco Malfoy is returning to Hogwarts!”

“No wonder Daphne is so worried,” Harry responded in a calm voice which belied the crimson flush of anger on his cheeks. “But I’m not going to let anything happen to Daphne, Hermione... no matter what!”

“You mean _we’re_ not going to let anything happen to her!” said Hermione.

“Of course!” Harry agreed, “We’ll all be looking out for Daphne - and each other. That little arsewipe Draco won’t know what hit him if he tries anything. I’ll take off his other hand if I have to!” Harry concluded with a growl.

“At least one good thing has come out of it,” Hermione sighed. “Daphne will be able to use magic outside of Hogwarts without violating any laws if it comes down to it and she has to leave.”

“Yeah, that’s really good!” Harry nodded. “Daphne’ll be able to defend herself without activating the Trace now that it’s gone. I suppose I shouldn’t really be surprised that Mr Greengrass signed emancipation papers for her.”

When the Potters returned to their common room, they spied Daphne moping on a sofa near the unlit fireplace with Fleur and Dora who were trying to cheer her up.

“I knew something was wrong Daphne. I am glad zat you finally told us,” said Fleur.

“And don’t worry yourself Daphne,” said Dora. “We’ve all got your back.”

“I would have told you both sooner,” Daphne sniffled, “I just didn’t want to spoil things when Harry and Hermione first got back. I knew Dad would tell them... I still can’t believe I’m going to have to see Draco every day...”

“You don’t ‘ave to stick it out at Hogwarts,” Dora suggested. “I’m sure your parents would let you stay at home...”

“No!” Daphne scowled. “Dad said I could if I wanted to. But this is my school. Draco should be the one to leave - not me! If I let him chase me out, then he’s won... And I swear, if he makes any trouble, I’m going to make him pay for what he did to Astoria...”

“That’s the spirit Daphne!” said Harry, smiling darkly.

The three witches on the sofa all looked up to see Harry standing by the doorway with his arm around Hermione. Daphne smiled wanly at them both. Hermione gave Daphne a hug and sat down with Harry.

“We’re all here for you Daphne,” Hermione said sweetly, “And we’re not going to let that loathsome little cockroach get away with anything.”

“Thanks guys,” said Daphne, still looking a bit teary. “I’ll be alright... really! It’s still just a bit of a shock.”

“Yeah... for us too,” Harry sighed and peered around the common room. “Where’d everyone else go?”

“Ze others, they take a break from studying,” said Fleur. “But poor Daphne was too sad to go...”

“So we both thought we oughta stick around to see what was wrong,” Dora added.

“It’s nearly lunch time,” said Hermione. “Do you feel up to it Daphne? We can stay and have it here if you want to - Dobby can bring us some.”

“No, I really will be alright now.” Daphne smiled properly and dabbed at her tears. “I’m just being silly. I tried to hold it in after I talked to Dad, but I just couldn’t any longer - I feel loads better now... really. Thanks guys - you’re all great...”

The Potters went to look for the others with Dora, Fleur, and Daphne. They found nearly everyone at the quidditch pitch except for Luna and Ginny. When they all arrived in the Great Hall for lunch, Ginny and Luna were already at the Mingling Table. Ginny was glaring at a letter, her face as red as her hair, and Luna’s big eyes were popping, her mouth gaping in shock.

“What’s up?” asked Harry, wondering what had made Ginny so furious.

“I can’t bloody believe it!” Ginny fumed. “What a complete, utter, Tosspot!”

“What’s the matter Ginny?” Hermione inquired when Ginny didn’t directly answer Harry’s question.

“Percy the Prat - Percy the Pretentious Popinjay - Percy the Pathetic excuse for a human being - that’s what the matter is!” Ginny huffed angrily. 

“He sent Ginny a letter,” said Luna. “It’s really quite dreadful...”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up as alarm bells went off in his head, “How did he know you were here Ginny? It’s still summer...”

“He doesn’t,” Ginny replied. “He sent it to the Burrow a few days ago - that’s why I only just got it now. Mum sent it on to me. But she wouldn’t have if she’d read it - she’d have probably burned it and sent him back a howler. Here, read it. A lot of it is about you anyway...”

Ginny passed the letter to Harry, her hand shaking with rage. He sat down in his usual seat with Hermione at his side and they read it together while the others watched curiously.

_Dear Ginny,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. As you are about to begin your Fourth Year, I deemed it appropriate to give you advance notice of certain changes being planned for Hogwarts, as you are my favourite sister and I do not wish to see you become entangled in the web of Dumbledore’s lies, nor fall victim to another one of his blood-feuds in his quest for power._

Harry almost started to laugh when he read the bit about Ginny being Percy’s favourite sister, but the look of humour slid from his face as he continued reading.

_You are the only family member who has ever treated me with a modicum of respect - except perhaps our mother, despite having been compromised by our father’s misguided ideals - and you are young enough that I feel you can still be dissuaded from falling for the dangerous propaganda which has long ensnared our parents and twisted their minds beyond reason._

_I feel it is unfortunately too late to say the same for our brothers - though I do hold out some hopes for Ron. For too long have they been plied with Dumbledore’s unfounded and baseless rhetoric regarding the “fair” treatment of Muggleborns_

_It may surprise you to learn this, but the Headmaster really has very little concern for the Muggleborn. In fact, the Minister’s investigation is uncovering very disturbing details about his past which will soon be revealed in a thoroughly documented exposé in the Daily Prophet. When considered alongside the evidence of Dumbledore’s current treasonous activities, it shall substantiate this fact._

_Dumbledore’s “concern” for the muggleborn who are stealing our heritage and wiping their behinds with the traditions of real wizards is nothing but a front. He is using them and their lack of knowledge and respect for wizarding tradition and culture to gain power and take over the Ministry. He is little more than a violent revolutionary who is plotting to upend everything we hold dear, flout the Natural Order, and destroy the Rule of Law._

_It is to this end that Dumbledore has long promoted the Cult of Harry Potter, a violent and dangerous criminal who purports to come from a long line of wizards, yet who is known to have been raised by Muggles. I know that you have always had a soft spot for Potter, based on Dumbledore’s fairy tales about an infant who “saved” the wizard world from the “Dark Wizard” known as Voldemort._

_Nothing could be further from the truth. Yes, Voldemort’s methods have been dangerously irresponsible and disruptive, but it has become clear (under the exceptional tutelage of our delightful Minister) that Voldemort felt that he was forced to act outside the Law to counter Dumbledore’s longtime meddling in Ministry affairs. Are you aware that Dumbledore’s seditious dirty-blood policies have been diluting our wizarding culture and genetic heritage since at least the late 1940’s?_

_In any case, I urge you to stay as far away from Harry Potter and his pet Muggleborn as possible. The Minister’s investigation is certain to eventually implicate Potter and his Pet. As you are no doubt aware from the Daily Prophet’s exceptional coverage, Potter and his Muggleborn were hauled up before the Wizengamot at the beginning of the summer on charges of murdering over 400 sentient beings and violating the International Statute of Secrecy._

_As I was a key part of the investigation and prosecution of Potter and his Muggleborn partner in crime, I can assure you, they got off on a mere technicality. They will not be so lucky next time. I do not wish to see you harmed in any way when the Potters are finally apprehended. It may be some time before the investigation yields any fresh fruit in that regard, but until then, please give Potter and his other half a wide berth._

_This next bit, you must keep entirely to yourself. If all goes well in the Wizengamot later this week, and they accept the recommendations of the Educational Oversight Committee (and I have no doubt that they will) Inquisitors will be dispatched to Hogwarts to continue the investigation of Dumbledore and his Cronies, and to begin the implementation of new policies to facilitate an improved educational experience._

_Please give these Inquisitors your utmost cooperation. If you do, your rewards shall be handsome indeed, and you will be able to take pride in yourself for having assisted in deposing one of the greatest threats that wizarding Britain has ever faced._

_It would perhaps be best for you to burn this after reading to prevent Dumbledore’s operatives (our parents) from learning of the Minister’s plans to extend her authority over Hogwarts. It would not do to tip-off the headmaster and give him the opportunity to cover his tracks and escape Justice. For too long has Dumbledore believed that he could destroy the Traditions and Ancient Laws of our culture with impunity._

_I place my utmost faith and trust in you, my precious sister._

_Your brother,  
Percy_

Harry felt really ill when he finished reading Percy’s screed. He glanced at Hermione. She was as white as a sheet, and her eyes as big as saucers. Speechless, Harry passed the letter around the table for the rest of their friends to read.

Fleur and Daphne both gasped in horror and Viktor raised his eyebrows.

“Your _brother_ wrote that?” said Neville, sounding utterly bewildered.

“He might as well have called you a mudblood, Hermione,” Parvati spat furiously, nearly in tears, “the way he goes on about you - like you’re not even human.”

“Is he for real?” asked Jennifer, feeling a sudden chill. It hit her hard, for the first time realising how much danger she might still be in. It was one thing to be targeted by ruthless criminals, but to be in the crosshairs of the government was another thing altogether. 

“I knew ‘e was a bad apple - suckin’ up to the Minister,” said Dora, “But ‘e’s gone completely off his nut. He sounds like a bloody Malfoy! It’s ‘ard to believe he was ever a Weasley... sorry Ginny!”

Ginny had a murderous expression on her face. “Don’t be sorry! I can’t believe it either!”

“We’d better take this to Dumbledore, Harry.” Hermione glanced at Ginny. 

“Take it!” said Ginny bitterly. She had no desire to keep the letter.

“We might as well take it now,” Harry said woodenly. “I’m not really hungry anymore anyway.”

Hermione left the table with Harry and for the second time that day they found themselves in the headmaster’s office, discussing the perilous road ahead of them.

**~o0o~**

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon spectacles and sighed heavily as he read Percy Weasley’s letter to his sister yet again. The second conversation with the Potters had been lengthy and even more unsettling than the one they had all had with Mr Greengrass earlier that morning. 

It had taken a great emotional toll upon Dumbledore, speaking of things of a deeply personal nature, revealing the dark travails of his past to the Potters. But it had been an absolute necessity; Harry and his wife deserved to hear the truth from the headmaster’s own lips before seeing it distorted in the pages of the _Daily Prophet_.

He had told them everything: the violent sexual assault upon his little sister Ariana by three muggle boys, the vengeance of his father and his father’s subsequent sentence to Azkaban, Dumbledore’s own dark misgivings about muggles following his sister’s violation. 

Dumbledore revealed his shortlived dalliance with Gellert Grindelwald and their plans to subjugate muggles, which had come to a violent end when Dumbledore had realised that Gellert’s goals included the wholesale slaughter of muggles. And Dumbledore disclosed his biggest regret of all - his most painful regret - the death of his sister during the fight with Gellert.

The subject of the Deathly Hallows was broached when Dumbledore revealed how he had for many years sought after the Resurrection Stone, and how he had eventually come to possess the Elder Wand after his final battle with Grindelwald. At that point, Dumbledore knew that the time had come to pass on the Resurrection Stone to Harry.

Dumbledore dispensed with tea following his conversation with the Potters, and instead indulged in several shots of Ogden’s Finest Firewhiskey. Fawkes ruffled his feathers, eyeing the headmaster with concern. 

“Never fear Fawkes,” the headmaster sighed, feeling a bit steadier. “I am quite alright now.” 

Dumbledore’s expression turned to amusement when he caught the eye of one of the portraits on his wall. The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black snorted.

“Really Dumbledore...” the sour looking portrait sniffed disdainfully, “are you simply going to let the Minister’s puppets just waltz on in and take over Hogwarts? I thought you were smarter than that. Back in MY day, the Ministry would have never dared dream of it.”

The headmaster couldn’t help chuckling at the pompous portrait’s boastfulness.

“Now, now Phineas, back in your day, the Ministry and Hogwarts were aligned completely in promoting a philosophy of Pureblood Supremacy - albeit not quite such an extreme version to be sure. Spare me the braggadocio,” retorted Dumbledore.

Dumbledore noted with satisfaction that Phineas actually looked slightly ashamed.

“My apologies Dumbledore,” Phineas replied, “Old habits die hard. It is still quite difficult for me to accept that there may be a few among the Muggleborn who might be as competent as those of such regal blood as myself, and I cannot say that I entirely approve of all of the changes you have been instituting over the years.

“But I concede that such may be necessary if wizards should hope to progress and keep up with the evolution of Muggle technology - I have witnessed their advances through my portrait in London at the National Portrait Gallery,” Phineas concluded with a weary sigh.

“Can I count on you to do your utmost to protect all the students of Hogwarts then - including the Muggleborn - if I should be forced to depart?” Dumbledore peered expectantly at Phineas.

The portrait of Phineas Nigellus fidgeted uncomfortably in his frame. Finally he nodded.

“Yes! You have my word. I am loyal to Hogwarts and its students,” Phineas answered. “And I have little respect for those such as Voldemort and the Minister who can only advance their ideology through deception and murder as you well know. 

“If those of superior blood and standing - such as myself of course - cannot lead by example, then perhaps we do not deserve to lead the wizard world.”

Many of the other portraits of Hogwarts’ past headmasters gasped in astonishment. The old Slytherin headmaster’s frank admissions and change of heart were unexpected. A few of the portraits applauded and nodded in agreement.

“Hear, hear... Well said Headmaster Black!” the portrait of a witch in healer’s robes commended him.

“I could not agree with Dilys more!” concurred the portrait of Armando Dippet. “Jolly good show Phineas! As headmasters, we are honour-bound by our duties to Hogwarts and to do our best by the students - each and every one of them.”

“Thank you Headmistress Derwent - and you have my gratitude Armando,” Phineas responded stiffly.

Dumbledore’s eyes began to twinkle. The portrait of Phineas Nigellus wasn’t used to being lauded by the other headmasters.

“Yes, very good indeed, Phineas!” said Dumbledore, “Thank you very kindly for your support.” Then Dumbledore addressed all of the portraits on the wall.

“Much has been said here today which was not only of a personal nature, but also some highly sensitive information which must not be imparted to others. I trust that you will all remain silent on that matter...”

**~o0o~**

The late summer sun sparkled on the shimmering surface of the water as Harry and Hermione walked in silence along the edge of the lake, letting the headmaster’s story of his turbulent youth sink in. They found themselves a comfortable place to sit and watch a few geese play and dive for fish.

Harry put his arm around Hermione as she wrapped hers around his waist, leaning into his shoulder.

“Poor Professor Dumbledore,” sniffled Hermione half balefully and half angrily, “That was so sad about his sister. Those _awful_ muggle boys. It was vile and despicable what they did to her - she was so little. They deserved everything his father did to them. It’s no wonder that Dumbledore used to believe in Gellert Grindelwald’s rubbish - that wizards should rule over muggles.”

“And then to lose Ariana in the crossfire when he fought Grindelwald - his best friend,” Harry responded somberly. “I’m glad Dumbledore finally found the Resurrection Stone. That must have been horrid - living for all those years not knowing if he’d killed his own sister... At least he doesn’t have that hanging over him anymore.”

They both sat in quiet rumination for a bit. The golden ring with the cracked black gem glittered in the sunlight as it sat in the palm of Harry’s hand. Then he leaned over and kissed Hermione’s bushy head.

“And you were absolutely right about the story of the Three Brothers Hermione,” Harry murmured. “They really did create those three magical artifacts - the Deathly Hallows. I can't believe that Dumbledore has the Elder Wand. Just to think - between him and me, we have all three of them - that’s amazing!”

“We’ll have to keep that bit to ourselves,” said Hermione. “It’s better that most people think they’re a myth.”

**~o0o~**

The gathering in the Shrieking Shack that evening with Sirius and Lupin was more subdued than it might have been under different circumstances, but the Potters and their friends managed to summon a bit of good cheer nonetheless. Dora and Jennifer played a few tunes on guitar and piano as they had before, and after a few songs the Potters joined Lupin and Sirius in conversation.

“There’s going to be an Order meeting tomorrow night,” said Sirius, downing a shot of firewhisky. “Is it true that there will some ‘additional staff members’ when term starts? And that Draco Malfoy would be returning? That’s all Dumbledore told Remus.”

“Yeah... at least according to Percy’s letter to Ginny,” Harry replied with a sigh.

“‘Inquisitors’ he called them...” Hermione huffed crossly.

“They’re continuing the ‘investigation,’” growled Harry. “They’re going to try and get rid of Dumbledore apparently - and go after Hermione and me if they can catch us out in anything. And Draco’s being pardoned by the Minister.”

Lupin’s face fell, “Harry, you have to promise me you will keep a cool head - Azkaban may no longer be a threat, but the Ministry no doubt has some sort of detention facility...”

“I understand, Remus,” Harry interjected, “I’ll keep my nose clean and do my best to stay out of their way...”

Alarm spread across Sirius’s features and he gripped the arm of his chair tightly. “Harry, perhaps you and Hermione should leave Hogwarts until we sort this out - maybe hole up at Number Twelve for a bit.”

 _“What?”_ Harry was stunned. “I... I can’t do that - I’m not going to run away from a...”

“...From a fight Harry?” Lupin raised his eyebrows. “Is that what you were going to say?”

Harry opened and shut his mouth as his cheeks flushed. Hermione took his hand and squeezed it, saying nothing. Hermione was beginning to think that Sirius might be right, but she knew that Harry would have to make his own decision, and she was going to support him whatever it was.

“Look...” Harry began, his jaw tightening, “I can’t just not go to school - and I’m not going to hide out at Number Twelve while everyone else might be in danger...”

“Please Harry, at least consider it as an option!” Sirius pleaded. “Your safety and Hermione’s is my top concern... It might be wise to take your friends too. This isn’t the same as fighting Voldemort head on. 

“Anyway, from my understanding, you and Hermione know nearly as much about using magic as most adults who have graduated Hogwarts - perhaps more even in certain subjects. The rest you can learn from books and study on your own for the immediate future.”

“Sirius is right Harry,” Lupin quietly agreed. “OWL’s and NEWT’s can wait for now if you so wish - and frankly your knowledge in some of the key subjects is advanced enough for you to bide your time. And you have demonstrated beyond a shadow of a doubt that your skills and power are prodigious. You and Hermione both could easily make a life for yourself with what you know if it came down to it.”

Harry was staggered to hear that Sirius and Remus believed that he and Hermione were knowledgeable enough to leave Hogwarts already. He glanced at Hermione and could see the trepidation in her eyes, and he knew that Sirius was right about the danger of facing a foe who hid behind a veil of legitimacy.

But it rankled Harry to shy from a challenge. It was like letting the Minister and Draco Malfoy win. Lupin, Sirius, and Hermione waited patiently for Harry to say something.

“Harry, the Order will do everything in its power to expose the Minister’s corruption to the public,” Lupin proffered as the young wizard remained silent. “Once that is achieved, we can tackle her and the Ministry directly, and throw whomever she sends to Hogwarts out on their ear now that we know Hogwarts will withstand attack.

“And I’m sure that Madame Maxime will take you and your friends at Beauxbatons in the meantime if you wish to stay with a proper school curriculum. But ultimately, the choice is yours.”

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself.

Finally Harry opened his eyes and spoke again, “If I absolutely have to leave, I will - but I’ve got to at least try to stick it out for a bit. It’s not just about me and Hermione anymore... There’s all the other muggleborn to think of, and whatever happens, I’m not leaving Britain.”

“Hear hear!” said Ginny, startling the four engaged in conversation. She and Luna had stopped dancing to take a breather and overheard much of the conversation. “Luna and I are with you a hundred percent Harry... whatever you decide to do.”

“That’s right,” chimed in Luna. “If you and Hermione want to stay, then we will too. And if you want to leave, then we’ll both go with you.”

“Oh, er...” Ginny glanced at Luna, not sure what to say, as that wasn’t quite what she had meant.

Harry suddenly realised that the music had stopped. Everyone was eyeing him now - including Viktor and Neville. He swallowed nervously when it hit him that whatever decision he made would affect all of his and Hermione’s friends. 

Staying was a dangerous option with the Minister’s lackeys coming to Hogwarts. But leaving didn’t seem much safer either as there was no way he was going to leave Britain or hide out indefinitely at Number Twelve. 

“Of course...” Harry’s mouth was dry and he took another sip of his butterbeer. “Of course, anyone’s welcome to join me and Hermione if we go. But... but what about the Trace. Except for Dora, Viktor, and Fleur you’re all still underage...”

“Except for Daphne,” Hermione reminded Harry. “Daphne’s parents emancipated her...”

“Oh yeah...” said Harry, glancing at Daphne.

“Of course I’ll come with you guys,” Daphne quickly chimed in, eager for something to give her a sense of purpose. 

“Jennifer won’t ‘ave a Trace on her,” said Dora. “She wasn’t born a wizard and she’s not been registered with the Ministry.”

“And Daddy already emancipated me a month ago...” Luna grinned.

“As did my parents,” Parvati interjected. “They emancipated me and Padma when they joined the Order in case we had to use magic outside of school...”

“Gran’ll never go for it,” said Neville glumly. 

“Mum and Dad would never emancipate me either,” grumbled Ginny.

“Oh... I didn’t think of that,” said Luna sadly. 

“Don’t worry Luna. I suppose I’ll be safe enough here,” Ginny sighed. “I don’t think Percy would let anything bad happen to me or Ron - he thinks he can ‘save’ us from Mum and Dad if his letter is any indication...” Ginny rolled her eyes. “...But if Harry and Hermione have to go, you should go with them...”

“I couldn’t go without you Ginny...”

“No... really! You should go if Harry and Hermione do, Luna - they’ll need all the help they can get...”

“Look... I’m really talking about _staying_ here at Hogwarts anyway...” said Harry. “I don’t want to leave unless we really have to...”

“Either vay, Harry,” said Viktor, “I think I stay at Hogwarts to look after Lavender. I vill help other students too.” 

“And we’re all staying if you do Harry...” Luna gave Harry a hard stare, having made up her mind. “But Ginny’s right - you’ll need help if you go, because I know you’re not just going to hide...”

Harry looked at Hermione again as he wavered. He wasn’t sure what to do. There was Jennifer and all of the muggleborn at Hogwarts to think about. Jennifer hadn’t said anything, but Harry could tell from the look on her face that she was prepared to join him and Hermione no matter what they decided. 

Hermione put her arm around Harry and gave him a kiss. “It’s okay Harry. Obviously not everyone can come if we leave. But whatever you want to do, we’re all behind you Harry.”

Harry took off his glasses and sighed, rubbing his forehead. It looked like no matter what he decided, his and Hermione’s friends would be following his lead either way. He hated the idea of leaving anyone behind, but he knew that those who still had the Trace might be better off at Hogwarts. He set his jaw firmly as decided to go with his initial choice.

“Right then - we’ll stay at Hogwarts for now,” said Harry firmly as he gazed at his steadfast friends. “But if things get too hot for us here, we’ll go back home and work out what we can do to foil the Minister from there... and anyone without the Trace who wants to come is more than welcome to join Hermione and me.”

Lupin and Sirius smiled at each other, knowing that James and Lily would have made exactly the same decision.

**~o0o~**

It was still early when Harry woke and he felt at peace, Hermione’s minty breath caressing the skin of Harry’s neck, her hand resting on his chest, her hair spilling over his shoulder. He smiled, letting out a deep sigh of contentment.

Let the Minister’s agents come. He was ready. With Hermione and his friends, Harry had faced Voldemort and an army of his monsters and minions, living to tell the tale. 

He began to drift through the recent memories of that battle, surprised that the images of death and carnage littering the grounds of Hogwarts hadn’t affected him as badly as he’d thought they might - especially considering that he still had the occasional bad dream about the horrible night that Voldemort had returned.

Harry definitely felt a measure of sadness and pity for those who had chosen to kill and die in the service of a madman, but mostly Harry felt happy that Hermione and his friends had survived, none the worse for the wear of battle.

Without bidding, Harry’s thoughts turned again to the story of the Three Brothers again, and the magical artifacts which they had created as he absentmindedly stroked Hermione’s tawny locks. He wasn’t really sure why his mind was making the connection, or why he kept thinking about the Hallows.

After Hermione woke, they both had a shower and dressed. It was still a bit early for breakfast, so they shared a pot of tea in their sitting room. Harry took a sip from his teacup, his thoughts still strolling down the same path they had traversed as he had awoken.

“Hermione, I keep thinking about the Hallows, and for some reason Tom Riddle comes into it - even though there doesn’t seem to be a direct connection...”

Hermione’s brows furrowed in thought. She sipped her own tea as she considered the possibilities.

“I think it must have something to do with the ‘Master of Death’ business Harry,” Hermione finally responded. “Whoever has all three Hallows is supposed to be the ‘Master of Death,’ and Voldemort was obsessed with beating Death...”

“Of course!” said Harry, smacking his forehead. “That’s it! Voldemort used Horcruxes to conquer death - and it worked for a bit until we found them all. He even called himself the Master of Death right towards the end of the battle.

“The only thing is, I don’t really understand why anyone would actually think that having the Hallows would really make someone a ‘Master of Death’...It’s rather disgusting, but Horcruxes almost make more sense in terms of actually ‘defeating’ Death.

“It’s not like the Hallows actually prevent Death - the Resurrection Stone doesn’t even really bring people back to life. Does it make any sense to you?”

Hermione shook her head. “Not really Harry! You’re right, the Resurrection Stone only brings back a person’s spirit and soul - a bit like a ghost. It’s not like they would have an actual body.”

“Right,” Harry agreed, “and the wand is just really powerful, and good for _**causing**_ lots of death. And the cloak... well, it’s really just an amazingly good invisibility cloak. So why would anyone be so obsessed with having all three of them? ”

Hermione nodded in agreement.

“That’s a good point Harry. I think it’s just the legend that was built up around the Peverell brothers and their creations. Even though Hallows Seekers know the real story, they’re still enthralled by the mystique of the Myth - that the Hallows were a gift from a personification of Death.

“The Fairy Tale imbues the items with more meaning than they would otherwise have. And so Seekers believe that having all three artifacts would make them more or less invincible, which they then - perhaps on a subconscious level - equate with immortality.”

“Yeah... that makes sense,” Harry replied. “I guess most people are just scared of death - and almost everyone wants something like a Philosopher’s Stone, the Hallows, or Horcruxes. The weird thing is, I... I’m not really scared of dying myself...”

Harry swallowed as it hit him that he couldn’t let his guard down or get cocky. “I’m more frightened by the idea of you or any of our friends dying. I... I don’t think I could bear it. 

“Hermione - what if I’m wrong? Am I being thick? Maybe we should all get out of here right now, before... before something bad happens...”

Hermione bit her lower lip in consternation. She put her cup of tea down on the coffee table and embraced Harry, giving him a gentle kiss.

“No Harry - you’re being very brave... being a leader,” Hermione encouraged him. “You always put others first and you don’t let being afraid stop you from confronting evil no matter how bleak the odds seem, or how anxious you might get.

“And you’ve put a lot of thought into this decision - you’re not just rushing into things bullheadedly. I'm certain that you’re doing the right thing,” Hermione concluded, kissing Harry again.

Hermione felt Harry relax in her arms. When they finished kissing, Harry smiled and gazed into her gentle eyes, feeling reassured and at peace again.

“Thanks Hermione! I needed that.”

**~o0o~**

Hedwig nudged Harry affectionately after wolfing down the sausage he had given her. Harry stroked her feathers, peering happily at his and Hermione’s friends as they ate breakfast in the Great Hall. Ginny thankfully seemed to have cheered up and put Percy’s letter out of her head.

Harry glanced over at the Slytherin table, seeing Theodore Nott sitting miserably by himself, clumsily spooning porridge into his mouth with his left hand - the one which still had fingers attached. Harry swallowed uncomfortably, a piece of bacon sticking in his throat.

His anger towards Nott having dissipated since Nott’s return to Hogwarts, Harry couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty. Dabbing his lips with his napkin first, Harry gave Hermione a peck on the cheek.

“I’ll be back in just a minute Hermione. Wait here...”

Hermione watched Harry amble over to the Slytherin table, smiling proudly at her husband. Harry sat himself across the table from the Slytherin boy and cleared his throat. Theodore Nott shifted awkwardly in his seat; he flushed and cast his eyes down.

“Erm...” said Harry, looking more than a bit ashamed himself. “I’m really sorry Nott. I shouldn’t have... er... done what I did to you...” 

Theodore looked up at Harry, confused. “I... I don’t understand. Why are you sorry?”

“Well... er... it’s not like you were actually doing much. I was really angry with Malfoy, and you just happened to be there...”

“No!” Theodore shook his head. “No... that’s not true. I know I had it coming. I didn’t just happen to be there... I helped Draco escape and kidnap Astoria... and I’m the one who actually carried Astoria - it’s not like Draco would’ve actually done the hard work. Besides... erm...”

Theodore gulped. The next bit was the hardest to own up to, and he wasn’t sure if he could actually say it. He cast his eyes down again, his face turning an even deeper shade of red.

“Besides...” he began again, his voice hoarse, “Draco promised me a turn... a t...turn with Astoria... And I was going to...I was going to...” Nott let out a sob, tears welling in his eyes.

“...I’m really horrible... I’m an awful, disgusting person. I totally deserved what you did to me. I sometimes I wish you’d killed me so I didn’t have to feel so bad about myself...” 

Harry was completely taken aback; he gaped at Nott in shock. Harry knew that Nott was remorseful, but he hadn’t really expected to hear such a frank admission. If anything, Nott’s utter contrition just made Harry feel even worse.

“Er... well... look,” said Harry, “if it’s any consolation, you didn’t get a chance to follow through. And... and you feel really bad for even just thinking about it... that’s got to count for something. And... and you saved Luna. That proves you’re not as bad as you think you are... really! 

“We all told Dumbledore to let you come back to Hogwarts because we know you’ve changed... you’re not the same person anymore. What you deserve is a second chance... a chance to make things right.

“You shouldn’t have to feel so awful that you want to die... you deserve better than that as long as you do better - that’s it... that’s all you have to do - just be a kind person. And you’ll need to be strong... to be brave. Because Malfoy will probably be returning to Hogwarts in a few days with the rest of the students...”

Nott visibly paled at the revelation.

“Fuck, that’s bolloxed!” swore Nott as he massaged his forehead, looking pained. “I’d hoped I’d never see him again. I swear Potter... I don’t want anything to do with Malfoy or any of his crowd anymore.”

Nott gulped, looking fearful as the gory terrors he’d witnessed flashed before his mind. “I... I’ve seen what true evil looks like,” he gasped, “and I never want to see it again. I promise, I’ll do better... I’ll do whatever you want me to do to show you I mean it.”

“Alright then...” Harry smiled awkwardly. “I’ll hold you to that promise - I might need your help at some point, and you’ll need to keep an eye on Malfoy and whoever aligns with him when school starts. But for now, why don’t you join us for the rest of breakfast, okay?”

Theodore Nott’s eyes widened in surprise. “R...really? Are you serious... Potter?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, reaching his hand across the table, “I mean it. And my friends call me Harry...”

“Th...thanks... Harry,” Nott replied, a tear trickling down his cheek as he took Harry’s hand and shook it. “Mine usually call me Theo...”

**~o0o~**

Along with the others, the Potters helped Jennifer prepare for her exams. Before they knew it Wednesday was upon them. Knowing Jennifer would be spending the next six hours on written tests and practical spellwork with the professors, everyone else took a well deserved rest.

Harry and Viktor chased a Snitch on their brooms for a bit while the others flew around and tossed the quaffle through hoops. They both managed to catch it several times each. Seeing Hermione reading in the stands below, Harry figured it was time to take a break from flying and spend the rest of the day with her.

Hermione perked up when she saw Harry approaching. Grinning, she put the book in her bag and followed Harry down to the lawn. They lay on their backs in the grass, looking up at the sky as the others continued flying. 

“So, what were you reading Hermione?” asked Harry.

“A ridiculously advanced Charms book from the library,” she replied, her eyes lighting up. “I was really curious as to how Dumbledore managed to turn the portrait guarding the entrance to our ‘House’ into a portal. Here let me show you...”

Hermione rolled onto her front and eagerly retrieved the book from her bag. She flicked a number of pages until she found the right one and pointed at the spell. Harry leaned over to take a look.

“Pictura Portus eh?” said Harry. “Blimey, the wand movements look complicated. So can we use this on any painting then?”

“Yes... even Muggle paintings apparently,” Hermione replied excitedly, “You can jump into the picture, and then you can pop out of the frame from any copy of it, wherever the picture might be.”

“We could go also from picture to picture just like the portraits do in the castle. We’d be able to enter and exit from any painting within the same building, but only travel between the copies of a painting from one building to another. Of course, the portal to our corridor has other charms too, to prevent anyone but us getting in.”

“Wow! That’s brilliant!” Harry’s eyes gleamed as a thought occurred to him. “That could come in really handy in a pinch Hermione. If we had to leave Hogwarts fast, we could get to the painting of Phineas Nigellus in Dumbledore’s office and exit through the copy at Number Twelve...”

Hermione gasped. “You’re right Harry... that hadn’t even occurred to me yet.”

“I bet it would have though,” said Harry with a grin. “Let’s leave the others to it for a bit then. I think you deserve a reward for finding the spell.”

**~o0o~**

The tinkling of piano keys and a lilting melody caught Harry’s ear. He looked up from the “ridiculously advanced” Charms book which he had been studying intently, thinking that he hadn’t noticed Jennifer or Dora returning. To his surprise, it was Hermione who was sitting at the grand piano in the corner of the Unaffiliated common room.

“That’s beautiful Hermione. I didn’t know you could play...”

“I learned how when I was little. I used to play a fair bit before I came to Hogwarts,” Hermione beamed happily at Harry’s compliment. “I wanted to see if I still knew how...”

“I’d say you do,” said Harry in admiration as Hermione’s fingers danced rapidly across the keyboard during a fast bit of the song. “What is that tune?”

“It’s _Für Elise_ by Beethoven. I can show you how to play it if you’d like.”

“Maybe another time,” responded Harry. “Why didn’t you ever play the piano at Number Twelve?”

Hermione blushed. “I’m not sure really. I suppose I just never got around to it. There’s always been something else going on and... and I think I was just a bit embarrassed to play in front of other people in case I’d forgotten how.

“Besides,” continued Hermione, “there was so much about being a Muggle that you missed living with the Dursleys. I enjoyed spending time with you in London every chance we got - the cinema, plays, London parks, the museums...”

“The library,” Harry chortled. “Anyway Hermione, you don’t have to be embarrassed to play in front of anyone. You’re obviously brilliant at the piano - easily as good as Dora or Jennifer...”

Hermione stopped playing; she flew across the common room in a trice and pounced on Harry, pinning him to the sofa and snogging him silly. The Potters were so lost in each other that they were startled when two girls burst into the room squealing.

“I did it... I passed everything,” Jennifer shrieked gleefully.

“She was amazing!” exclaimed Dora. “Jennifer got two Outstandings and E’s on nearly everything else...”

“Well... I only got Acceptables on History of Magic and Potions,” Jennifer interjected. “But still, I never thought I’d pass those at all.”

“That’s fantastic Jen...” Harry began.

The Potters and Dora were distracted from Jennifer’s giddy exuberance when everyone else entered the common room. 

“I take it you passed all of your exams then,” said Luna, beaming when she saw how cheerful Jennifer was.

“I did...” said Jennifer. “I even got Outstandings in Defence and Charms...”

“That’s brilliant Jennifer,” said Ginny. “I knew you could do it.”

Daphne and Fleur offered their congratulations as well. There was a loud cracking sound, catching everyone’s attention. Dobby had arrived with a large cake in one hand, and a full picnic basket in the other.

“Excellent timing Dobby!” Harry grinned at the happy house-elf. 

“Congratulations Missy Jennifer,” squeaked Dobby. “Harry Potter asks Dobby to prepare for Missy Jennifer’s celebration.” Dobby turned beet red when Jennifer embraced him and kissed him on the cheek. Speechless, Dobby began to hyperventilate.

“D...Dobby m...must be going now....” the thrilled and embarrassed House Elf stammered. “I... I is needed in the kitchen...” Dobby vanished with a popping sound.

“Thanks Harry,” said Jennifer, a puzzled expression on her face. “But how did you know I would pass everything?”

“There was never any doubt...” Harry grinned.

“You’ve been working really hard,” said Hermione earnestly. “We knew you would make it.”

The Potters and their friends gorged themselves in the common room until they could eat and drink no more. They lazed on the sofas and chairs contentedly until it was time for Jennifer to return to the quarters which she shared with Hestia Jones.

The following morning, when the Potters arrived with Daphne, Dora and Fleur in the Great Hall, they found an exhilarated Jennifer already waiting for them. She could barely contain herself as the others seated themselves. Hermione was just about to ask her why she was so thrilled, but Jennifer burst and her words tumbled out before anyone had a chance to say anything.

“I’m going to move in with you lot,” Jennifer squealed. “Hestia told me last night when I got back to our quarters. Dumbledore told her that it would be for the best as term is going to start tomorrow.”

“Excellent,” Harry grinned. “You’ll be much safer in with the rest of us.”

“Oh,” said Daphne. “I’m the only one without a roommate at the moment - you can stay with me if you’d like.”

“I’d love that,” Jennifer beamed. “I’ll move my things in after breakfast.”

As Thursday wore on, after everyone had helped her move into Daphne’s quarters in the Unaffiliated corridor, Jennifer began to get more and more nervous. Finally the evening arrived, the night before term was set to begin. And when it came time, Jennifer climbed into her four-poster bed, feeling very anxious. 

Tomorrow evening the Start of Term feast would be held, and with it would come a school full of people that Jennifer had never met. She tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. Daphne turned on her bedside lamp and peered sympathetically at her new roommate. 

“Are you alright Jennifer?” she asked.

“Er... I’m a bit frightened about tomorrow to be honest,” Jennifer admitted ruefully, “and I can’t sleep.”

Even though she’d only known Jennifer for barely a couple of weeks, Daphne’s heart went out to her. Daphne knew that Jennifer had been through a terrible ordeal, and was probably having a hard time coping with the idea of being around so many people. Daphne thought about what she would do whenever Astoria was anxious or upset, and wondered if it would be a comfort to Jennifer. 

She wasn’t certain if Jennifer was ready to be that close to anyone, but Daphne supposed it wouldn’t hurt to ask if she’d like a cuddle.

“Erm... I know you don’t know me very well, but... er... if you don’t want to be alone, there’s plenty of room in my bed.”

Jennifer hesitated, considering Daphne’s offer. Jennifer supposed that even if it was a bit of a come on, she wouldn’t mind. It was true that they hadn’t been acquainted for very long, but as far as Jennifer could tell, Daphne was really sweet and there was something about her that Jennifer really liked. 

Jennifer was much keener on girls than boys at the moment - in fact, despite feeling better over-all since the day she had been turned into a witch, she wasn’t certain if she’d ever really be comfortable with a boy again. She couldn’t really tell if Daphne liked girls in that way though. Maybe she was just trying to be nice. Jennifer finally decided to accept and just see where things led.

“Er... well, if you’re sure you don’t mind,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too eager. 

“Of course not...” Daphne smiled invitingly. “Come on then.”

Jennifer beamed and clambered into Daphne’s bed, pulling up the covers. She lay there for a few moments, feeling slightly awkward. She really just wanted a bit of a cuddle, but was afraid to say anything and put Daphne off her. Taking a deep breath, she finally decided to just go for it.

“Erm... would you mind just... er... just holding me for a bit Daphne?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Daphne replied, snuggling right up next to Jennifer.

Jennifer sighed contentedly, feeling safe, and soon drifted into a sound slumber in Daphne’s arms.


	52. Nobody Expects the Inquisition

There wasn’t much to do on Friday except to lounge around and await the arrival of the other students via the Hogwarts Express that evening. Everyone decided to make the best of it outside for as long as they could as clouds were moving in, threatening a rainy late afternoon

Jennifer joined Daphne and Parvati for a picnic with the Potters by the edge of the lake. Ginny and Luna were off snogging somewhere, and Jennifer presumed that Fleur and Dora were similarly occupied. Jennifer wasn’t sure what Viktor and Neville were up to, maybe flying around the quidditch pitch, eagerly anticipating the arrival of their girlfriends. 

Parvati was animatedly engaged in conversation with the Potters. Jennifer smiled to herself when she noticed Daphne glancing wistfully in the Potters direction. It wasn’t the first time she had noticed it either.

“You like him don’t you?” Jennifer murmured.

“Er... what?” Daphne quickly looked away from the Potters, turning slightly pink.

“Harry... you like him.”

“Er... I suppose... as a friend...” But the deepening of Daphne’s blush told another story. Jennifer raised her eyebrows skeptically.

“Oh, alright then,” grumbled Daphne, knowing she’d been caught out. “I’ve liked him ever since he saved me from Draco - twice. But he’s married and Hermione’s my friend, so I know there’s nothing to be done about it.”

“Aren’t there any other boys at Hogwarts that you like?” asked Jennifer. Daphne hesitated for a moment, a pensive expression on her face.

“Well... There aren’t really any guys in Slytherin that I fancy,” Daphne replied. “And I don’t really know anyone from the other Houses, because they all tend to stay away from Slytherins. I suppose I like George Weasley a bit - he’s one of Ginny’s brothers - but he’s taken too, by Alicia Spinnet.” 

Daphne sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever meet a boy I like at Hogwarts.”

Jennifer didn’t respond right away. She sat there thoughtfully for a minute. 

“What about any girls?” Jennifer queried coyly. Well, she had to ask! The conversation had led to the perfect opportunity to put it out there.

“Oh... er...” Daphne seemed surprised by the question. “Honestly, I don’t know... I’ve never really thought about that - I’ve always liked guys. I suppose there have been a couple of girls I’ve... er... noticed - but I wasn’t sure if it really meant anything. I guess I could try and see if I liked being with a girl. What about you?”

“It really depends on the person,” said Jennifer. “I’ve always been attracted to certain guys _and_ girls... Though I have to admit, I’m rather off guys at the moment - I’m not sure if I’d ever really be comfortable with a boy again, after... erm...”

“Yeah... I understand,” said Daphne gently, looking distraught. “My sister Astoria still has nightmares - all the time. I don’t know if she’ll ever really get over it. Draco was pretty rough with her...” 

Jennifer bit her lip and sat there feeling sad for Daphne’s sister. A few minutes passed in silence. Daphne’s expression changed to one of thoughtfulness as she watched Jennifer; she wondered if there was more going on behind the conversation.

“Erm... do you... er... do you like _me?”_ she asked Jennifer tentatively. Jennifer blushed and nodded shyly. 

Daphne grinned. “Well... I suppose... maybe tonight after the start of term feast, we could... er... try snogging a bit - see if I like it...”

**~o0o~**

As the afternoon wore on clouds poured over the mountains and covered the sky; rain began to fall heavily and the wind came up. The Potters and most of their friends apprehensively took their seats at the Mingling Table when dusk turned into night, and watched the lightning flash across the dark clouds churning above in the enchanted ceiling as they waited.

Viktor kept Theo company at the Slytherin Table until Lavender arrived; he joined her at the Mingling Table when he heard Lavender squeal excitedly and spotted her giving Parvati and Hermione huge hugs. 

After saying hi to Viktor, Harry noticed that something was quite different about Dora when she arrived with Fleur. 

“What’s with the hair?” he asked with some bemusement, peering at her shoulder length ash-brown hair.

“Oh this? It’s my natural colour,” Dora muttered glumly. “It’s bloody boring innit!”

“Non, Chérie,” said Fleur. “Ees vairy beautiful...”

“You’re just sayin’ that...” Dora blushed, but smiled regardless.

“I think it’s very pretty,” said Hermione kindly. 

Taking Hermione’s lead, Harry nodded quickly. “Yeah... me too!” 

“How come you changed it back if you don’t like it then?” Ginny asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. 

“Because I’m goin’ even deeper undercover,” sighed Dora. “Dumbledore thinks it’ll be safer if nobody from the Ministry recognises me - and most of the students ‘oo don’t know me too well won’t really notice me either. He re-registered me. I’ll be a Seventh Year student now... The only good bit is that I got to pick my last name.”

Dora’s face lit up as she grinned. “I’m Dora _**Underhill**_ now!”

Hermione giggled. If Harry had been drinking, it would have sprayed out of his nose with a snort of laughter. 

“I don’t get it,” said Daphne. “What’s the joke?”

Jennifer grinned, answering before the Potters or Dora got a chance to respond. “It’s a name from a famous book series called _Lord of the Rings_. One of the main characters changes his last name to Underhill to avoid detection by the bad guys...”

“It’s one of my favourite muggle book series,” Dora added. “It’s got magic and wizards and elves...”

“And the wizard looks just like Dumbledore,” Harry chortled.

“I’ve heard of those books,” said Luna. “Daddy researched them once when I was very little for an article about muggles who write books about wizards. I’ve never read them myself though.” 

“They’re fun to read,” said Harry. “You should start with _The Hobbit_ first though...”

Harry trailed off when he heard the sound of many footsteps approaching. Drenched students from the Hogwarts Express began to crowd into the Great Hall and take seats at their tables. As usual, Hagrid arrived with the First Years and waved at Harry and Hermione before taking a seat at the Staff-table next to Horace Slughorn.

“I wonder who that is?” Luna frowned in puzzlement when she saw two grown-up wizards who had arrived with the pupils. “They don’t look very nice.”

Everyone looked to see who Luna was talking about, presuming that they were the Inquisitors mentioned in Percy Weasley’s letter to Ginny. Harry’s stomach tightened and Hermione bristled in recognition of at least one of them.

“Alecto Carrow,” Harry muttered through gritted teeth, “But who’s that with her?”

“It’s probably her brother, Amycus,” replied Hermione.

“Oh, that reminds me Hermione... I’ve been meaning to ask you since Gringotts. How’d’you know that was Alecto?”

“That first Easter Holiday we spent at Number Twelve - Sirius and Remus found a picture of them in Sirius’s parents’ room while we were cleaning,” said Hermione. “They complained bitterly about how the Carrows managed to avoid Azkaban by claiming they were imperiused. Sirius and Remus really hated them...

“Apparently they’re particularly awful sadists. I’ll never forget some of the gruesome things that Sirius said they did,” Hermione finished, quivering angrily at the thought of them now being at Hogwarts.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the Carrows and nodded. “Oh yeah... I’d forgotten all about that. Did I ever mention you have a brilliant memory?”

“Only about a million times Harry,” said Hermione. She blushed, temporarily distracted from her crossness by Harry’s compliment.

The Carrows raised their eyebrows at the sight of the Mingling Table and the students already seated there, but otherwise gave no indication that they were witnessing anything unusual. Alecto and Amycus Carrow both engaged in conversation with Dumbledore as more and more students filled the Great Hall. 

To the surprise of the Potters and their friends, the headmaster appeared to greet the Carrows quite amicably, though Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey both seemed to be giving the Carrows icy death glares. Amycus Carrow waved his wand and an enormous blank screen appeared, hovering just above and behind the staff-table in front of the windows. 

“What’s that?” gasped Neville. Most were bewildered, but Harry, Hermione, and Dora were simply astonished at the sight, knowing immediately what it was.

“Blimey!” said Dora. “That looks like a movie screen.”

“Movie screen?” asked Daphne.

“Yeah,” said Harry, and Hermione nodded in agreement. “Or a gigantic flat projection television...”

“Oh, right... like the muggle entertainment equipment you’ve told us about,” said Parvati as light dawned on her.

“But I thought you said electronics didn’t work in magical surroundings because of the magical interference,” said Jennifer.

“They don’t, generally speaking,” Hermione responded. “But there are some obscure charms for making electrical equipment work with magic though... Sirius and Remus found them in a book in the library of our home in London and used them. So some wizards must use the enchantments, it’s just that most British wizards and the Ministry have never been inclined to adopt much muggle technology...”

“...Except for trains and Ministry vehicles,” said Ginny. “Dad’s the only one I know who had a personal car though.”

“It ees ze same in France,” Fleur interjected as she rolled her eyes. “Though zey are not anti-muggle, ze French wizard parliament still think zat magic is superior to electricity.”

“I think it’s the same in most of Europe from what I’ve read,” added Hermione. “I met some American witches from the Salem Institute briefly at the Quidditch World Cup. I saw them using mobile phones and portable cd players - I asked them about it. Apparently American wizards even have wands designed especially to interact with electrical circuitry.”

“What about the wizard wireless though?” asked Parvati, her brows furrowing as she tried to make sense of the incongruity. “Isn’t that a bit like muggle electronics?”

Hermione shook her head, “Not really. Wizard radios are simply charmed units - just boxes with knobs really - more or less just designed to look and function like old fashioned muggle radios. There’s no actual circuitry involved.

“But judging by the fact that a fair few pop music artists are wizards, I suppose that they must use some of the charms to make their equipment work when they’re playing in wizard venues - like at the Yule Ball.”

“Cor, so that’s ’ow they do it,” Dora’s eyes popped and she looked excited. “I wondered about that. I’ve always wanted to get my ‘ands on a synth and an electric guitar, but I never knew ‘ow to make them work.”

“But why would the Ministry be bringing in muggle technology now?” Daphne frowned. “The current Minister seems as bad as Voldemort when it comes to being anti-muggle.”

Even Hermione didn’t have an answer for that one and she shrugged uncertainly, glancing at Harry questioningly to see if he had any ideas.

“The Minister is in league with the Muggle PM apparently - according to Moody,” Harry muttered darkly, comprehension setting in. “She seems more pragmatic than most older British Pureblood Supremacists. 

“She’s probably not afraid to work with muggles as long as they share a similar outlook - it’s mostly halfbreeds and muggleborns that she hates. I bet the Muggle PM convinced her that television and film would be jolly useful for...”

“...Propaganda!” Hermione gasped. “Of course Harry - it would be more efficient than simply relying on the _Daily Prophet_. She must mean to introduce the technology - or more likely a magical version of it - like the Wizard Wireless - to the British wizard world.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be all bad would it?” asked Jennifer, who looked a bit eager. “I... I hate to admit it, but I have missed watching the telly a bit.”

Dora’s features lit up in excitement too. Muggle entertainment had always been her favourite thing about visiting relatives on her father’s side of the family.

“It just depends on the programming really,” Harry conceded. “I can’t imagine it’ll be any good while the Minister and her cronies are running it - she’s probably going to put the Daily Prophet in charge. I suppose eventually it will be a good thing for wizards. But I can’t see the Minister and her lot using it for good reasons...”

Harry caught the eye of Ron Weasley who had just entered the Great Hall with Seamus. The pair of young wizards approached the Mingling Table and Ron briefly gave his sister Ginny a hug. Ron seemed quite disturbed about something.

“Blimey Harry!” exclaimed Ron, his face ashen, “Draco Malfoy’s back. We saw him on the train...”

“The slimy git was throwin’ his weight around,” fumed Seamus Finnigan. “...actin’ like he was best friends with the Minister. So what’s tha’ all about then?”

“And is it true... did you really kill thousands of Inferi and help kill You-Know-Who?” Ron asked. “I overheard Dad telling Mum about it after he got back from the battle.”

Harry nodded, glancing anxiously at Hermione before replying, “Yeah - we all did. But try not to spread it around...”

“Bit too late for that Harry,” said Fred Weasley, who had just appeared with George behind Ron and Seamus.

“Crabbe and Goyle,” George explained breezily. “They were on the Express too. They were going on about how their fathers were knocked out by some sort of explosion when Voldy tried to stab Harry with a knife...”

“Said that Dumbledore’s lot captured them and killed loads of Mouldy’s minions,” continued Fred. “And they were bragging about how the Minister forced the Auror Office into letting their fathers go just yesterday...”

“What?” gasped Hermione in outrage. 

Harry groaned. “Yeah... of course! Not surprised really...”

“According to the Junior Death Munchers their fathers got a deal for promising to help the investigation,” said George.

“That figures,” Harry sighed resignedly. “I knew that Head Auror Scrimgeour couldn’t hold onto them indefinitely. I suppose everyone will soon know that we fought in the battle too then...”

George nodded sympathetically. Fred smirked a bit.

“You should’ve seen Malfoy though,” Fred added, grinning. “He looked like he was going to wet himself when Crabbe and Goyle told him that some of the Snatchers who had been arrested with their fathers had mentioned that you lot had killed heaping mountains of Inferi...”

“Not to mention you lot wiping out a whole battalion of Giants and Trolls...” George chortled. “Malfoy didn’t look half as cocky after Crabbe and Goyle told him about that, and about how Harry KO’d the Noseless Wonder without lifting a finger...”

“There they are - with that smarmy little bastard Draco now,” said Seamus.

Everyone turned and peered in the direction that Seamus had indicated. Sure enough, Draco Malfoy was pompously swaggering into the Great Hall flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Draco’s smug look turned into a scowl when he spotted the Potters and their friends all looking at him.

Daphne squirmed a bit closer to Harry, and he put his arm protectively around her. Harry didn’t know what came over him. Surprising himself, Harry grinned at Draco and winked.

Ron sniggered when Malfoy’s scowl turned into a look of utter dread and the Slytherin scurried to his table. “Y’know Harry, maybe it won’t be so bad if everyone knows that you helped do You-Know-Who in again and massacred an army of his monsters.”

“Yeah, you might have something there Ron,” Harry smirked. Hermione couldn’t help letting out a little giggle. 

Jennifer eyed the platinum blond Slytherin and his mates curiously. So that was Draco Malfoy - the one who had hurt Daphne’s sister. Jennifer was a bit surprised at Draco’s cowardly manner.

Ron suddenly realised that there was a pretty new girl at the table with long ebony hair, and his mouth gaped open.

“Who are you then?” Ron asked. “Aren’t you a bit old for a Firsty?”

“Erm...” said Jennifer, not sure which question to answer first and feeling slightly uncomfortable as Ron continued to stare at her open-mouthed. Hermione gave Ron a bit of a look.

“Ron, this is Jennifer,” said Hermione, keeping her composure admirably. “Jennifer, this is Ron Weasley, Ginny’s brother. Fred and George are Ginny’s brothers too. And this is Seamus...”

“Er... Hello,” said Jennifer shyly as the Weasley boys and Seamus greeted her. She felt a bit too awkward to say any more than that. Thankfully, Hermione didn’t seem to mind carrying on for her.

“Jennifer’s a late-bloomer,” Hermione explained. “Jennifer only just discovered her magic this summer, and we’ve been helping the professors tutor her as much as possible so that she can join us in fifth year.”

“Oh... er... Wow! I didn’t know that was possible...” Ron gawked at Jennifer as if she was a three-headed cat. “Well... er... nice to meet you Jennifer...”

“Come on, we’d better get seated,” said George to his brothers and Seamus. “The Gryffindor table is almost full.”

Harry could see that Jennifer wasn’t sure what to make of Ron. “Don’t mind Ron too much,” he said, rolling his eyes. “He’s a bit thick sometimes - but he’s alright really... He doesn’t mean to be rude...”

“...Most of the time - I suppose...” Hermione muttered.

Harry glanced at the Slytherin table, pleased to see Theo, Blaise, and Pansy Parkinson congregating near the younger Slytherins who had been friends with Daphne’s sister. Even though Astoria hadn’t returned to Hogwarts, her friends still wanted nothing to do with Draco and his gang and they all kept shooting nasty glares at Malfoy. 

Meanwhile, Draco was milking the sympathy for his one-handedness for all it was worth from many of the older Slytherins.

Soon all of the students settled, but a buzz of curiosity continued to fill the Hall as they pondered the enormous screen above the Staff Table and the three new adult wizards sitting with the professors. 

Professor McGonagall arrived moments later with a tatty old hat and the Sorting of the First Years began. Jennifer watched, intrigued as the rip in the rumpled old hat opened like a mouth and it began to sing.

The Carrows both sat through the Sorting Hat’s song, their faces growing stonier and colder. The last few lines of the song were so pointed, that one could have heard a pin drop in the moment of shocked silence before the eruption of cacophony from the students. Even the professors shuffled uncomfortably in their seats and exchanged worried glances.

_...Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_  
_the warning history shows,_  
_for our Hogwarts is in danger_  
_from internal, deadly foes_

_And we must unite inside her_  
_to face the enemy from within_  
_I have told you, I have warned you..._  
_let the Sorting now begin._

“Wow! That’s different,” gasped Parvati.

“I’ll say...” muttered Harry. “I didn’t know the Sorting Hat could offer advice to the whole school.”

“Daddy once told me he thought that the Sorting Hat should be Minister,” chortled Luna.

“Hasn’t the hat ever offered warnings before, then?” Jennifer asked Hermione.

Jennifer squeaked and leapt in her seat when an ethereal form glided up next to her. She still wasn’t quite used to the idea of ghosts being real, and had kept her distance over the summer. Dumbledore had warned all of the ghosts to give her space until she became more comfortable, but Sir Nicholas’s curiosity about the new girl had finally got the better of him.

“Oh, indeed it has,” proffered the nearly headless spirit with a grin. “The Sorting Hat is honour-bound to provide the residents of Hogwarts with warnings of danger whenever the school is threatened...”

Professor McGonagall stood up and strode to the fore of the Staff Table and the murmuring died down. Jennifer followed the proceedings with great interest, but she was glad that she didn’t have to face the uncertainty and anxiety that the First Years must be feeling. Jennifer knew exactly who her friends were and where she belonged.

Once all the new pupils had been sorted into their Houses, the headmaster took Professor McGonagall’s place.

“To all new and returning students, I bid you welcome,” Dumbledore said as he spread his arms invitingly, his rich voice ringing throughout the Great Hall. “This year, I would like to introduce two new staff members - Professor Alecto Carrow and her brother, Professor Amycus Carrow - and also returning Professor, Horace Slughorn.

“Beginning this year, Hogwarts will be offering a mandatory Cultural Studies course - an examination of our British Wizarding Heritage - to be taught by Amycus Carrow...”

The sour looking wizard nodded curtly at the students to a smattering of applause from the Slytherin table. Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall clapped politely as well, but had difficulty hiding their disdain.

“...And although I had in mind another for the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, due to last minute changes, Alecto Carrow will be taking the position,” continued the headmaster.

Hermione and Harry couldn’t help noticing Professor Snape scowling at Alecto as the Slytherin table applauded again.

“And finally,” Dumbledore went on, “we are also offering a full course in Alchemy this year after being without a full-time Alchemy professor for far too long. Welcome back Professor Slughorn!”

Professor Slughorn stood up and smiled warmly through his bushy handlebar moustache, taking a little bow. To the students, the rotund professor looked much friendlier than the Carrows, and this time more students at every table clapped and cheered. After Slughorn returned to his seat, the headmaster resumed speaking.

“And before we begin our magnificent feast, may I please direct your attention to the screen above the table. To some of you, this magical technology shall appear familiar, but for many of you, this is something entirely new, a modern marvel finally being introduced to the British wizard world.

“I have been asked to inform you that smaller versions shall be available for purchase in shops in Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and your local communities, and that all wizard families are to be encouraged to make these items a part of your home life. 

“This new medium has much to offer us in terms of conveying information and entertainment - though I daresay it may take some getting used to.” The headmaster’s eyes twinkled as he paused for a moment.

“And now,” Dumbledore continued, “you shall bear witness to the historic first ever broadcast on the Wiz-Vision Network - a broadcast specially directed to all students at Hogwarts. Let me introduce someone who needs no introduction, our intrepid and delightful leader, Minister Dolores Umbridge.”

Harry snorted mirthfully, wondering how Dumbledore could manage to keep such a straight face. Hermione silently fumed. Gasps of amazement filled the Hall when the screen came to life, and an enormous toadlike face appeared.

“Is this on...?” the face said as it looked off-screen to the side. “Oh... we are? Yes, alright then.” Minister Umbridge’s gigantic visage seemed to peer directly at all of the students in the Great Hall and she cleared her throat.

“Hem, hem... Greetings Hogwarts students,” the Minister began, as her voice took on a honeyed girlish tone, “It pleases me greatly to announce a new era for Hogwarts, and the British Wizarding Community at large. The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of utmost importance.

“The rare and splendid gifts with which we are graced are nothing if not fostered and refined by cautious guidance. Our ancient magical knowledge and skills - only employable by those of sterling magical birthright - must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. Our most noble heritage and culture must be conserved and cultivated by those who find themselves drawn to the lofty vocation of educating and moulding young minds.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and snorted derisively. Harry noticed that many students were already tuning out. Even Luna’s eyes appeared to be glazing over. But a chill ran down Harry’s spine as he continued to listen.

“Many wonderful and exemplary headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts have proffered novel ideas to new generations of young witches and wizards through the ages. And that is to be expected, for progress is a vital and necessary element of growth and the enrichment of our lives and our culture.

“The magical device by which my countenance and speech appears before you is a perfect example of progress which can only enhance our experiences. However, progress for its own sake, without regard for the wisdom of our most noble and ancient heritage must be discouraged. As the ancient wisdom of our forebears informs us, a balance then must be struck between tradition and innovation.

“Some among us would have us dilute and contaminate our most noble and ancient heritage through miscegenation and ideologies foreign to our culture. Such unrighteous teachings do not lead to true progress, but to decline and decay, until the flower of our majestic privileges wither on the vine.

“Such decomposition of our identities, our customs, and our abilities cannot be allowed to continue unabated lest our culture be lost forever, to be little but a footnote in the annals of history as the savages and the unclean inherit the Earth.

“These ignoble practices have been promoted and encouraged with little regard for accountability and transparency. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and liability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.

“It is to this end then, that I implore all students to strive for the greater good of our ancient and most noble heritage, by speaking out wherever they see such unwholesome and base promulgations. 

“Should you have any concerns, I encourage you to bring them to the attention of your newest instructors, Alecto and Amycus Carrow, fine, upstanding citizens both, who represent the very best our noble society has to offer. The Carrows are sensitive to the inquiries, interests, and distresses of all students. They shall give the questions and apprehensions of every pupil due consideration. 

“And together we shall stride boldly into the future, our heads held high, as we forge a bright path into a robust tomorrow. And with that, dear students, both new and returning, I bid you all a stimulating and scintillating educational experience for the school year ahead.”

The screen flickered and went blank. All of the students were either utterly confounded or passed out. Crabbe and Goyle were completely zoned, drooling on the Slytherin table. Ron and Seamus didn’t look in much better shape.

The entire Hufflepuff table was in a hypnotic stupor; even half of the Ravenclaws had a look of blank oblivion and the other half were scratching their heads in bewilderment.

Even all of the professors looked dazed - including Dumbledore - and Hagrid had actually dozed off. And those at the Mingling Table looked as lost and dizzy as everyone else. Harry’s own head was swimming in circles. He felt as if a swarm of wrackspurts had nested in his brain. Harry gave his head a shake to clear it and shared a dark look with Hermione.

At one time or another, under other circumstances, Harry might have been as completely discombobulated as most of the other young witches and wizards in the Great Hall. But he knew the Minister’s intentions well, and his focus had improved immensely since Hermione had become his best friend.

“Bloody Hell Hermione!” Harry muttered. “That was the worst speech I’ve ever heard! What a load of waffle! I wonder if it was written that way on purpose to hide what she’s really on about...”

 _ **“Miscegenation!”**_ Hermione hissed furiously. “I can’t believe that revolting, horrid witch would be so up-front about it, especially so soon after Voldemort’s defeat.”

“We’re probably the only ones that heard that bit though Hermione,” said Harry, shaking his head incredulously. “It sounds like Percy wrote her speech for her. What a meandering, repetitive piece of tripe.

“The only good thing is that so far the Minister has absolutely no idea how to use television to effectively promote her agenda - We probably won’t be so lucky once she allows the _Daily Prophet_ to write her material, or the _Prophet_ starts putting up their own programming.”

“You’re right Harry!” Hermione nodded. “I suppose we should count ourselves fortunate that all she did was manage to put everyone to sleep.”

Dumbledore had understood the speech all too well, but the soporific effects of the Minister’s discursive rhetoric had nonetheless managed to disengage his mental faculties. Finally Dumbledore managed to shake his own head clear and his sonorous voice rang out through the Hall, waking everyone up.

“Well, that was most... illuminating. In any case, I believe that is more than enough for start of term announcements. I am sure that you are all quite famished - tuck in.”

Harry and Hermione both ate their dinner absentmindedly, barely tasting their food, still contemplating the dark implications of the Minister’s speech. When the last pieces of treacle tart and rhubarb and custard pie were demolished, and the last scoop of trifle gobbled up, the full and happy students began to stagger to their feet. 

Lavender jumped up, looking flustered and startling Viktor.

“Neville, we’re supposed to show the First Years where to go!” she shouted over the hubbub. “Sorry Viktor. I’ll see you later.” 

“Oh... er... yeah. I forgot...” Neville gulped.

“Forgot what? What’s Lavender on about?” asked Harry in bewilderment.

“Erm... we’re Gryffindor prefects this year,” Neville replied, looking pasty, like he might be sick. “I only just found out from Dumbledore this afternoon... forgot to tell you Harry.” Neville turned towards his girlfriend. “Sorry Hannah... gotta go!”

“That’s alright Neville,” Hannah beamed. “I’m proud of you. Don’t look so worried - you’ll do fine. Now go!”

“Wow! That’s something,” Harry said to Hermione, grinning. “Good for Neville. He’ll be a great prefect.”

“So will Lavender,” said Hermione, smiling radiantly. “That’s brilliant! I couldn’t be happier for them both.”

“Well, I’d better be off too,” said Parvati. “I am still a Gryffindor after all. See you guys later then.”

Ginny gave Luna a hug and followed after Parvati while Luna made her way through the hall to the crowd of Ravenclaws.

“Alright, come on you lot,” said Dora to those still remaining at the Mingling Table. “We’ve got our own ‘House’ to go to,” she added with a wink.

**~o0o~**

Hermione sighed happily, feeling the tension drain away as Harry’s fingers kneaded the tense muscles in her neck, shoulders and upper back. Despite the more sedating and less than terrifying performance of the Minister during her first dubious attempt at influencing the public through a visual medium, the Potters were both still agitated, and Harry had thought that Hermione could use a nice massage.

Hermione was thinking of nice ways to release Harry’s tension, but she couldn’t help the intrusion of some less than pleasant thoughts.

“He’s going to try something sooner or later Harry,” murmured Hermione.

“Who... Draco?” Harry dug his knuckle into a particularly tight knot on Hermione’s shoulder blade and she let out a small moan.

“Ooh... that feels good! Yes, Malfoy - he’s planning to stir the pot. I’m sure of it,” said Hermione.

“Of course he is,” snorted Harry. “He may be a bloody coward - he never picks a fight without his gormless gorillas to protect him - but Malfoy always has some sort of dirty trick up his sleeve. And no doubt he wants revenge...” 

“...And I expect he’s probably been ordered to try and provoke us by the Minister,” Hermione added. “Oooh, that’s the spot Harry...” She quivered again as elation flooded her senses.

“Well, you know I can handle a few insults Hermione... So no worries on that score...” 

“But sooner or later, he’s going to try and hurt someone again,” said Hermione, “and we’ll have to stop him one way or the other.”

Harry sighed. “Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. We’ll probably have to do a bunk at that point... But hopefully Malfoy’ll be too reticent to try anything straight off, and we’ll have time to prepare.”

“I agree! Mmm... thanks Harry - that felt nice.” Hermione turned over and beamed at Harry, drawing him in for a kiss. “It’s your turn now,” she murmured, a golden gleam in her eyes.

**~o0o~**

Daphne lay in bed, sighing dreamily as she cuddled Jennifer. She had enjoyed kissing Jennifer far more than she had thought she would - it had been much nicer than any kisses she’d had with boys. Not that she had really had enough nice kisses from boys for a proper comparison Daphne supposed.

The only boy Daphne had tried kissing had been handsome, but she had been in third year and he in sixth year, and he had wanted much more than she was ready to give. Daphne wanted the romance and it had become obvious that he only wanted to get into her knickers and move on. The other boy had wanted to kiss Daphne and she’d let him, but it had been very uncomfortable and awkward. 

Daphne had imagined how it might feel to kiss Harry Potter, and just the idea of it made her feel all warm and tingly inside - the way kissing Jennifer had felt.

**~o0o~**

The first full day of term after the weekend began much like any other, and the Potters were pleased that Draco indeed appeared to be avoiding them for the time being. The biggest difference at breakfast time was a three minute scene playing out on the screen above the staff table.

Images of happy young witches and wizards running through fields of flowers - then prostrating themselves obediently before Ministry officials - flashed across the giant display. At the conclusion of the sequence, bold text in a rather florid font appeared.

**Educational Decree #23:  
The appointment of Alecto and Amycus Carrow to the posts of Hogwarts High Inquisitors shall be acknowledged with the highest respect and obeisance by all Hogwarts Staff and Students.**

This wasn’t news to the Potters and their friends, nor apparently to Draco Malfoy who appeared to be boasting about his foreknowledge to the Slytherins. But the rest of the student body buzzed with curiosity and bewilderment; nobody seemed to know what the “Inquisitor” business was all about.

However, the curiosity didn’t last very long. Everyone was far more interested in the rapidly spreading news that Harry Potter had once again been instrumental in the death of Voldemort, not to mention wiping out legions of monsters. But Harry was more prepared for being the centre of attention than he had ever been before, and he ignored all of the stares and open chatter.

Among those joining the Potters and their friends at the Mingling Table at breakfast were Dean Thomas and Susan Bones. Padma visited her sister Parvati at the Mingling Table to say hello before returning to her own table. All in all, breakfast seemed to be going rather well, a hopeful indication of a smoothly running first proper day of school.

But the illusion of normalcy was shattered when Harry and Hermione both caught Ginny shooting a malevolent glare at Cormac McLaggen - who bore a smug leering expression on his countenance as he ogled Ginny and Luna. Harry caught McLaggen’s eye and gave the Sixth Year Gryffindor an icy stare. Cormac smirked and looked away, returning to his conversation with Kenneth Towler.

“McLaggen looks a bit too happy to me Hermione,” Harry growled under his breath. “And I don’t like the way he’s still eyeing Ginny and Luna.”

“Nor do I Harry,” murmured Hermione, her nostrils flaring angrily. “I don’t know why, but I’m getting the distinct impression that he thinks he can get away with anything this year.”

At the conclusion of breakfast Harry waved the others on to their classes.

“You lot go on ahead to Potions,” said Harry to their fifth year friends, “Hermione and I will be right behind you.”

The others headed towards the dungeons as Harry and Hermione waited near the entrance to the Great Hall until Cormac McLaggen appeared with Kenneth Towler at his side.

“Oi... McLaggen...”

“What do you want Potty?” McLaggen sneered. Towler gulped and slowly put some distance between himself and McLaggen.

“I want you to stay away from my friends,” Harry replied in a measured tone. “And that includes Ginny and Luna...”

“I’m not afraid of you Potty,” the older and much larger Gryffindor retorted, smirking again. “In case you haven’t noticed, things have changed a bit around here this year. Looks like Dumbles is on his way out...” 

McLaggen puffed up his chest, jutted his chin, and stepped into Harry’s ‘personal space,’ towering over him. Hermione began to bristle and she glared at McLaggen, but Harry stood his ground and smiled dangerously at Cormac.

“You’re not very quick on the uptake - are you McLaggen!?” Harry chuckled mirthlessly. “After what I did to Voldy and half of his army this summer, d’you really think I give a damn if your daddy is a personal acquaintance of the Minister?”

Hermione was so stunned at Harry’s blatant assertion that for a moment she forgot she was cross with Cormac McLaggen. There was no way that Harry could know; it had to be a bluff. But she noted with almost as much satisfaction as Harry that the accusation seemed to take some of the wind out of McLaggen’s sails. Cormac unconsciously stepped back.

“So what if he is then?” snarled McLaggen. “This is between you and me, Potter! I don’t need my father or the Minister to fight my battles - I’m not Malfoy.”

“No - you’re right... Like I said last time, you’re even stupider than he is!” Harry said coolly, pressing his advantage. “I’m only warning you this once, because I’m betting that the Carrows are more concerned about protecting a Slytherin like Malfoy than they are about protecting you! Stay... Away... From my friends!

“...Unless you want to end up with one less hand to wipe your arse with, like Malfoy... or end up worse, like Mouldy-shorts!” Harry concluded. He felt a twinge of guilt at more or less threatening McLaggen’s life - especially when he saw the look on Hermione’s face - but he hoped the bluff would be enough to make McLaggen think twice before trying anything.

“Hmmmph...” McLaggen snorted, paling slightly, wondering if Potter would really dare. He stared at Harry a moment longer, narrowing his eyes, then turned on his heel and stalked away with Towler, who kept glancing back nervously at Harry.

“If you want, we can slip some Bulbadox Powder into their pyjamas...” 

Harry and Hermione both spun around quickly to see who had spoken, startled to see Fred and George grinning and standing behind them.

“Well, that’s how I got Towler in our fifth year... came up in boils all over,” said Fred with a wistful look. “He’s in our dorm, so it was easy...”

“We’d have to sneak into McLaggen’s dorm to get him though,” said George. “But that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

“But you two could get into serious trouble for that,” said Hermione worriedly. “Not that they don’t deserve a few boils. Well... McLaggen especially.”

“We’re not too fussed about trouble to be honest,” Fred retorted. “George and I were debating whether or not to bother with seventh year anyway.”

Hermione looked appalled at the idea of Fred and George skipping out on their last year of school. “But what about your NEWT’s?” she squeaked.

“George and I are planning on opening a joke shop,” Fred answered unconcernedly. “We don’t really need NEWT’s for that.”

“Well, thanks for the offer,” Harry chortled, cheerfully imagining McLaggen being sent to the hospital wing covered in boils. “But I think I’ve got things handled - no need for you to make a run for it just yet.”

“We’ve got a bit of market research to do for our joke shop anyway,” said George. “So it’s probably best if we try to stick it out for a bit.”

“Think about it Harry,” Fred added. “If you need anyone to cause a bit of mayhem, we’re your men.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Harry grinned. “Anyway... We’d better be off - Potions...” 

Waving goodbye to Fred and George, Harry and Hermione made a mad dash to the dungeons. Professor Snape raised an eyebrow when he spied the latecomers. 

“Er... sorry we’re late sir...” said Harry as he looked straight into Snape’s glittering dark eyes. “It won’t happen again.”

Snape peered inscrutably at Harry for a moment, then he nodded. “Be certain that it doesn’t Potter.”

Everyone else was already paired off and starting work on their potions. Jennifer glanced nervously at Harry and Hermione from the table she was working at with Daphne. The Potters peered questioningly at Snape, not certain what they were to work on as they had already learned the Draught of Peace at the beginning of the summer, and were well into Snape’s sixth year Potions book by now.

Snape strode over to the Potters’ table and handed them a vial. 

“You are both familiar with Golpalott’s Laws of course...” Seeing no disagreement, Snape continued. “Today you will be working with the Third Law. This vial contains a poison... I expect you both to have the antidote on my desk by the end of class.”

Draco Malfoy glanced at the Potters, wondering why they had a different assignment. Fuming, he turned back to his own potion which appeared to be turning into sludge. Draco had two partners to make up for having only one hand, but even two partners weren’t much use when they were Crabbe and Goyle. 

“You idiot,” Malfoy snapped at Crabbe. “You’re not supposed to add the powdered Moonstone yet...” When he was sure that Professor Snape wasn’t looking, Malfoy glared at the back of Snape’s head and allowed himself a few murderous thoughts.

After Harry and Hermione turned in their antidote to Snape at the end of class, it was off to History of Magic. When it came time for Arithmancy, the Potters parted company with their fellow fifth years. They didn’t meet up again until it was time for the first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson of the new term.

“Bloody hell!” Ron grumbled when he and Seamus joined the throng heading for class. “All this OWL stuff is rubbish! Look at all the loads of homework we’ve got already. That Carrow woman better not give us any.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and struggled valiantly to not say anything

“Buck up Ron,” said Harry, grinning. “You could have Arithmancy homework like me. Divination should be a piece of cake compared to that.”

“But I’m trying out for the quidditch team this year,” Ron moaned.“I’m not going to have time for homework and practice. When am I going to get time to relax?”

At that, Hermione just couldn’t help herself. “Well you’ll just have to try and work a bit harder then, won’t you!” 

It was with no small amount of apprehension that the Potters took their seats in Defence Against the Dark Arts among the other students. Jennifer slouched down behind Harry, hoping she wouldn’t be noticed, and eyed the new “professor” nervously when Alecto Carrow entered the classroom and took her place behind the teacher’s desk.

Harry felt more than a bit odd being this close to Alecto Carrow. The last time he had been this near, the icy witch had been all over him in an uncomfortably warm and affectionate manner. Of course, Alecto Carrow had believed she was fawning over her long-lost lover, Bellatrix Lestrange, at the time.

Professor Carrow’s demeanor was hard and frosty as she cast her icy gaze across the students seated before her. 

“Wands away and quills out!” she snapped without greeting or introduction. Gloomily the students all returned their wands to their pockets or bags. “Wands away,” nearly always meant a thoroughly boring lesson.

“The Ministry has determined that your teaching in this subject has been quite substandard, and certainly not meeting any Ministry approved guidelines,” Professor Carrow asserted, her voice cutting like a blade sharpened to a razor’s edge. “As such, in order to achieve OWL standard competency, this class will focus on fundamentals in a thoroughly structured, theory-centric manner...” 

With a snap of Professor Carrow’s wand, three bullet pointed sentences appeared on the blackboard under the heading, Course Aims.

\- Understanding the theoretical principles underlying defensive magic.  
\- Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic may be legally employed.  
\- Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

“Right then... I presume that you all have copies of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard!” Without waiting for a response Professor Carrow barreled on, narrowing her eyes at the students. “Well let’s get to it then shall we? Turn to page five and begin reading.”

A low murmur of grumbling under breaths hovered just under the sound of flicking pages as the students started to read. Hermione glanced again at the blackboard and bit her lip in an effort to prevent herself from saying anything that she or Harry might come to regret. She noted with satisfaction that Harry was also heroically restraining himself. Unfortunately others couldn’t quite manage it.

“Er... professor, isn’t there going to be anything about _using_ defensive spells?” asked Parvati. Hermione winced.

Her lips thinning, Professor Carrow tapped her long wand against the palm of her hand much like a nun in a Catholic school preparing her ruler for a sharp rap on someone’s knuckles.

“I normally don’t allow talking during class,” she said poisonously. “But if anyone has any questions, now is the time to get them out of the way! They will not be tolerated in the future. As to _using_ defensive spells, I should remind you to read the blackboard and remember that this is a Magical _**Theory**_ course. If that is not clear enough, then perhaps you do not belong in this class!”

“You mean we’re really not going to use magic at _**all?”**_ Ron blurted out loudly in disbelief.

Harry kicked the back of Ron’s chair and hissed, “Shut-up!” under his breath. Fortunately Ron caught on and quieted, swallowing anxiously.

“Any more questions?” asked Professor Carrow, glancing around the classroom and seeing only terrified faces. “No? ... Good! Now start reading, and not another word out of any of you.”

As the “lesson” dragged on, Alecto Carrow studied the Potters and their little friends with curiosity - especially the girl with long black hair behind Harry Potter who almost looked like she could be his sister. When all went to plan, hopefully sooner rather than later, Alecto and her brother Amycus would have the lot of them in chains and they could be done with this little farce.

But Alecto reminded herself that patience was a virtue. All of the pieces were falling into place. Hogwarts would be theirs completely soon enough. And when it was, the corridors of Hogwarts would echo with the delicious screams of the mudbloods, and the delectable shrieks of any others who might dare come to their aid.

Everyone heaved deep sighs of relief as they fled the classroom when the bell sounded, glad to be shot of the class for the day. Harry peered at the class schedule to see when they would have to deal with the other Carrow, Amycus. He had a bad feeling that Amycus Carrow’s lesson would be even more odious.

“Thank Goodness!” Jennifer muttered as she scanned her own copy of the schedule, “Mr Carrow’s class is on Friday, and it’s only once a week.” Jennifer had been thoroughly creeped out by the way Alecto Carrow had looked at her and she stayed as close to Harry and Hermione as she could the rest of the day.

After dinner the Potters and most of their friends gathered in the Unaffiliated common room, which Lavender was seeing for the first time. Of course Luna and Ginny were there, curled up on a settee by the fireplace. Daphne was seated on a cozy armchair close to Jennifer’s, and Dora and Fleur lounged on one of the sofas. Viktor and Lavender reclined on another sofa near the chairs occupied by Parvati and Neville. 

Harry waited for the chattering and conversation to die down before catching everyone’s attention. Then he glanced at Hermione who smiled at him and nodded encouragingly.

“Right then... er... well...” Harry began, sounding slightly hoarse. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and spoke with an air of authority which he still wasn’t entirely sure that he deserved. “Okay... I suppose today - our first full day of school - could have been a lot worse, and it’s clear we’ll have to stay on our toes.

“The Minister obviously doesn’t want to teach students how to defend themselves from dark magic - probably to make everyone easier to control... So we’ll keep practicing and learning how to fight by ourselves in the Room of Requirement - And I know we’ve discussed having others join us, but Hermione and I’ve been thinking, and... er... and we decided that maybe we should only invite people we can completely trust.

“I’m not sure that I want too many people knowing that we’re all training together, or where we’re training for the time-being. The less who know everything, the better. So here’s the short-list... Susan Bones, Neville’s girlfriend Hannah, Parvati’s sister Padma, and Fred and George Weasley.

“I think loads more people should learn how to fight too,” Harry continued, “But I think it would be better if the people who train with us pass it on to the others themselves in small groups. Fred and George can work with Ron and Seamus and the Gryffindor quidditch team for example. 

“Cedric already knows most of this stuff from the Triwiz, and I know he taught Cho a bit. He and Susan and Hannah can pass it on to Hufflepuffs and help Cho and Padma pass it on to Ravenclaws they trust... Basically, I don’t want to let in any dolts or thickheads who might let something slip inadvertently about us and the Room of Requirement...”

“He means Ron!” Ginny conspiratorially stage-whispered to Jennifer, drawing giggles from around the room. 

“Oi... I didn’t necessarily mean Ron.” Harry reddened. “I... er... I meant anyone who we don’t know very well. The only reason I didn’t include Ron is because then I would’ve had to invite Seamus and Dean, and then everyone on the quidditch team would want to know why they weren’t invited...”

“It would have just been too many,” said Hermione, coming to Harry’s rescue. “It’s safer for them and safer for us if not everyone knows everything, and if we work in smaller units - especially if someone who might give us away to the Inquisitors joined one of the groups... Harry knows that Ron would never intentionally do something like that - but others might if they were scared. 

“As long as everyone stays in small autonomous groups and don’t all meet up all at once in the same time and place, most of us should still be able to stay under the radar. There are plenty of unused classrooms and I’ve found some good stealth charms that people can use to help keep their own locations hidden while they’re training.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and smiled gratefully at Hermione.

“Anyway,” Harry started again, “at some point, things will probably come to a head - very likely with Draco Malfoy, and maybe with Cormac McLaggen - which will cause trouble for us with the Inquisitors, and we’ll have to leave Hogwarts... 

“Hermione and I are working on an escape route for us and any of you who join us just in case the Floo system is being monitored. But until then, I want to give as many people as possible who are staying at Hogwarts a fighting chance - and they’ll be able to continue after we’re gone.”

“That’s Genius!” said Ginny, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Well, Hermione’s the genius who originally suggested it back during the Triwiz after all,” Harry grinned.

“I only suggested that eventually when Voldemort was out in the open that everyone in school should learn how to fight,” said Hermione as she turned pink.

“Yeah... but you’re also the one who pointed out that with the Ministry here, there’s no way Dumbledore could pull that off himself now,” Harry retorted.

“And _you’re_ the one who worked out all the details of the safest way for us to do it without everyone getting caught. You really are brilliant Harry... and don’t you forget it!”

“I think we can all agree that you’re _both_ brilliant!” Dora chuckled. “That’s an absolutely smashing idea! ... And that’s actually the way a lotta secret organisations operate - in small groups so if one goes down, the others can keep on goin’ without gettin’ caught... It just goes to show what I said before Harry - you have all the right instincts for leadership.”

“Maybe we should have a name, like the Order of the Phoenix does,” Luna eagerly suggested. 

“Oh... I know... How about the Potter Brigade?” Lavender proffered.

“This isn’t about me...” Harry moaned, palming his face.

“Maybe we can call it The Ministry of Magic are Morons Club!” Ginny giggled.

“The Justice League?” said Parvati.

“Already been done!” Dora laughed.

“Er... are... erm... do you really think we need a name?” asked Neville, looking a bit worried. “I mean... er... if we’re trying to avoid the Inquisitors finding out, maybe it’s better if we don’t make it official... it won’t be like it’s a real group then.”

Hermione bit her lip and thought for a moment. “You know, that’s a very good point Neville. What do you think Harry?”

“Yeah... Yeah, that makes sense to me!” Harry agreed, nodding. “Right! Sounds like we’re good then. Hermione and I will make the arrangements and we’ll get this thing started by the end of the week...”


	53. Moving Pictures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A more explicit version of this chapter is now available in _Moments in Love: The Steamy Version._

When the Potters arrived at the Mingling Table for breakfast, they found an annoyed Lavender dressing down an abashed looking Neville. Lavender had a very Hermione-ish expression on her face, of the sort that Hermione wore when telling someone off for doing something which they might possibly regret doing later. Harry recalled being on the receiving end of some of those looks in first year - especially before the Troll Incident - and he didn’t envy Neville.

“...Honestly Neville, we’re both prefects,” Lavender was saying crossly. “You should have supported me...”

“I’m sorry Lavender... I know I should have said something. It’s just - Fred and George - they’re our friends...” Neville moaned.

“Neville, you have to be able to stand up to people, even if they are your friends... What they’re doing could be dangerous - even if they don’t mean it to be. You wouldn’t want them to get in trouble for accidentally hurting someone do you?”

“No,” said Neville in a small voice, looking very much like he wanted to crawl under a rock and hide.

“What’s going on?” asked Hermione. Harry thought he had a very good idea of what the Twins might be up to.

“Fred and George,” Lavender answered with a scowl. “They’re trying to rope students into being test subjects for some of the skiving-off sweets they’re making. The sweets supposedly make you temporarily sick enough to ditch class...”

Harry smirked as Hermione bit her lip and thought for a moment; he was fairly certain that Fred and George would be very soon forced to alter their plans.

“That does sound a bit unsafe,” Hermione agreed. “I suppose if Fred and George want to test them on themselves they’re entitled to, and I’d say the best way to stop them from using other students as guinea pigs is to tell them you’ll inform their mother... I doubt either of them would want to receive a Howler from Mrs Weasley.” 

“I think you’re on your own on this one Lavender, but I know you’re up to the task,” said Harry, grinning. He raised his eyebrows at Neville. “And I’m sure Neville will have your back from now on... right Neville?”

“Er... yeah! Of course! ... I promise!” said Neville, peering pleadingly at Lavender. 

“Oh alright!” Lavender huffed. “I’ll deal with the Weasleys myself then. But I’ll hold you to that promise Neville.”

Neville breathed a sigh of relief and shot Harry a grateful look as the others began to arrive for breakfast. Fred and George took one look at Lavender, deciding that perhaps it might be best to eat at the Gryffindor table. Harry was just digging into his scrambled eggs and bacon when the Wiz-vision screen flickered to life.

The Ministry flag rippled in the wind above a country manor as a rousing march played. A large gathering of witches and wizards saluted Minister Umbridge as she rode a carriage pulled by a number of miserable looking house-elves.

A single row of wizards and witches of regal bearing stood at attention in front of the crowd. Harry presumed that they were the most prominent heads of the Pureblood Houses as one of them looked like Lucius Malfoy.

Senior Undersecretary Percy Weasley bowed to the Minister, then introduced her to the acquiescent throngs, extolling the virtues of loyalty to the Ministry, and of an orderly society in which everyone knew their proper place.

At the end of the sequence the Wiz-Vision displayed a new message for Hogwarts staff and students:

  
**Educational Decree #24:**

_Henceforth, all Student Organisations, Societies, Clubs, Teams, or Groups are hereby disbanded. An Organisation, Society, Club, Team, or Group is defined as a regular meeting of three or more students._

_Permission to re-form may be granted only with the express approval of the Inquisitors. Any student in contravention of Educational Decree #24 will be expelled forthwith._  


The Great Hall erupted with sounds of shock and fury. **“That’s rubbish!”** could be heard over the din, coming from the direction of the Gryffindor table. Harry and Hermione looked to see Fred bellowing angrily. Indeed, the loudest sounds of outrage appeared to be emanating from all of the members of quidditch teams throughout the Hall.

Only one table appeared to be immune to the wave of indignation sweeping through the Great Hall. Malfoy and known members of the Slytherin quidditch team sat grinning and looking insufferably smug. The Potters and their friends glanced at each other, their faces ashen.

“Bloody hell!” gasped Harry. “Hermione, you don’t suppose we had something t’do with this, do you?”

“I really don’t see how we could have, Harry,” Hermione replied, looking a bit shaken. “There’s no way anybody else could have found out yet - it has to be a coincidence. It must be an intimidation tactic...”

“Professor Dumbledore will be able to do something about it, won’t he?” asked Ginny, looking very worried. “I’m trying out for the quidditch team this year too.”

“Well, it looks like Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall are working on it already,” said Luna, pointing towards the staff-table. 

Sure enough, the headmaster and headmistress appeared to be deep in animated conversation with the Carrows. Several minutes later Dumbledore stood up to address the students and the Great Hall fell into silence. Everyone awaited his pronouncement with bated breath. Dumbledore’s rich voice rang through the Hall.

“Please calm yourselves,” said the headmaster. “After some discussion with the Professors Carrow, the quidditch teams have all been reinstated...”

At this, the smug looks of the Slytherins evaporated and turned to glares, most of them directed at the Gryffindor table, and great sighs of relief could be heard from everyone else. 

“However,” Dumbledore went on, “all other clubs must petition to be reinstated. And as headmaster I shall be reviewing the petitions subject to final approval by the Inquisitors. Now, by all means, please continue with breakfast.” 

While most pupils returned their attention to their plates, somewhat mollified, many at the Mingling Table moodily picked at what remained of their breakfasts. 

“It’s a good thing you came up with the plan to work in small groups who don’t know everything, Harry,” Dora muttered, “or we’d probably be finished before we’d even got started. It’ll be ‘ard enough as it is just for us all to meet up now without lookin’ suspicious.” 

Harry nodded, sighing heavily. He and Hermione were both distracted much of the day, but all things considered, things went relatively smoothly. Malfoy and McLaggen both seemed to be keeping their distance, though Draco could be heard loudly boasting about his father’s “special relationship” with the Minister at every opportunity to anyone who would listen.

“Bloody git,” Ron muttered as he and Seamus made their way to Care of Magical Creatures with the Potters and their other fifth year friends. “The way Malfoy goes on about the Minister, anyone would think that she’s his new mum.”

“She might be more or less,” Hermione responded quietly. “The Minister has obviously been harbouring the Malfoys personally since Narcissa Black left Mr Malfoy, and since she sneakily got Draco out of Azkaban. And that was months ago. For all we know, Minister Umbridge and Mr Malfoy have developed an intimate relationship.”

“Urgh... You can’t be serious,” said Harry. “She’s hideous...”

Daphne wrinkled her nose in distaste and made a retching sound. “I can’t imagine Mr Malfoy even being attracted to her - she looks like a toad. What would someone as high and mighty as him even see in her?”

“Well, looks aren’t everything,” said Parvati. “People can be attracted to each other for different reasons. But I admit the Minister is as revolting on the inside as she appears to be on the outside.”

“You’re right Parvati,” Hermione nodded. “I don’t think looks really come into it. I expect it’s more a matter of convenience for Mr Malfoy. The Minister has what he wants - political access to the Ministry. He’ll probably do anything to keep her happy to stay close to Power. He’s probably just using her...”

“And she’s using him too,” Harry interjected. “She’s manipulating Lucius Malfoy just as much as he is her. It’s obviously a mutually beneficial relationship. I just hope the Order has Madam Black well protected,” Harry concluded darkly as they entered the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest near Hagrid's hut.

Jennifer - who had opted to take Care of Magical Creatures with the others - remained silent as she followed the conversation; she had never met Lucius Malfoy, but he sounded as horrid as his son or any of the other followers of Voldemort that she’d come across. But the topic was soon forgotten when Hagrid introduced the class to creatures that were invisible to most of the students except for Harry and Hermione, and those who had been with them at the battle for Hogwarts.

Parvati gasped in surprise. Daphne and Jennifer shrank back from the eerie black skeletal horse-like creatures with bat-wings. Neville gulped, thinking the creatures looked rather ominous and forbidding. Hermione peered at them in fascination, and a strange feeling came over Harry which he couldn’t really describe.

“Thestrals!” said Hermione. “I didn’t know we had them here at Hogwarts...”

“Right yeh are Hermione,” beamed Hagrid. “Very misunderstood creatures they are... They pull the carriages that bring you lot up ter the castle from the Hogwarts Express.”

“Oh...” said Harry, as recognition set in, “I remember them from _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. But why haven’t I seen them before then? And why are we the only ones that can?” he asked.

“Because we’ve seen Death, Harry,” Hermione responded sadly. “And lots of it... Though I’m not sure why you haven’t see them before. You were there when your mother was killed...”

Harry swallowed, blinking back sudden tears. “Maybe... maybe it was because I never really understood what I was seeing at the time - I was too little. I... I really only saw it properly... only when Snape helped me... er...”

Hermione nodded and took Harry’s hand. “I know Harry,” she said gently. “You don’t have to say it.”

Harry took a deep breath to steady himself and mustered a smile. He reached out a hand to a small Thestral which appeared to be a foal and it let him stroke its snout. Its shiny black coat was surprisingly soft and velvety. 

Harry still didn’t know what to call that feeling the Thestrals aroused within him, but if he had to describe the feeling he might have said it was bittersweet, a sort of yearning for something beautiful that he’d lost but was yet still a part of him, something tantalisingly just out of reach, yet within his grasp. 

It felt like a beloved memory too painful to let go of, and too painful to hold onto. It felt like seeing a picture of his mother for the first time, or like seeing his parents in the Mirror of Erised. 

“Thestrals...” Harry murmured as a tear broke free and rolled down one cheek, “they’re not so bad really...”

“Quite righ’ Harry...” Hagrid cheerfully agreed as he chucked large slabs of raw meat at the Thestrals. 

“Very gentle creatures Thestrals are!” he continued as the creatures began ravenously tearing the chunks of bloody meat to shreds with their razor sharp fangs. 

After classes let out for the day, Hermione could see that Harry still had a brooding look about him. She waved off their friends, knowing that Harry just wanted to be alone. They both retired to their quarters for the evening, not even returning to the Great Hall for dinner. 

Harry lay on the bed, settling in Hermione’s warm embrace as she stroked his messy black hair and kissed him tenderly. Crookshanks purred as he looked down from the top of the wardrobe, his bushy tail curled around Hedwig...

**~o0o~**

Friday eventually rolled around, and with it came the apprehension of knowing that Amycus Carrow’s class was looming. Harry was distracted from his rumination by the morning’s Wiz-Vision broadcast. This one was quite a bit lengthier than the previous ones, being the first ever wizard daily news programme.

A rousing musical introduction was followed by an impeccably groomed wizard discussing the _Daily Prophet’s_ top stories with a brassy looking witch who appeared to be doing a remarkably good impression of an older Rita Skeeter with pointier features, far too much make-up, and redder hair.

“That reminds me,” Harry whispered to Hermione as the announcers launched into the first topic of the day, “I wonder where Rita Skeeter’s going to hide now. I haven’t seen her since the battle with Voldemort...”

“That’s a good question Harry,” Hermione replied quietly. She shook her bushy head in disbelief, “I still can’t get over her joining the Order. She’s in as much trouble as the rest of us might be if the Minister catches her...”

Sitting next to Hermione, Luna couldn’t help overhearing.

“She’s working with Daddy now,” Luna murmured with a grin. “I found out after I spoke to Daddy the other day... He told me that they’re working on a way to break into the Wiz-Vision broadcast so that they can do their own pirate broadcasts eventually. The Order bought a Wiz-Vision screen for them to experiment on. It might take a while before they work it out though.”

“That’s brilliant!” Harry whispered excitedly. “That reminds me...” 

“Harry!” Hermione hissed, tugging on his sleeve. Harry turned back to look at the giant screen to see what had caught her attention.

“....Muggleborn Wizard Dick Turpentine was arrested by Aurors today on suspicion of stealing wands,” the fabulously coiffed wizard announcer was saying. “The investigation has been ordered to be turned over to the Unspeakable Office in the Department of Mysteries by the Minister - as the stolen wands were allegedly being distributed to muggles for their own use in an apparent scheme to challenge the authority of the Ministry.”

“Surely not, William!” gasped the brassy witch co-anchor in clearly feigned surprise. “How could a muggle possibly make use of a wand?”

“Ah, Endora... well, that is the million galleon question,” William the wizard news-anchor replied. “And that is why Dick Turpentine has been turned over to the Department of Mysteries for investigation.”

“Well, Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour certainly can’t be happy about that...” Endora the witch co-anchor responded. “Could this possibly explain some of the recent statistics showing an uptick in the apparent birth of muggleborn wizards?”

“Indeed, perhaps this is even related to the recent events at Hogwarts and the second death of He-who-must-not-be-named,” William replied. “Who can be certain until the investigation is completed? But surely it is an open question given the muggleborn promoting proclivities of the headmaster...

“This could possibly even call into question the very notion of wizards ever actually being sired by muggles. Could this be the culmination of a centuries long conspiracy to breach the Statute of Secrecy by stealing wands and teaching muggles how to use them? If so, then every so-called muggleborn is plausibly suspect.”

Audible gasps of shock filled the Great Hall. Harry’s nostrils flared angrily; he glanced at Hermione who was livid. Dora’s expression was nothing short of murderous and Jennifer swallowed anxiously. Appalled glances were shared around the Mingling Table by those who were aware of the circumstances surrounding Jennifer’s recent “discovery” of her magical abilities.

“Well, William - that is certainly food for thought,” Endora said unctuously. “And with that, we conclude the very first broadcast of WVN’s Morning News Headlines in conjunction with the _Daily Prophet_. This has been Endora Le Fay...”

“...And William O’Hannity! Bringing Fair and Balanced news to you daily, because we’re looking out for you!” the wizard news anchor concluded bombastically.

After the half hour news programme had finished, the screen displayed once again Educational Decrees twenty three and twenty four. Except for a few chortles from the Slytherin table, the Great Hall was silent.

All eyes turned to the Carrows whose countenances bore thin cruel smiles. Even the headmaster turned to face them with the coldest expression Harry had ever seen on Dumbledore’s visage... at least the coldest he had seen since the day that Draco Malfoy had been arrested for the kidnapping and sexual assault of Daphne’s sister Astoria.

Gradually a murmur filled the hall as the students resumed eating their breakfasts and discussed the chilling turn of events. Many more students glanced fearfully at the Carrows that morning.

Classes were subdued that day, and most of the Professors were all on edge, but they did their best to reassure the students that the speculations of the newscasters were entirely baseless and without merit.

History of Magic was the biggest surprise since breakfast though. Professor Binns made not a single mention of Goblin Uprisings or Giant Wars. Instead, his entire lesson was devoted to a lecture on the history of the accomplishments and valiant deeds of muggleborn wizards.

Harry and Hermione were even more determined than ever to focus intently on their subjects. After they both performed the Vanishing Charm flawlessly within the first twenty minutes of practice, Professor Flitwick took them aside while the rest of the class struggled - though Parvati and Jennifer both appeared to be doing quite well.

“My word, Mr and Mrs Potter!” Professor Flitwick led the Potters from their desks to a corner of the room away from the other students, speaking quietly so as not to be overheard, “It would appear that your skills may outstrip the current year’s syllabus. And I must say, I was quite impressed that you both managed to hold your own during the battle against Voldemort.

“Why don’t you give me an idea of the charms you already know so that I can teach you something more appropriate to your skill levels? Don’t bother with listing the charms you have learned in my classes the last four years - I already know that you are both highly proficient in those, and while they are revised for each year’s level, I don’t doubt that you could both perform them at OWL level were I to test you at this very moment.”

“Well... we both studied all the coursework for this year over the summer,” said Hermione as she took a deep breath before she launched into a full speed recitation. “And as you said, the fifth year spells are nearly all revisions of charms from earlier years except for the Vanishing Charm and some of the combat spells being introduced this year... But Harry and I already know those because we practiced them with Professor Moody during the Triwizard Tournament...”

“Ah, yes, of course!” Flitwick interjected with a nod, “I recall Dumbledore mentioning as much, and Mr Potter’s successful completion of the second and third tasks was certainly an indication of his advancements. Alright then... can I presume that you are both well acquainted with stunning and shielding...”

“...and Bombarda and Incendio...” said Hermione.

“...and the Reductor Curse and Aguamenti...” Harry continued.

“...and of course we practiced the advanced versions of those spells - Bombarda Maxima, Protego Maxima, and Protego Totalum over the summer...” Hermione added. “Not to mention that we can both perform Corporeal Patronuses... Professor Lupin taught us in third year...”

“Good Lord! You can both produce _**Corporeal**_ Patronuses?” Professor Flitwick sputtered, his eyes bulging, “I knew that you had both had some training in the basic Patronus shield, but Dumbledore never mentioned... though I suppose I ought to have suspected...

“And most of the charms you have mentioned aren’t even taught until sixth and seventh year.” The diminutive professor stroked his goatee thoughtfully. “Tell me - have you either of you practiced performing any spells nonverbally?”

“Er... nonverbally?” Harry looked puzzled.

“I mean without saying the incantations out loud.”

“Oh... er... I do loads of them nonverbally,” responded Harry uncertainly, “except for the Patronus Charm, I usually forget to say them out loud - I just do a lot of the spells automatically without thinking once I've learned them. Hermione does too... That’s alright isn’t it?”

“Wait, did you just say you simply _**forget**_ to say them out loud?” Flitwick looked a bit faint. “Yes... indeed! That’s perfectly appropriate Potter - usually people have to learn how to ‘forget’ - in Sixth Year...”

“Professor Moody said you’d be pleased when you found out,” Hermione beamed. She reached into her book bag and pulled out the “ridiculously advanced” Charms book they had been reading and handed it to Professor Flitwick.

“We’ve also been studying the spells in here sir,” she continued. “We’re working on Pictura Portus at the moment, but we’ve also been looking at the Undetectable Extension Charm, and Protego Horribilis...”

“...and the Disillusionment Charm,” said Harry, grinning.

Professor Flitwick looked up from the thick book, smiling and nodding in satisfaction. The Potters had been the most proficient pupils in his class that he’d seen in a number of years, but he hadn’t been aware of quite how advanced they had become since the Triwizard tournament had begun.

“Well, Potters... It would appear that it behooves me to create a structured Independent Study syllabus for you both to follow, so you won’t have any gaps in your knowledge as you move forward...”

Hermione basked in the glow of Flitwick’s praises the rest of the day, the distress of the morning news forgotten. Harry was slightly less pleased as Hermione seemed eager to regale all of their friends with an accounting of his academic progress. 

“...and the only class that Harry is still struggling in is Arithmancy,” Hermione was proudly telling Lavender, Parvati, Daphne, Jennifer, Neville and Hannah as they all made their way to the next class. 

“Well, I doubt I’ll ever be any good at it,” Harry muttered, blushing furiously and wishing that Hermione would shut-up. “I’ll just be happy if I can continue to scrape Acceptables. And I’m not very good at Astronomy either.”

“Don’t be silly Harry - I’m sure you’ll eventually be getting E’s in Arithmancy, and you’re doing just fine in Astronomy,” Hermione said airily. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re advanced in many of the most important classes. It’s no wonder that Remus and Sirius think you could easily take an extended leave of absence from Hogwarts without damaging your academic record...”

“We’re both already doing sixth year Potions, you’re brilliant in Ancient Runes, you should probably be in a seventh year Defence Against the Dark Arts class, and you could easily pass your OWL’s in Transfigurations with an E...”

To Harry’s dismay, Hermione kept gushing about his prodigious skills and exceptional study habits at every opportunity without pausing to take a breath. Hermione didn’t stop until it was time for Amycus Carrow’s class.

The Inquisitor’s class was their last full period of the day. Amycus Carrow held it in the Great Hall to accommodate the fifth year students of all the Houses all at once. Professor Carrow oozed a malignant joy as he launched into his lesson which focused on the Blood lineage of the most prominent pureblood families in Britain.

Professor Amycus Carrow cast his gaze across the Great Hall, his eyes narrowing and a thin sly smile creeping to his lips when he spied Harry Potter.

“Well, well... Here we all are!” the Inquisitor drawled, “Finally, at long last, Hogwarts will be providing the knowledge which is necessary for a proper appreciation of the Traditions and Heritage of our ancient wizarding culture.

“The Ministry believes that for far too long have those with less than full... _genetic potential_ been allowed to join wizard society with a less than adequate respect for their superiors, and an unacceptably low level of understanding of our Culture for complete assimilation...”

Hermione bristled angrily, and it took Harry an incredible amount of restraint - every ounce of his will in fact - to prevent himself from objecting in a furious outburst to Amycus Carrow’s vile rhetoric. He knew it would do nobody any good to deliberately antagonise the Inquisitor.

Professor Carrow’s first lesson consisted mostly of an examination of the Sacred Twenty Eight - those families which had been considered the most Pureblood family lines of the surviving Pureblood Houses when the Pureblood Directory had been created in the 1930’s. 

Every student received an updated copy of the Directory to study, and the lecture was accompanied by images on the Wiz-Vision screen of the most important historical and current Heads of Houses, interspersed with diagrammes of some of the family trees.

As Professor Carrow explained it, there were still roughly fifty Houses in Britain, even today, but the Pureblood Directory only contained those whose families were deemed the “Purest” for one reason or another.

Early drafts of the Directory which had been discovered, had apparently contained 29 family names, and Professor Carrow seemed to relish revealing the fact that - although they were one of the oldest lines - the Potter family had been excluded by the time of publication due to their appalling lack of respect for blood-status. 

Amycus smirked nastily and looked right at Harry as Draco Malfoy and a number of Slytherins chortled gleefully. Harry rolled his eyes and yawned to show that he couldn’t care less. But he was interested to see that as the Directory had originally been published in the 1930's, the Gaunt line appeared to end with a question mark.

By all indications, Tom Riddle had chosen not to update the status of the Gaunt Family with his name in order to hide the fact that his father had actually been a muggle - a fact that was apparently only known to members of the Order of the Phoenix, the Potters, and some of their friends. Harry whispered his bemusement to Hermione.

“I expect only Wormtail knew,” Hermione quietly responded. “He was the only one at Riddle Manor when he returned Voldemort to a proper body. I suppose Voldemort could have told some of his followers too - like Bellatrix - but it’s doubtful. Obviously he didn’t see fit to tell anyone at all during the first war.”

Harry nodded and returned his attention to Mr Carrow’s lecture.

Decades had gone by with the Directory containing only the Sacred Twenty Eight. A fair number of students looked thoroughly embarrassed to see their family names included on the list, including Daphne, Neville, Ernie MacMillan, and Hannah Abbott.

Harry wasn’t too surprised when Professor Carrow explained that the blood-status of the Black Family and the Weasley family had recently been downgraded to “Questionable” due to the “lack of respect” shown for their heritage by the current Heads of those Houses. Harry knew that Sirius and Narcissa Black wouldn’t care, and he presumed that Arthur Weasley didn’t give a rat’s arse either.

“Hey Weaselby,” Draco taunted Ron under his breath, “How does it feel to be disowned.”

“Shove it Malfoy!” Ron retorted bitterly. Ron honestly didn’t give a fig that his family was known as blood-traitors, but he hated that Malfoy had another piece of ammunition to goad him with. Ron hoped that the quidditch tryouts after classes would improve his mood.

After they left the Great Hall, Theo, Blaise, and Pansy caught up with the Potters, all peering around nervously to make sure that the rest of the Slytherins had gone.

“Er... just thought you probably ought to know Harry,” said Theo, “I overheard them... Draco and Crabbe and Goyle - they’ve been talking about how Dumbledore must’ve given you a secret weapon to use against V...V...Voldemort’s army - and they’ve been saying that they and the Carrows have been ordered to try and find out what it is... by any means necessary....”

“But they’re biding their time for a bit,” Blaise added. “They’re just waiting for the Minister to get around to removing Dumbledore...”

**~o0o~**

It was an excited Ron and Ginny who joined the Potters at the Mingling Table that evening for dinner. Ron was accompanied by Seamus and Ginny by Luna, both of whom looked quite proud of their respective companions. Fred and George arrived too, apparently having got over their berating by Lavender who was sitting with Viktor at the end of the table with a satisfied smile on her face.

“I can’t believe it Harry,” Ron gasped, “I actually made the Quidditch team this year... I got the Keeper position.”

“I know - I was there... remember?” Harry grinned after listening to Ron for the hundredth time. Ron had been repeating himself until he was almost hoarse, still trying to process the amazing fact that he had made the team

“We can’t believe it either,” snorted Fred, “I don’t know what Angelina was thinking...”

Ron and Ginny both glared, and George shot Fred a reproving look. Fred shut-up immediately, an apologetic expression replacing the teasing one.

“Don’t listen to him, Ron,” said George kindly, “Fred’s only joking. We’re both really proud of you - aren’t we Fred!?”

“Of course we are,” Fred hurriedly agreed. “Sorry Ron. Old habits... You’ve been practicing really hard - you deserve it... really, I mean it!”

Ron looked mollified and nodded his acceptance of Fred’s apology.

“And I can’t believe that I’m going to be the Seeker this year,” Ginny squealed. 

“That’s bloody brilliant!” said Harry with a grin. He was really pleased that Ron was finally getting his chance to shine at something. “I can’t wait to see you both play in the first match...”

“I’m so thrilled for you both!” Hermione beamed.

Everyone around the table congratulated Ron and Ginny, and Ron was especially pleased when Viktor Krum offered his praises. 

“They’ll have to change the name of the team to Team Weasley...” Luna giggled.

“Too true!” George mused. “Mind you, not all of the Gryffindors are pleased about that...”

“Too bad for McLaggen...” Fred laughed. “What an idiot! ... I can’t believe he thought he stood a chance. Angelina hates him!”

“Towler accused Angelina of favouritism,” chimed in George. “Which is stupid, because Ron and Ginny won their spots fair and square.”

“Who else ees on ze team?” Fleur asked politely. 

“Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet are still on the team as Chasers,” Ginny responded gleefully, “That’s why I didn’t bother to try out for that position. But it means for the first time in fifteen years the girls will outnumber the boys - according to McGonagall.”

Fred made a face and rolled his eyes, but then he grinned and winked to show that he was just joking.

George gave Ron a serious look. “Of course that means you’ll have to be on your best behaviour Ron.”

“I’ll do my best t’be nice...” Ron mumbled, swallowed nervously, his ears turning pink. “I promise!”

**~o0o~**

The rainy week had cleared up by Saturday, leaving naught but a few puffy white clouds scudding across the sky. The cheerful morning sun glimmered on the surface of the Black Lake as some ducks dove for fish. Harry peered around to make sure that they were still alone, and shared a look with Hermione before turning back to Viktor, Lavender, and Cedric and Cho.

“... And whatever happens Harry, you can count on me,” Cedric was saying as he smiled sincerely. “I’m in! I’ll start training some of the other Hufflepuffs - but only the ones I’m sure of - and Cho of course. And we’ll give Padma and a few of the other Ravenclaws as much help as we can to form their own defence team as well.”

“Excellent! Thanks loads Cedric,” said Harry, returning his smile. “Hermione, Dora, and I have our hands full as it is. This’ll make it easier for Susan and Padma if they can train with you a bit too during the week... And it’ll be much safer for all of us to work in small groups when it’s most convenient - especially given our different schedules...

“The Twins are fast learners. I’m sure they’ll be able to pick up enough on the weekends with us to pass it on to the Gryffindors the rest of the week. I don’t know how much time we have before the Minister makes her next big play - but I’m sure she’ll try to gin up a good excuse to sack Dumbledore sooner or later.

“After that, all bets are off on how long we have before she comes after me and Hermione. So we’ll just have to train up as many trustworthy people as best as we can in the meantime. And don’t forget - protecting muggleborn students are the top priority once Dumbledore’s gone... 

“I don’t think the Minister is keen on harming any purebloods - and she’s more concerned about halfbloods ‘knowing their place’ than doing them in,” Harry concluded. 

“Except for Harry... and anyone who openly tries to help us of course!” Hermione exclaimed crossly.

**~o0o~**

Following lunch the Potters and their friends made their way to the Room of Requirement through the drafty stone corridors, carefully avoiding being spotted by the Carrows thanks to the Marauders’ Map.

“Wicked Harry!” Fred grinned when he saw the training room for the first time.

“Isn’t it though?” said Ginny, “We’ve been training here with Harry and Hermione since before the Third Task of the Triwiz.”

“This is bloody brilliant!” said George in an awed tone, “We had no idea this room even existed.” Fred and George peered at Ginny with admiration, seeing her with new eyes.

“Good on you oh sister of ours - you’ve done the Weasley name proud...” said Fred.

“You managed to keep Harry and Hermione’s secret good and proper...” George continued. “Not to mention helping to fight the Noseless Wonder’s army...”

“Dad and Bill didn’t even tell us that,” Fred sniggered. “I suppose he didn’t want to alarm Mum. She’d scream blue murder if she ever found out.”

“Anyway - remember, you’ve got to keep this a secret,” Harry warned. “It wouldn’t do for the Carrows, or any of the cretins like Malfoy or McLaggen to find out about the Room of Requirement.”

“Don’t worry Harry. You can trust us,” Padma promised as she gave him a hug.

“I know I can,” Harry said, his face reddening. “I just meant to make sure you’re careful that no-one sees you when you meet us here...”

“And thanks for inviting us,” Susan Bones beamed and threw her arms around Harry too, giving him a kiss on the cheek as his blush deepened. “Hermione told me that we were the only ones you trusted enough to let us in on everything.”

“So, where do we start, Harry?” George asked.

“Well... I reckoned probably with a few muggle fighting techniques,” said Harry with a grin. Ten minutes later, Fred and George were both laid out, sprawled on the mat.

“Bloody Hell Harry! I hurt all over,” groaned George. “What did Mad Eye and Dora teach these girls?”

“Just a few tricks we picked up in muggle gyms,” Dora chuckled. “Mad Eye’s one of the few Aurors to bother makin’ the effort. Only those ‘oo trained under ‘im at boot-camp really know how t’do it.”

“Remind me never to prank this lot,” Fred moaned at his twin as he looked up at Ginny and Daphne from the floor.

“Are you alright?” asked Daphne, worry etched on her features. “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to hurt you. I held back as much as possible.”

George guffawed. “Blimey, if that was you two holding back, I never want to be on your bad sides! Some Beaters we are... if Oliver could see us now, he’d cut us from the team.”

“That’s why we're lucky Angelina’s captain of the team this year...” muttered Fred.

“Nice work on Fred, Daphne,” giggled Ginny. “And I never thought I’d see the day that I could clobber Fred or George at anything.”

“Très bien Ginny, Daphne,” Fleur tittered.

“Don’t worry. We’ll focus on combat spells tomorrow,” said Harry sympathetically. “It’s good to know a few muggle fighting techniques too though. Once you’re halfway decent, you should start training some of the other Gryffindors.”

Following the practice in the Room of Requirement, Harry spent the next two hours painting Runes and Chinese symbols on his wife and their friends in the Unaffiliated Common Room, minus the newest recruits who had returned to their respective dorms. 

Neville chose to be inked first, knowing what was coming next. He fled as soon as Harry was finished with him, and Viktor followed soon after. 

Harry grinned when all of the girls stripped off their blouses revealing their undergarments, ready to be tattooed. Apparently modesty was a thing of the past in the completely private Unaffiliated common room. Hermione smirked, thinking that perhaps the others had decided that Harry should be considered an honorary “girl” since seeing him morph into one, and no doubt hoping to hold him to Harriet’s promise of a fashion show. Lavender blushed, but seemed comfortable enough to remove her shirt when she saw that the other girls were alright with it.

“I visited Remus and Sirius earlier today,” said Dora as Harry inked her last. “Remus told me I should teach you lot ‘ow to apparate seein’ as he can’t come up to the Castle at the moment...”

“I spoke to Dumbledore about it,” she continued, “and he says we can practice in the Room of Requirement. We won’t be able to go beyond the Room of course, but ‘e says the Room’s magic should allow us to apparate from one spot to another within its confines.”

Harry’s brows furrowed in thought. “Alright... it looks like we’ll be spending a lot of time in the Room of Requirement on the weekends then. We can practice apparating in the mornings. I’ll tell the Twins and Padma and Susan to come for training in the afternoons just after lunch.”

“Sounds like a plan Harry,” Dora agreed.

Harry looked around when he heard the piano, spying Hermione and Jennifer both playing together. He smiled when he heard Parvati’s lilting voice joining in. Luna, Ginny, Fleur, and Daphne had finally managed to convince Parvati to sing for everyone after ganging up on her.

Harry thought he recognised the tune as a particularly soulful Celtic folk song that Aunt Petunia would often listen to when Vernon wasn’t around. The only time he could remember Petunia ever listening to music was when Uncle Vernon had been at work. 

She had been particularly fond of folk music and opera which Uncle Vernon had despised. Harry felt his eyes grow watery as the memories mingled with the present, not entirely sure why. He took off his glasses and wiped his blurry eyes so that he could see properly to finish tattooing Dora.

“Cor!” Dora marveled. “Parvati’s got a lovely singin’ voice... and I ‘ad no idea that Hermione could play the piano too.”

“Yeah, Hermione just started playing again recently,” Harry said creakily. He cleared his throat. “...She’s really good.”

**~o0o~**

Harry was worn out and thought that he and Hermione might spend the rest of the afternoon lazing around a bit, but Hermione apparently had other ideas. Shortly after he’d finished inking everyone, Hermione dragged him to the unused classroom - now storeroom - which had contained the Mirror of Erised.

He assumed that they would be practicing the Pictura Portus Charm on the paintings stored within. But Harry’s assumption wasn’t entirely correct. While making certain that the door was well and truly locked, Harry felt Hermione’s arms entwine around his waist and her chin on his shoulder as she began to nuzzle his neck. 

Harry turned around, smirking when he realised that Hermione had other plans, and returned her affections. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry caught a glimpse of a sunny meadow - grasses and wildflowers waving in the breeze, cotton ball clouds sweeping across the sky - by a glistening blue lake in the painting behind Hermione as their kisses grew more heated. Lips parting wetly from hers to take a breath, Harry had to ask.

“Er... what’s up Hermione? Why are snogging in here?”

“Because we’re celebrating, Harry,” she replied with a naughty golden gleam in her eyes. “I’ve done it... I finally managed to perform the Pictura Charm and I thought we should test it out properly... by continuing this inside the landscape painting...”

Harry’s eyes lit up and he grinned. “That’s an absolutely _**brilliant**_ idea Hermione! Let’s give it a go then...” 

Hermione chanted the incantation and performed the intricate wand movements. The surface of the painting began to shimmer. Taking Harry’s hand, Hermione stepped into the frame and giddily pulled him through. 

Moments later they were rolling around in the golden meadow, shedding clothes as their passions intensified. One hand behind Harry’s head and the other pressing into the small of his back, Hermione reclined on the painted ground. It wasn’t long before the fervor took them both, sweeping them away in a torrent of ecstasy.

When they were finished, Hermione sighed in contentment, snuggled under one of Harry’s arms, a hand caressing his bare chest. They lay together in the field of long golden grasses and purple wildflowers by the shimmering deep-blue water of the lake, basking under the bright sun. 

It felt amazingly lifelike even though every brush-stroke was visible in every blade of grass which surrounded the Potters’ naked figures, and in every ripple on the surface of the lake. A large wooden frame hung in mid-air nearby, through which they could both still see the unused classroom on the other side. 

The only other thing besides the painted textures of their surroundings which made it obvious that the apparently three dimensional world they were in wasn’t quite “real,” was the fact that to either side of the frame the world faded into a colourless blankness at an angle concomitant to the perspective at which it had been painted. It was as if they were inside a life-size diorama - the snowcapped mountains behind the rolling green foothills even appeared to be quite some distance away.

“I reckon we could keep walking that direction and climb those mountains Hermione,” Harry marveled. “I suppose there’s no backside to them though...”

“I think you’re right Harry - it would seem that each painting is a finite space only containing whatever was in the visual field that the painter could fit onto the canvas. I expect if we walked off into the blank bits of space at the sides, we’d emerge into the ‘world’ of the next nearest picture in the classroom, just like the wizard portraits do.”

“It would be really weird if this was a lot less realistic picture - like a cartoon,” Harry mused.

Hermione giggled. “That wouldn’t be so bad. Can you imagine being inside an Impressionist, the later period ones I mean - or even worse - a Cubist painting?”

Harry thought back to some of the paintings in the London art museums that he had been to with Hermione and his mind boggled.

“Er... some of those Post-Impressionist ones like some of van Gogh’s would be really interesting actually - _Starry Night_ would be amazing - but Cubist... no... definitely not! I think I’d go mad inside a Picasso. I wonder if someone saw us in a painting though, would we look like we were painted in the style of the painting too?” Harry wondered.

Hermione thought for a moment, imagining herself as a Monet girl, or even a Renoir nude. She began to flush, perking with arousal once more at the very idea.

“Well... have a really good look at me Harry,” Hermione giggled again as she shimmied in front of Harry’s face. “Do you see any paintbrush-strokes?”

Harry grinned and tickled Hermione's ribs, shaking his head as she shrieked with laughter.

“Only the ones that I painted on you myself,” he replied with a chuckle as he eyed the Runic and Chinese symbol tattoos. “Shame really... you’d be a gorgeous Early Impressionist painting Hermione...”

Hermione beamed radiantly. Harry suddenly found himself in another heated embrace with Hermione atop him amidst the painted grasses and wildflowers...


	54. Milestones and Crossroads

All in all, despite their overloaded schedule and the increasing tension of trying to fly under the radar of the Inquisitors, Harry and Hermione somehow managed to keep on an even keel. If anything, staying busy provided a good distraction from their anxiety. 

Sunday morning they had practiced apparating in the Room of Requirement with their friends under Dora’s patient instruction. Nobody managed it that first morning - except for Fleur and Viktor as they already knew how - but Dora had assured everyone that almost nobody got it on the first try. 

Then the afternoon had been taken up by a lengthy and intense training session with the Twins, Susan, Padma, and Hannah Abbot. The Potters had been worn out by the time evening rolled around, yet both of them were too wound up by the apprehension of what the second week of the term would bring to fall asleep.

Sure enough, when they entered the Transfiguration classroom on Monday, Amycus Carrow was sitting in the back with a clipboard. Hermione in particular found his presence quite distracting; every time Professor McGonagall addressed her directly she could hear the scratching of Mr Carrow’s quill as he took notes. 

McGonagall shot the Inquisitor a nasty glare which he returned with a sinister smirk. Harry scowled, certain that Mr Carrow was trying to intimidate Hermione. 

“Wonder whose class he’s going to ‘inspect’ next?” Harry muttered when lessons were finished. Hermione frowned, not having an answer. Each day was met with some trepidation, but they managed to make it to the end of the week without any more incidents. 

And Saturday morning the Potters threw themselves back into work, meeting Dora and their friends in the Room of Requirement for another round of Apparition lessons. This time, the lessons were much more successful, and everyone except Neville managed to apparate at least once. Dora and Fleur both eased things along by first taking the younger students across the room by side-along apparition.

“Bloody Hell!” gasped Harry when he reappeared on the other side of the Room of Requirement, doubled over and looking like he was about to throw up. Hermione regarded Harry sympathetically, still appearing rather green herself.

“That was even worse than side-along apparition with Madam Pomfrey at the end of the Third Task,” Harry griped. “I felt like my head was going to implode...”

“It’s like being sucked through a straw...” Ginny agreed, who was still feeling quite ill. Luna gave her a comforting hug and kiss on the cheek. Surprisingly, Luna was the only one who hadn’t felt sick after her first solo apparition.

“That was horrible...” moaned Parvati, who was struggling not to vomit. 

“Well, you’re all doin’ very well, all things considered,” Dora said encouragingly. “Apparating gets a bit better after you’ve done it a few times. It helps if you’ve ‘ad a bit of experience with side-along apparition so you know ‘ow it's supposed t’feel. If you ‘adn’t, it mighta taken you all a few more lessons...”

Besides Neville, Daphne was the only one still struggling to twist into nothingness. Even Jennifer had managed to apparate. As she had been apparated by Dumbledore once already when he had rescued her and brought her to Hogwarts, Jennifer was able to remember how it was supposed to feel when it worked.

“Alright Daphne, let’s give it another go together then,” Dora kindly offered. She took Daphne’s arm, and with a loud crack they disappeared, reappearing seconds later with another noisy pop.

After a few minutes recovering, Daphne focused her intent with the destination firmly in mind. She turned on the spot and vanished. Moments later Daphne appeared next to the rest of the others and promptly emptied the contents of her stomach on the floor.

“Oh... well done Daphne!” said Hermione as she rubbed the other girl’s back. “Don’t feel bad - I threw up too.”

“Right... well that’s splendid,” Dora beamed as she pointed her wand and vanished the pile of vomit. “Now that most o’ you can do it solo, we’ll just practice it for a bit, and then we’ll practice a bit more tomorrow mornin’... I’m sure you’ll get it then Neville.

“Nobody splinched themselves, so that’s a jolly good sign. Once you know ‘ow to do it properly, it’s like riding a bicycle - you don’t really forget...”

As Hermione followed the others out of the Room of Requirement, Harry briefly took Dora aside and conferred in whispers with her while he had the opportunity.

After lunch, training their friends how to fight with spells and hand to hand combat techniques continued apace. Hermione noted with a bit of surprise that Harry had been absolutely correct regarding how rapidly the Twins picked things up. According to Ginny, the Twins didn’t perform nearly as well in school as their parents would have liked. But it was clear to Hermione that if they applied themselves, Fred and George could easily be at the top of their classes.

Harry and Dora tried to pack as much into the lesson as possible. And Harry was less reticent than ever to have everyone practicing some of the more dangerous spells. 

“Right, you have to be jolly careful when using this one,” Harry warned everyone authoritatively. “This curse is a bit dark - so it’s one you want to keep in reserve as a last resort and use only if you’re facing a particularly evil enemy who wouldn’t hesitate to cause great harm or even kill you.

“It’s a cutting spell like Diffindo, but it’s better for use in a fight. It’s great for when you want to stop an enemy from retaliating without necessarily killing them, and it works against some creatures which otherwise have strong magical protections. I had to use it loads in the Third Task. 

“But still... Sectumsempra can be very dangerous, and it is potentially lethal, so you have to be really careful not to use it on a person unless you’re absolutely sure that they’re going to hurt you or someone else...” 

Neville swallowed uncomfortably and looked the other way, not quite sure if he should mention that he’d overheard Harry discussing it with Hermione during the summer and then used it on Bellatrix Lestrange. 

It was getting late when everyone decided that they’d had enough for the day and that it was time to clean up and get ready for dinner. Harry was knackered and quite happy to just relax after dinner, but Hermione seemed intent to continue working, reading from the advanced Charms book. Harry sat up against his pillow and leaned over to have a look at whatever Hermione was working on. 

Hermione beamed at him, pleased to see his interest. “I’m just going over the Undetectable Extension Charm again, Harry. It’s quite complicated... perhaps even more complex than the Pictura Portus spell!”

“And illegal for private use too apparently,” muttered Harry as he peered at the page. “I wonder why though? It doesn’t look like a bad thing. It just makes loads more space on the inside of things than there is on the outside - like Sirius’s tent.”

“It’s not so much the spell itself Harry,” Hermione responded, “It’s using the spell on muggle objects which might fall into their hands and possibly create a breach of the Statute of Secrecy which is illegal - so the Ministry has restricted the spell’s use to the Ministry itself, or licensed manufacturers of certain wizarding products like the tents many people had at the World Cup, and the trunks we bring to school...”

“That seems bloody ridiculous to me,” Harry snorted, rolling his eyes. “What a load of hypocritical rubbish. I mean, it’s an undetectable charm for one thing... and tents and trunks are used by muggles too!

“The only reason I can think of for only allowing the Ministry and ‘licensed manufacturers’ to use the spell, is to make whoever owns the company enchanting tents and trunks bloody rich! I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the pureblood families owns the company and got the law passed just so that they could make a fortune by monopolising the use of the spell.”

Hermione frowned and bit her lip as she carefully considered what Harry was saying.

“I think you’re right Harry,” she said after a moment. “I was just going to use it anyway, because I think we’ll need to charm some bags so that we can pack everything we’ll need in them and carry them around with us in case we have to leave in a hurry. The Ministry is just a hotbed of corruption at the moment, so I’m not particularly fussed about breaking a capricious law.”

“Right!” said Harry, nodding distractedly. He was vaguely please that Hermione was planning ahead, but Harry’s train of thought kept chugging along the same track and he started feeling angry.

“You know, the more I think about it Hermione, why are some wizard families so filthy rich, and others so poor anyway? ...It’s even less fair for things to be like that in the wizard world than it is in the muggle world. As I look at all of the advanced material we’ve been studying - in Transfiguration too - I can see that there is loads of stuff that wizards can do that I’d never even thought about until recently.

“I know that the exceptions to Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration mean that you can’t create basic things like gold and food out of thin air, but if you’ve got a bit of food, you can increase the quantity, and you can transform it into anything you like too!

“And why do _**Wizards**_ even need gold anyway? I mean sure... okay... maybe a _**bit**_ of gold, but as far as I can see, there are loads and loads of spells which could be put to use making whatever we need - homes for everyone - enough food for everyone - clothes - healing people...”

Harry’s face flushed angrily and Hermione could see that Harry was starting to get really worked up. Hermione kept quiet because she had never really considered all of the ramifications herself; she had never prioritised “householdy” transfiguration for things like cooking and cleaning. 

Hermione suddenly realised that was probably in good part because she had grown up with plenty of everything including lovely holidays abroad, all provided for by her attentive parents. Harry had grown up with next to nothing to call his own and had been neglected and abused. His sense of the unfairness of things flooded Hermione’s own sense of empathy and she let Harry continue to rant.

“I know that not every wizard is good at every kind of magic there is,” he went on, “but it’s obvious that those who are good at certain things can help make up for whatever other wizards lack.

“It’s just so bloody unfair Hermione! Even though Pureblood supremacists have been publicly frowned upon since the late 1940’s - until recently - they’ve still been allowed to run things behind the scenes and manipulate laws to guarantee their wealth at the expense of everyone else!

“I swear Hermione, if we can put an end to Minister Umbridge’s regime, I’m going to do everything in my power as a member of the Wizengamot to make some bloody changes in Wizarding Britain! And we should do something for Muggle society too. Why should poor Muggles have to suffer when Wizards have so much to offer to the rest of the world...?”

Harry was fuming, and he was intending to go on about putting the Gold that Sirius had given him to better use to help others too, but he suddenly noticed the tears streaming down Hermione’s flushed cheeks as she bit her quivering lower lip to keep from sobbing. Harry’s anger vanished as rapidly as it had onset, only to be replaced by an overwhelming feeling of guilt.

“I’m so sorry Hermione...” Harry gasped as he panicked, wrapping his arms around Hermione. “I didn’t mean to upset you... I... I just lost my head...”

Harry was stunned when Hermione crushed her lips against his own to shut him up. After a few moments their lips parted wetly, and Hermione leaned back to peer into Harry’s iridescent green eyes.

“No Harry, don’t you ever apologise for being who you are,” said Hermione, “I’m only upset because I feel you in my heart so deeply that it hurts - everything you said is true! And that’s why I love you so much - your compassion - your sense of fairness and wanting to treat everyone kindly... That’s what makes you who you are.

“You know I’ve always wanted the same things as you do Harry - being kind to one another - equality - fairness... I wanted to save House Elves from slavery - you actually managed to free one - and Dobby is much happier for it... 

“All of my life most people have just seen me as a bossy swotter, not seeing - not understanding - who I really am. When I first came to Hogwarts, I... I actually thought things might be different... that people might actually like me more in the wizard world than they did in the muggle world.

“Harry... I know you thought I was a bit bossy too - like Percy - and maybe... maybe I am - but you never said it. And you were the first person to ever not pick on me for being clever! You never once called me a ‘know-it-all’ - but you also made me see what I had missed... that some rules were arbitrary and unfair... that people in authority aren’t always right... and that there is more to being smart than book knowledge...”

Harry smiled at Hermione and took her face in his hands, wiping away the tears from her pink cheeks with his thumbs.

“I love you too Hermione,” he whispered. “Yeah, it’s true... I did think you were a bit bossy at first. But inside... I knew that you were only trying to do what you thought what was right to stop me from making bad decisions - to protect me... even from myself.

“You were _never_ like Percy... I don’t want you to _**ever**_ think that! You only ever wanted the best for me... for everyone really. He just wants the best for himself! He likes rules just because he likes to order people around and be number one... 

“Ron once told me that Percy was really ambitious - that all Percy ever really wanted was to be Minister one day. And Ron was right! That’s why Percy sold out his family and his friends... I know you would never do that. 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me... You make me a better person! You mean the world to me Hermione...”

Hermione’s breath caught as Harry pulled her closer, melting into his kiss...

**~o0o~**

Monday brought thunderous looking grey skies and rain again. Harry peered at the snowy white owl apologetically as he stroked her feathers.

“Sorry Hedwig, but this is important. You don’t have to rush though - as long as you’re back by next Monday...”

“Where are you sending Hedwig, Harry?” asked Hermione, having just stepped out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel around her and wet hair. Harry spun around, startled. He’d thought that Hermione would be in the shower a bit longer.

“Oh... er... nowhere really,” Harry mumbled, casting around for an excuse. “Just... erm... thought I’d send a letter... to Gringotts - checking my accounts...” Which wasn’t entirely a lie, as Hedwig would indeed be making a stop at Gringotts while in London. 

Hermione bit her lip, wondering what Harry was up to, but she put it out of her mind to focus on schoolwork. The day seemed to be going relatively smoothly until Ron, Seamus, Parvati, Neville and Lavender met the Potters, Jennifer, and Daphne on the way to Care of Magical Creatures.

“That Carrow plonker was in Divination this morning,” said Ron, looking amused. “He made Trelawny look a bit of an idiot.”

Lavender and Parvati both gave Ron a dirty look. 

“It was awful the way he treated her!” Lavender snapped. “Of course she couldn’t perform put on the spot like that. The Inner-Eye doesn’t work on demand...”

Hermione coughed and flushed, thinking better of saying anything; Harry suddenly peered at his feet with great interest. 

“Erm... Sorry Lavender...” Ron’s ears turned pink. “I didn’t mean anything by it. You know I hate that Carrow bloke...” 

Ron shut up when Seamus elbowed him. Everyone groaned when they saw Mr Carrow waiting in the clearing with his ever present clipboard and a disdainful sneer on his face. Hagrid seemed rather flustered as he continued the lessons with Thestrals that day. 

The Potters both warily eyed the Inquisitor, wondering if he was going to take Hagrid to task as he had apparently done to Trelawny. But as in McGonagall’s class, Mr Carrow seemed more interested in observing Hagrid’s interaction with Harry and Hermione than anything. Harry now understood that the Inquisitor wasn’t just trying to intimidate Hermione for being muggleborn - he was looking for any signs that they might be up to something.

And so the rest of the week passed much as it had the previous week, with the Potters looking around every corner, wondering where Mr Carrow was going to strike next. But in the end, they didn’t see him again until his class on Friday afternoon. 

Despite the somewhat provocative nature of the subject matter, Mr Carrow’s lecture even managed to bore a number of the Slytherins to tears, as it focused almost entirely on proper etiquette in the company of Pureblood elites. It was almost as bad as the worst of Professor Binns’s lectures.

Only Draco and his gang seemed to delight in what they thought should be a discomforting class for mudbloods and halfbloods. But most of the students were simply perplexed and indifferent to the tedious and antiquated guidelines for proper decorum towards their “superiors.” Many of them were doodling on their parchments or staring into space.

Harry was sorely tempted to storm out just to show exactly how little respect he had for all of the pureblood rubbish. But as before, he and Hermione quietly endured the class until it was over. They both breathed a sigh of relief when Saturday arrived once again.

The training session in the Room of Requirement on Saturday had been moved to the morning so that the Twins and Ginny could attend Quidditch Practice in the afternoon, as the Slytherins had booked the pitch for the morning.

“Mind you, it’s all for the best really...” Fred began.

“...Ron’s not really a morning person,” George concluded.

“But he’s doing brilliantly!” said Ginny. “You should come and watch us practice this afternoon.”

“That’s a lovely idea Ginny.” Hermione glanced at Harry who seemed quite keen on Ginny’s suggestion. “I think we could all do with a bit of a break.”

Accompanied by their friends and a number of other Gryffindors, Harry and Hermione took seats in the stands to watch the Gryffindor team practice.

Jennifer was fascinated to see a full team play, as she had only ever seen her friends play casually with the quaffle and the snitch. The game looked much more dangerous with a bludger hurtling around and beaters whacking at it with their bats, and she got caught up in the excitement.

Ron grinned when he saw who had come to watch him. It felt good to be the centre of attention for a change, and he was determined to show Harry what he could do. Unfortunately Ron was so busy thinking about impressing Harry, that he almost missed seeing a quaffle heading for the hoop to his right.

But it turned out to be a perfect opportunity to show off a bit. Ron dove for it and deliberately slipped from his broom while holding on to it tightly and dangling. He swung his legs around, kicking the quaffle away from the hoop and pulled himself back onto his broom in one smooth motion. Seamus cheered loudly.

Ron peered at the stands and grinned again when he saw Harry’s suitably awed expression. He had been practicing that trick a lot while on holiday in Ireland with Seamus.

“Good save Ron,” yelled Luna. 

Parvati and Lavender joined in applauding noisily, both having apparently forgiven Ron for his faux pas earlier that week. Dora was stunned at Ron’s skill; he was far better than she had imagined he would be. Ron was elated at all of the accolades, and even more so when Viktor Krum flashed a thumbs up at him.

“Ron is actually quite good at keeping,” Hermione said quietly to Harry as she clapped dutifully.

“Yeah... that was a bloody brilliant manoeuvre!” Harry responded with a hint of admiration in his voice. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” Then he noticed that Hermione’s applause was rather perfunctory.

“Are you cross with Ron about something then?” Harry asked her bluntly with a chuckle. “What’s he done now?”

“What?” Hermione was puzzled, then she realised what Harry was on about and giggled. “Oh Harry... the only reason I ever showed any interest in Quidditch at all was because you were playing! I couldn’t keep my eyes off you... Admittedly it was partly because I was always scared to death for you...”

“But the Quidditch World Cup,” Harry interjected, “I thought you actually liked it.”

“I wanted to go because you wanted to go,” Hermione bit her lip and fluttered her eyelashes, looking a bit sheepish. “I just wanted to be with you... to share your joy in something that you love so much. 

“And I have to admit, it was rather exciting seeing other players who fly as well as you. I’ve always thought your flying skills were amazing - ever since the day you got Neville’s Remembrall back from Malfoy.”

“It was incredible...” Hermione continued, her eyes lighting up, “...your very first time on a broom! I couldn’t even get my broom off the ground because I was so terrified, but there you were - soaring around like you were born to fly. It was one of the first times I realised that I couldn’t learn everything from a book...”

Suddenly a red haired girl zoomed by chasing a flash of gold, capturing both Potters’ attention. Moments later, Ginny held a struggling snitch in her hand and the stands burst into applause again. Everyone was very impressed with Ginny’s skills. She caught the snitch several more times during the Gryffindor Quidditch practice.

The practice was only marred near the end by the arrival of some Slytherins in the stands. Harry thought they had come to see what they might be up against, until he heard Draco Malfoy’s boastful voice. Daphne heard too and glared at Malfoy. Harry stiffened and Hermione’s grip on his arm tightened; the reason for Draco’s appearance suddenly became obvious.

“Yeah, I’m back on the team,” Malfoy gloated loudly to the Slytherins who were with him. “I’m very good at catching the Snitch with my left hand now after all the practice I got in at the Minister’s house over the summer.

“And it’s all thanks to Dolores that the specialists at Saint Mungo’s invented this magical prosthetic hand just for me. Mind you, it can't do everything - I can’t use a wand or write with it - but it’s perfect for holding a broom...”

**~o0o~**

Snape peered down at the Quidditch Pitch from one of the headmaster’s office windows, his inscrutability betrayed only by his glittering dark eyes. He was infuriated that the Carrows had overturned the permanent suspensions of Draco and his gang from the Slytherin Quidditch Team. Dumbledore didn’t look any happier than he as they both eyed the goings on below.

But there was nothing they could do about it due to the latest Educational Decree which read simply:

**Educational Decree #25  
The Inquisitors shall have Final Authority to review and revise all disciplinary proceedings at Hogwarts, both current and retroactive.**

**~o0o~**

That evening, Harry tried his best to just forget about Malfoy and focus on the spell he was practicing. He was determined that he would be able to perform the Pictura Portus charm before the weekend was out. It was as complicated as Hermione had said, but Charms was his best subject next to Defence Against the Dark Arts and he knew he could have managed it sooner if he weren’t so distracted.

Finally, on the umpteenth try the painting of a mossy stone arched bridge over a burbling forest creek shimmered and his eyes lit up; Harry knew he’d done it. 

“Hermione, look... I’ve got it!” he said, as one of his hands sank into the canvas. “Let’s give it a go...” 

“Oh Harry, that’s excellent!” said Hermione as she looked up from the beaded handbag which she was working on. “Have you worked out the counter-spell to close it up?”

Harry grinned and waved his wand at the painting, then tried touching it again. This time his fingers never made it past the surface.

“Does that answer your question Hermione?”

Hermione beamed and nodded. “I have something to show you too Harry! Here... reach into my handbag.”

Harry extended his hand into the small bag, which was no bigger than the average purse. His eyes widened in astonishment as his arm disappeared inside all the way up to his shoulder.

It wasn’t so much that he was surprised; he knew Hermione would be able to work out how to perform the complex charm. It was just that no matter how much magic Harry saw, it never ceased to excite and astonish him. Even after witnessing all of the horrid Dark magic that he’d seen in his life, all of the nice magic continued to fill him with delight and wonder, inspiring him to try to be as good at it as his mum and dad had been.

The thrill took him back... back to the night Hagrid had knocked down a door of a hut on an island in the middle of the sea... back to the first time Harry had returned from Diagon Alley and read all of his schoolbooks into the wee hours of the morning.

“Fantastic Hermione... you’re a genius!”

“You are too Harry!” Hermione blushed cheerfully and she gave Harry a kiss. “I’m going to apply the charm to everyone’s bookbags tomorrow so we can be ready to go at a moments notice. Now... why don’t you do the Pictura charm again so we can see what that painting’s like from the inside?”

**~o0o~**

The following week passed with little untoward happening. It appeared that Mr Carrow was busy haunting other classes, and Draco seemed to be kept too busy and distracted with practice for the upcoming Quidditch match to spend much time harassing anyone. Apparently he wasn’t quite as adept at catching a snitch left-handed as he was at boasting

“You should have seen him in practice yesterday!” George snorted at breakfast-time on Monday morning. 

“The idiot could barely hold onto his broom with that new hand of his,” Fred guffawed. “I reckon he didn’t get as much practice in at the Minister’s house as he claims.”

“Malfoy’s prosthetic hand seemed to spasm a bit every time he was reaching for snitch with his other hand, and he fell off his broom twice,” Ginny said with a grin.

“Shame though... Unfortunately he wasn’t high up enough to hurt himself,” sighed Ron. 

Seamus sniggered and nodded. “Ye got tha’ right mate!”

“Don’t get too cocky!” Angelina admonished the Weasley siblings, frowning. “That’s only because Malfoy is used to reaching for the snitch with his right hand and gripping the broom with his left... The Slytherins have got the pitch booked for every afternoon this week to give him time to retrain himself - and he’s still got a good eye for spotting the snitch and a fast broom.”

“Sorry Angelina! You’re right of course...” Ginny sobered a bit. “And Malfoy was bloody irate at the end of practice. I almost thought he was going to curse Katie Bell for laughing at him when he stormed off the pitch.”

“Too true,” Fred acknowledged, his face darkening. “I wouldn’t put it past him and his mates to have a go at some of us to try and even the odds a bit.”

“Well, watch each others backs then. Don’t anyone wander around the castle alone - stick together as much as possible,” said Harry warningly, then he lowered his voice, “...and make some time to practice with the rest of the team what Dora and I showed you this week too... just in case.”

“I’ll make sure that they do Harry,” Angelina smiled gratefully. “Thank you lot... all of you! Ginny and the Twins already showed us a bit of what you’ve been teaching them yesterday. We don’t have as many Quidditch practices booked this week as the Slytherins do - so I’ve already made plans for the team and a few other Gryffindors to spend the rest of the time training...”

Angelina was interrupted when Hedwig flapped her wings exhaustedly and dropped two packages - one of them quite large - next to Harry on the table with a heavy thunk. Hedwig glowered at Harry and gave him a reproving peck. Hermione peered at them in curiosity.

“I’m sorry Hedwig,” said Harry. “I know that big one was heavy. That’s why I reckoned you’d need a bit more time to get back here with it.”

He passed Hedwig a cup of tea and she looked at Harry sheepishly as she dipped her beak in thirstily. Harry buttered her a piece of toast as well, and Hedwig cheered up.

“What’s in the parcels Harry?” asked Parvati pointedly, sharing a wink with Lavender. 

“Oh... er... it’s a surprise really - for Hermione’s 16th birthday tomorrow,” said Harry, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Hermione. Fleur and Dora pretended that this was the first they’d heard of it; Luna and Ginny giggled.

“Harry!” she squealed, giving him a hug, “I _**knew**_ you weren’t sending Hedwig to check your Gringotts accounts. But why didn’t you just say?” 

“Because I wanted it to _**really**_ be a surprise and give you less time to work out what it is.” Harry grinned at Hermione’s radiantly beaming face. 

“I wish someone had told me,” Jennifer whispered to Daphne.

“It’s alright,” Daphne murmured. “I know you haven’t had a chance to get out of Hogwarts yet to get yourself properly situated in the wizard world - to say nothing of buying birthday presents. Dora and Fleur have already made some arrangements with Harry for a birthday party...”

**~o0o~**

Hermione wondered why Crookshanks was looking at her as if he knew something that she didn’t. Crookshanks purred as she gave him a pet and stroked his bushy tail.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in on this ‘surprise’ birthday party,” she murmured to her cat.

“Actually, it was all Crookshanks’s idea,” Harry chortled. “Alright, ready to go then?” he asked, a big heavy bag under one arm.

“Honestly Harry, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” Hermione blushed as he led her to the Room of Requirement. “It’s just another birthday.”

“Of course it’s not Hermione,” Harry grinned. “A 16th birthday should be something special...”

“Close your eyes Hermione...” said Harry when they reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Hermione did as she was told, her heart racing in anticipation. Harry took Hermione’s hand and led her through the threshold into the Room of Requirement.

“Alright, you can open them now.”

Harry grinned at the awestruck expression on Hermione’s face. Hermione wasn’t quite sure what she had expected, but it certainly hadn’t been this. It was a stunningly realistic environment - one of the best impressions of the natural world in full daylight that she had seen the Room of Requirement perform.

“Wotcher Hermione...” the girl with spiky magenta hair giggled when she saw the look on Hermione’s countenance. Dora wriggled her matching magenta cat-tail gleefully, and waggled her furry magenta ears.

The rest of Hermione’s friends were already waiting with grinning faces - though Neville’s looked a bit flushed for some reason. It suddenly occurred to Hermione that Neville was unused to seeing so many girls in bikinis... and when it also suddenly hit her that everyone was in bikinis and swimsuits, she began to feel a bit overdressed. Harry shut the door behind them as he and Hermione stepped into the humid tropical glade.

Golden rays of sunlight streamed through the verdant canopy of the rainforest, striking the spray of mist from the small waterfall which tumbled over boulders and ferns into the azure bubbling pool. Little rainbows formed where the sunbeams hit the droplets hanging in the air.

They were surrounded by palm fronds and vines. Tiny fairies and marillion and lilac coloured butterflies flitted to and fro among the orchids, hibiscus, and lilies. The aroma of vanilla, coconut, and citrus was intoxicating. Hermione took off her shoes and stockings, delighting in the feel of each step across the springy carpet of moss.

“Oh Harry - it’s beautiful...” was all Hermione could muster before being rendered speechless.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it!” said Parvati as her own black satiny tail undulated. Luna’s fluffy white tail curled as she whispered something to Ginny and they both chortled.

“Oui,” Fleur cooed, her silvery tail and ears shining in the sunbeams. “ ‘Arry, ‘e has outdone himself.”

“Oh my God!” Hermione gasped.

Hermione’s eyes widened when it finally hit her what she was seeing. She had been so entranced by the surroundings, that she hadn’t noticed the most incredible bit. Daphne tittered as she turned around and wiggled her bikini clad bottom and furry blonde cat-tail at Hermione.

“I was wondering when you’d notice, Hermione!” giggled Luna.

Hermione glanced over at Jennifer, and sure enough, a silken ebony cat tail protruded from her behind as her furry black ears twitched. Hermione whirled around to see that Harry had already stripped down to his bathing trunks, and was sporting a shaggy black cat-tail and furry black ears too.

“Harry - how? ...what...?” sputtered Hermione, “I know you and Dora are metamorphs... but the others...”

“Some sort of Seventh Year transfiguration spell Hermione,” said Harry, beaming from one furry ear to the other. “It’s a spell some of the prank jinxes are based on apparently...”

“I’m sure Fred and George are having a field day with them,” Ginny giggled, waving a slinky tail as red as her hair. 

“That’s probably how they came up with those Canary Creams,” Neville muttered. 

“But... but when did you even get a chance to practice the spell Harry?” asked Hermione, looking extremely puzzled. “I can’t think of a single moment that we’ve been apart. And what on earth gave you the idea?”

“It was all Dora actually,” Harry replied. “Well... I got the idea for a cat-themed birthday a couple of weeks ago when I was petting Crookshanks. It made me think of the time you turned part cat in second year.

“Seeing as Dora knows all the disguise transfiguration spells, I reckoned she’d know how to come up with a spell to add cat-tails and ears. Anyway, Happy Birthday Hermione!”

Giggling, Hermione sprouted a tawny tail and ears when Dora waved her wand and performed the spell. Hermione gave Harry a kiss and ran her fingers through the fur of Harry’s black tail, which was as unkempt and shaggy as his black moptop. When their lips separated, Harry reached into his bag and retrieved two brightly wrapped parcels.

Hermione carefully unwrapped the larger parcel. As she had guessed, it was a book - a very large heavy book, bound in mahogany coloured leather with gold leaf trim, and it looked very old. The heady effect of the musty smell of the leather roused Hermione’s senses as her finger traced the gold embossed title of the book: _Mr. William Shakespeare's Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies: The Illuminated Wizarding Edition._

Breath quickening, Hermione gingerly cracked open the book. The illuminated script and illustrations nearly leapt off the page, displaying motion as all wizard pictures did. She recognised the frontispiece image as a scene from _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_. Hermione gasped when she saw the date of publication written on the vellum pages...

“Harry... this is over 350 years old! And I had no idea that Shakespeare was known in the wizard world. How on earth did you come across this?”

“I wasn’t sure that wizards knew about Shakespeare either,” Harry replied, beaming at Hermione’s obvious delight. “I tried Tomes and Scrolls in the village first, but the owner told me to try Flourish and Blotts. I sent a letter to the shop, and the owner said that he could find an old wizarding copy for me...”

“But Harry, this must have cost a fortune,” Hermione squeaked, feeling rather dizzy, hardly believing what she was holding in her hands. “Rare muggle editions of Shakespeare’s works from this era go for millions of pounds...”

“It’s alright Hermione - really,” Harry said quickly, swallowing anxiously when he spied Hermione’s eyes glistening wetly. He wondered if he’d overdone it. “I... I’ve got loads in the vault that Sirius gave me.

“And honestly, it wasn’t even very much - not much more than a Firebolt really - because as a muggle author, Shakespeare isn’t really in very high demand in the wizard world. Apparently Flourish and Blotts has had this copy for years, collecting dust! I... I just wanted to get you something I knew you’d like... something as special as you are for your 16th birthday!”

Even through her own blurry eyes, Hermione could see the worry in Harry’s eyes. Holding the heavy tome under one arm, she flung her other arm around him, kissing him.

“It’s exquisite Harry!” Hermione purred as Harry calmed in her embrace. “I love it! Thank you very much... I don’t know if you know this Harry, but Mum named me after the queen in _The Winter’s Tale_.”

“Really?” Harry gasped. He couldn’t believe his luck at having chosen such a perfect gift after all. “I had no idea. I only read a few of the plays for my sixth year in primary school - and that wasn’t one of them. _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ is my favourite of the ones I’ve read!”

Hermione giggled. She wasn’t surprised in the least to discover that had been Harry’s favourite Shakespeare play.

“Mine is _Macbeth_ ,” she murmured. Finally, letting Harry go, Hermione picked up the other parcel. It was much smaller than the first.

“That one’s from Sirius,” said Harry. “I actually did send Hedwig to Gringotts to collect it for him.”

Hermione unwrapped the second present to discover a midnight-blue jewellery box, her hands shaking slightly; she still couldn’t get over the incredible present that Harry had bought her.

“It’s beautiful!” Hermione exclaimed when she lifted the elegant silver and gold necklace out of the box. The oval shaped filigree pendant dangling from the necklace was inset with a gleaming Tigers Eye gemstone. “I’ll have to thank Sirius when I get a chance.”

After Harry put the necklace on Hermione, she turned around for the rest of their friends to see it.

“Daddy says Tigers Eye is supposed to bring Harmony and good fortune,” Luna said admiringly.

“Ees vairy chic, ‘Ermione!” said Fleur. “It will go nicely wiz your evening gowns.”

A short time later, Hermione had opened all of the other presents that everyone had given her, and placed them in her bag where she knew they would be safe. Dora opened a large picnic hamper, and soon everyone was eating the delicious strawberry shortcake and unmeltable vanilla ice-cream marbled with chocolate which Dobby had sent up from the Hogwarts kitchens.

Fleur had brought several bottles of champagne - sent from her family’s cellars by her father - and soon everyone was feeling very giggly. Hermione popped behind some enormous fronds to change into the bikini that Harry had put in the bag for her; moments later she slipped into the warm water with Harry and the others amidst the water lilies and tropical fern.

**~o0o~**

The weeks following Hermione’s birthday seemed to drag on ponderously and the Potters almost got used to the overbearing presence of the Inquisitors. But as the end of October drew nearer Harry grew more agitated again, convinced that the other shoe was about to drop on Halloween as it had every year at Hogwarts previously.

No-one was more shocked than Harry when he woke up to a stormy November First to find that nothing awful had happened yet. He and Hermione were both pleased that the secret training of numerous students right under the noses of the Inquisitors continued to escape notice. Harry hoped their luck would hold long enough to witness the first quidditch match of the season between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Finally, a week and a half later the morning of the match arrived. The skies were a pearly grey and the icy bite in the air brought a promise of snow which was already dusting the tops of the mountain peaks surrounding the Black Lake. 

Ron Weasley sat at the Gryffindor table glaring at the heaping pile of scrambled eggs and bacon on his plate. It was just sitting there, mocking his clenching gut and pale countenance. He took a sip of pumpkin juice, hoping it would settle his stomach. When that didn’t work, Ron buttered a crumpet and contemplated taking a bite.

“Ye alright Ron?” Seamus asked sympathetically, after witnessing Ron staring at the crumpet in his hand for several minutes. “Come on mate... ye’ve got ta eat somethin’...”

“I... I dunno,” Ron muttered. “I’ve never felt like this before - not hungry I mean.”

“It’s alright Ron,” said Ginny kindly. “It’s just nerves. Don’t worry about eating breakfast if you’re not feeling up to it...”

“You seem alright though,” Ron scowled, wondering how Ginny could appear so calm. “Maybe something’s wrong with me...”

“But I _am_ anxious,” Ginny responded, “This is my first real match too Ron...”

“You’ll be fine once you’re in the air,” said George encouragingly. “Everyone feels nervous their first time - right Fred?”

“Right on one George,” Fred agreed. “I threw up half a dozen times before my very first match... and we still clobbered the Ravenclaws 260 to 30.”

Ron looked even paler and George rolled his eyes at Fred.

Angelina thought that maybe it was time for her to step in and say something, “Whatever the final outcome is doesn’t matter Ron... Just remember that you made it onto the team on your own merits. I’ve seen you play, and you’re really good...”

“You’re more than good, you’re excellent Ron!” exclaimed Harry, interrupting Angelina.

Ron spun around in his seat, his eyes widened with surprise. Harry and Hermione both gave Ron an encouraging smile.

“That manoeuvre you performed the other day was brilliant!” Harry continued. “I know you can do this.”

Then, to Ron’s shock, Hermione leaned in, giving him a hug and a peck on the cheek. 

“We both believe in you Ron,” she said as Ron’s cheeks began to flush.

The Potters returned to the Mingling Table and watched Ron digging cheerfully into his heap of eggs and bacon from their seats.

“Thanks Hermione!” Harry gave his wife a grateful kiss. “You were right... he did need our encouragement! I hope I didn’t put you out too much though. I... I just thought a hug from you might do him some good...”

“It’s alright Harry...” Hermione murmured, returning Harry’s kiss. “I know I did it more for your sake - but I’d like to see Ron do well too...”

**~o0o~**

Draco Malfoy smirked as he flexed his prosthetic hand, the mechanical joints moving smoothly. He had this in the bag. He had been practicing for weeks and he had secretly put an extra-strength Gripping Charm on his broom. Once his mechanical hand was wrapped around the shaft, nothing would make it let go.

Draco heard a mighty roar and looked up in the stands. His eyes narrowed when he spotted one of Potter’s little girlfriends - the loony one - wearing what appeared to be a lion’s head for a hat. He snorted disdainfully and shook his head.

“Oi... Malfoy, you ready for this?” Montague barked,

“What...? Of course I’m ready!” Draco retorted with a sneer.

Draco wished Marcus Flint was still in charge. But Flint had declined to return to his captaincy after waking up one morning with his knees reversed, a faceful of octopus tentacles, and apparently something painful lodged in a very uncomfortable part of his anatomy. By all indications, Graham Montague reckoned it was his turn to captain the team now.

Angelina faced off against Montague, and when Madam Hooch gave the order to shake hands, Angelina returned the Slytherin’s vice-like grasp with a crushing grip of her own. Rolling her eyes when neither team captain seemed willing to let go, Madam Hooch blew the whistle.

“And they’re off...” Lee Jordan shouted into the megaphone. “It looks like Montague has a broken hand, well-deserved after his own pathetic attempt to show up the exquisitely endowed Angelina Johnson...”

“JORDAN!” snapped Professor McGonagall.

“Sorry Professor...” Lee grinned sheepishly, “Anyway - Pucey in possession of the quaffle - intercepted by Alicia - she goes for a goal - Bletchly misses - 10 points Gryffindor...”

The Unaffiliated enthusiastically joined in the raucous cheering for the Gryffindor team. Nearly everyone seemed to be rooting for Gryffindor, as most of the students couldn’t bear the idea of a Slytherin victory - especially with Malfoy back on the team. Only a few non-Slytherins appeared less than enamoured with the Gryffindor team.

“...Warrington with the quaffle now - he throws - smashing save by Ron Weasley - Angelina takes possession... fine legs on that girl, Fred Weasley’s one lucky bloke...” Lee caught McGonagall’s steely glare and moved on “...Angelina passes to Alicia Spinnet - Spinnet cut off by Goyle - passes to Katie Bell...another one of Gryffindor’s finest lasses...Bell shoots - she scores... Gryffindor up by 20 now...”

The game was fast-paced and brutal as the players zoomed around the Quidditch pitch, and the Slytherins grew angrier as Ron Weasley prevented them from scoring time and again. Katie Bell had the quaffle once more; Goyle flew to intercept and barreled into her, nearly knocking her off her broom.

“...FOUL...” Lee Jordan roared furiously, “...blatant blatching by Goyle - yes, Madam Hooch agrees - Katie looks a bit dazed--takes a penalty shot.... Oooooh, too bad, saved by Bletchly...”

Angered by Goyle’s foul, when he next had the bludger in his sights Fred walloped the ball hard, aiming directly at the Slytherin beater. The ball slammed into Goyle’s head; he spun around and went into a nosedive as stars flew before his eyes, pulling up at the very last second.

Ginny and Draco Malfoy both circled the pitch, high above the stands, keeping their eagle eyes out for the snitch. Ginny spotted the glittering golden ball first, hovering down the far end of the field. She sped towards it on the Firebolt which Hermione had given to her with Harry’s blessing. Draco cursed and put on a burst of speed.

Montague signaled Crabbe, but the idiot just stared back at him gormlessly. Rolling his eyes, Montague pointed at Ginny Weasley and mimed hitting her. Crabbe finally appeared to understand. He cut Ginny off and threw a savage elbow to her head. Luna screamed in horror. 

**“...COBBING BY CRABBE! ...”** Lee Jordan bellowed.

Harry nearly leapt out of his seat, wand at his fingertips. A chorus of boos erupted from the crowd, but McLaggen guffawed loudly, catching Harry’s attention.

“Bloody no-good cheating git!” Lee Jordan snarled, “As per usual, Slytherin proves that they can’t win with the talent which they don’t have...” McGonagall caught Lee’s eye again.

“...Just telling it like it is Professor...” Lee said assertively. Professor McGonagall really couldn’t bring herself to disagree.

This time Angelina took the penalty shot, but she was so angry that the quaffle went wide off the mark. As the play resumed, George tailed Crabbe. When the bludger came their direction, George pretended to let his Beater’s Bat slip from his hand. It flew from his grasp and hit Crabbe square in the face.

“Do that to my sister again and you’re dead Crabbe!” George whispered venomously when he flew over to the other beater, feigning a look of concern.

There was a brief timeout while Madam Pomfrey fixed Crabbe’s broken nose and wiped the blood off his face. But as nobody could prove that George had done it on purpose, no foul was called.

The game continued for another hour. The Gryffindors matched every brutal foul committed by the Slytherins, confident that Ron would prevent the Snakes from scoring a penalty shot - and every time, Ron proved that their faith was warranted.

The match was still 20 nil to the Gryffindors when Draco spotted the snitch hovering near the stands not more than ten metres below. Draco dove for it. Ginny Weasley was nowhere in sight and he knew the game was won. The match was his, Draco gloated to himself as he reached for the snitch with his real hand.

“Too bad that one’s not prosthetic too,” giggled Ginny as she come out of nowhere and plucked the snitch out of the air. “You might have stood a better chance of catching it...”

Draco gaped at her as an uproarious cheer went up from the stands. He couldn’t comprehend how she had managed to beat him to the snitch. Furiously he tried to grab at the tail of Ginny’s broom with his real hand as she completed passing him. His fingers grabbed air and he lost control of his broom.

Draco panicked and tried to let go of his broom so that he could tumble and roll safely. But the double-strength Gripping Charm on the broom prevented his prosthetic hand from releasing it. The broom spun wildly and flipped end over end as Draco crashed into the field.

When he came to a few seconds later, Draco realised that his prosthetic hand was missing. He spotted his broomstick lying in splinters on the lawn, his prosthetic hand still attached to a piece of the broom handle.

Too angry to speak, Draco stormed off the field as the Gryffindors reveled in their victory. Draco fumed when he passed Ginny, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell hugging each other and gleefully leaping up and down. He caught the eye of Amycus Carrow and the Inquisitor nodded slightly. Draco felt slightly cheered, knowing that soon it would be his time, and then he’d teach those bitches a lesson that they would never forget.

The party in the Gryffindor Common Room after the match continued until dinner time, and all had been invited. Everyone had butterbeers, and flasks of firewhiskey were surreptitiously passed around. The prefects were well aware but pretended to look the other way.

Dora was forced to come to Fleur’s rescue, as a number of the older Gryffindor boys were congregated around Fleur trying to chat her up. Jennifer felt a bit overwhelmed, lost in the crowd. Daphne forged a pathway through the throng to save her and lead her to less populated corner of the common room. Ginny grabbed a hold of Luna to keep her from getting swept away in the horde.

Ginny and Ron were both on the receiving end of intense adulation, and the youngest Weasley son lapped it all up, savouring the acclaim and glory. Ron was thrilled beyond measure when Viktor Krum shook his hand and offered his accolades.

But somehow, even receiving plaudits from his favourite professional Quidditch player didn’t mean quite as much to Ron as the praise he received from Harry. Ron sauntered over to the Potters again, who were chatting with Dean Thomas and Susan Bones, whom Dean had invited to the party.

“Did you see that one save Harry...?” Ron crowed, almost spilling his butterbeer on Seamus. “I thought for sure I was gonna miss it - but then I thought, ‘use the tail,’ so I whipped my broom around...”

“Yeah Ron, that was brilliant!” Harry acknowledged with a smirk. This had to be the fifth time that Ron had recounted that particular save to Harry.

Harry glanced at Hermione, but something had caught her scrutiny and he could see that she was bristling. He peered the same direction, discerning immediately what had raised her ire. McLaggen and Towler were sitting on the edge of the landing above, feet dangling from the balcony. They were both nursing butterbeers and staring at Ginny Weasley who was snogging Luna silly.

McLaggen felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle, suddenly realising that Harry Potter was glowering at him. With a scowl, McLaggen tapped Towler on the shoulder. They both stood up and departed, climbing the stairs to their dormitory.

Eventually, it was time for dinner and everyone giddily made their way to the Great Hall. As the evening meal concluded, the Twins invited the Unaffiliated back to the Gryffindor Common Room for their after-party, but they all politely declined. The Potters turned in early, feeling both exhausted and slightly agitated.

“That was quite a match,” Harry murmured to Hermione as she lay next to him curled under his arm with her head on his shoulder, kneading his bare chest as he gently stroked her tawny coils of hair. “I’m really happy for Ron and Ginny...”

Harry left the “but” unsaid, knowing that Hermione understood; they both sensed the shifting of the currents. Others in the castle may not have noticed the change in atmosphere, but it was something that all of those residing in the Unaffiliated corridor felt keenly. The Potters, Dora and Fleur, and Daphne and Jennifer; all lay awake in their respective quarters feeling unsettled...


	55. The End of the Line: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more explicit version of this chapter is now available in _Moments in Love: The Steamy Version._

Of all the Unaffiliated, Harry’s sense of premonition was perhaps the most finely attuned. He woke with a start the morning following the quidditch match, his heart pounding. Casting his eyes towards the window, he noticed that the cold light of dawn had a wintry hue. Crookshanks yawned and peered at Harry with amber eyes. He climbed onto Harry’s chest where he lay for a few moments and purred as if to tell Harry to go with his gut instincts. Then Crookshanks jumped off and trotted out of the room.

Harry put on his slippers and dressing gown, got out of bed and padded over to the window. Sure enough, a thick blanket of white lay upon the ground and the snow was coming down in heavy flurries. Hermione stirred, reaching out an arm to put around Harry. When she found nobody in the bed beside her she opened her bleary eyes and yawned, spying Harry staring out of the window.

“Mmm... Harry, it’s still early and it’s Sunday. Why don’t you come back to bed!? ... Harry? ... Earth to Harry!”

“Hunh...? Oh, Hermione - you’re awake. Sorry!” 

“Come back to bed Harry. Are you alright?”

“Er... yeah! I’m okay I s’pose. I’m just feeling a bit out of sorts... Something bad is going to happen soon - I just know it! I think we should start getting ready to do a bunk.”

“I agree Harry,” Hermione sighed. Then she gave Harry a naughty smile and pulled her nightie over her head. “But I think we’ve got a bit of time left...”

Harry's brooding look was replaced with a lopsided grin. He couldn’t resist the sight of Hermione undressed. Harry pounced back onto the bed eagerly, tugging off his pyjamas. 

Hermione let out a little gasp of pleasure as Harry trailed his kisses from one end of her to another. She squeaked when she felt the first tremors of ecstasy rippling through her. Harry continued his ministrations without pausing to allow Hermione time to recover. She lost herself again as another wave of bliss swept her away, and the bed rocked with the euphoric rhythms of ardour. 

Harry and Hermione gave themselves over to the maelstrom of passion which swirled around them, the magic crackling and arcing in a dazzling rainbow of colours, shaking the bedroom - both falling into oblivion upon completion. As Hermione came to in Harry’s arms she showered him with little kisses - happy to see him looking more relaxed.

“Thanks Harry! That was nice... I feel much better now.”

“Yeah... me too!” Harry grinned. “I think we both needed that.”

The Potters shared a hot bath before dressing and getting on with their day. An hour and a half later they were in the Room of Requirement for a confab with their friends, making arrangements for any potential set of circumstances. 

“...and so we’ll probably be needing a distraction,” said Harry after laying out the general plan.

“...Distractions are our speciality,” Fred told Harry, grinning. “We’ll have the mayhem ready as ordered Harry...”

“...Just give us the word,” George added cheerily.

“Right then,” said Dora, “As a teacher’s assistant Fleur can stick with you lot through all of your classes. I’ll manage to be around in one form or another and we’ll stay in contact with the mirrors.”

“Excellent!” said Harry, nodding in agreement. “Any of us who are going should stick close together. That could be an issue for you Luna if you’re still coming with us...”

“Of course I’m coming, Harry!” said Luna firmly. “I said I would and I meant it! Just mirror-call me when it’s time... Are you sure you won’t join us Ginny?” 

“I wish I could,” Ginny moaned. “But we can’t risk it with the Trace on me. I’d just give you lot away. Don’t worry Luna, I’ll be fine... really! Percy still seems to like me and I doubt the Carrows will want to risk upsetting him.”

“Okay,” said Harry, “Now what about you Parvati? You’d probably be relatively safe here too. I know you don’t have the Trace on you anymore, but you don’t have to come with us...”

“I’ve made up my mind,” said Parvati, “I’m going with you and Hermione too.”

“And of course Daphne and Jennifer are coming too,” said Hermione. “That just leaves you and Hannah, Neville. You’re both pureblood so you should be safe as long as you keep your head down. Promise me that you and Hannah won’t do anything rash while we’re gone...” 

“Erm... yeah!” said Neville uncertainly. “I promise, Hermione.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, detecting a hint of ambivalence in Neville’s tone. Neville glanced away. Harry shook his head and sighed, hoping that Hannah would keep Neville in line. For all of Neville’s generally mellow nature and rocky self-confidence, Harry knew that Neville had a headstrong streak in him not altogether unlike his own.

**~o0o~**

The Potters were rather surprised when they found Mr Carrow sitting in on Potions Class on Monday with his clipboard. For once Mr Carrow seemed to be relatively satisfied, looking bored if anything, and apparently seeing little to criticise in Snape. Professor Snape appeared as inscrutable as ever, seemingly doing his best to ignore Amycus Carrow.

The atmosphere of the classroom, often heavy with steam and smells, was thick with the almost unbearable clouds of smugness emanating from Draco Malfoy. Harry and Hermione shared a look. Hermione shook her head and they returned their attention to the potion which they were working on.

At the end of the lesson when Malfoy turned in his potion, Snape was forced to acknowledge him. Draco, never particularly good at keeping his thoughts or mood in check at the best of times, could barely contain his glee. Snape’s dark eyes glittered angrily as he watched Draco depart the dungeon classroom, following the Inquisitor.

Professor Snape spied the Potters looking at him with concern, and for a moment they could almost discern him trying to imperceptibly communicate with them. Then Snape’s walls went up and the door to his mind slammed shut.

Silently, Harry turned in the potion which he and Hermione had been working on. He raised his eyebrows questioningly at Snape, but the Potions professor said nothing.

“What do you think that was all about Hermione?” Harry quietly asked her as they left the dungeon, falling slightly behind Daphne, Parvati, and Jennifer. “It seemed like something was up between him and Malfoy.”

“I think you’re right Harry,” Hermione replied with nearly a whisper. “I’m not sure how much longer Snape is going to be teaching Potions. Professor Slughorn may have to fill in after all...”

“Blimey... are you serious?” Harry’s blood ran cold. “I would have thought they were going after Dumbledore first...”

“I think they still are Harry...” Worry crossed Hermione’s features. “This was something else... definitely something to do with Malfoy, like you said. Snape must have read Draco’s mind. There’s no way to know what Snape saw though.”

Harry considered the possibilities and his features darkened. There was only one thing which made any sense him.

“Narcissa Black... Lucius Malfoy is going to try and get revenge on her for leaving him. I just know it! And Snape means to stop him... even if he has to kill him!”

“You might be right Harry...” Hermione bit her lip and peered at Harry thoughtfully, wondering if he’d somehow naturally picked up a bit of Legilimency.

**~o0o~**

As he watched his students leaving the Potions classroom, Severus Snape hoped that the Potters’ latent abilities - which all humans had, even muggles - were enough to pick up at least the gist of the information which he had been trying to convey without tipping off Draco Malfoy or Amycus Carrow that he had gleaned an inkling of what was to come from their minds.

Of the two, Snape suspected that Harry’s natural skill level as a legilimens was more advanced, due to having a modicum of practice given his connection to the now defunct Dark Lord. On the other hand, Mrs Potter’s mind was more focused and disciplined, giving her a clear advantage as a legilimens. 

In any case, that wasn’t what concerned him the most at the moment. Severus swallowed anxiously as he pondered the efficacy of the Protection Charms which warded Narcissa Black’s estate. He reached into his desk for his mirror, briefly considering the irony of using a device based on the ones owned by Sirius Black and James Potter. They had quickly become a ubiquitous item among Order members once Dumbledore had reverse-engineered those belonging to the Marauders.

Snape tapped the mirror, uttering a name, “Filius Flitwick.”

“Ah... Severus, I was hoping to have a chance to speak with you today,” the diminutive Charms Master responded moments later. “I wanted to confer with you regarding the Potters - to be certain that we are all providing them the tools which they will undoubtedly require in the very near future.”

“Quite,” the Potions Master said drily. “Well, you shall have ample opportunity Filius. If you would be so kind as to meet me at Narcissa Black’s Estate after classes today. I wish to appraise and fortify the Protection Charms...”

“Of course,” Filius Flitwick replied without hesitation. “It is imperative that the Order maintain top notch security for our meeting place.”

“It is more than that...” Severus began stiffly. He paused uncomfortably, still unused to discussing things which reflected on his personal feelings with his colleagues, even insofar as he had come to consider some of them friends. “I believe that Madam Black - Narcissa - she is in danger...”

“I see,” Filius regarded Severus’s pained countenance gravely.

When Severus was no longer forthcoming, Filius was certain that the Potions Master was holding back on some information, still too reticent to completely reveal himself. But Filius Flitwick was no intellectual slouch. It was clear enough from Snape’s expression that he intended to personally kill Lucius Malfoy if the opportunity presented itself... and that the Potions Master believed the opportunity to be imminent.

**~o0o~**

Severus Snape awoke with a start. He sensed that it was well after midnight, but he knew immediately that something wasn’t right. At the conclusion of the Quidditch match on Saturday, Severus had been left with a deeply unsettled feeling. But not because the team of the House for which he was the Master had lost the match.

To the contrary, he had felt a measure of satisfaction at the outcome. No, Severus had been disturbed because he had discerned that events were coming to a head. And now... now he sensed that someone else was in the room with him.

“Light!” Severus muttered, and the warm glow of the bedside lamp lit part of the room, casting eerie shadows. A tall figure stepped out of the darkness.

Snape’s eyes widened in recognition of the lanky wizard with long platinum blond hair pointing his wand at him. Wildly, Severus looked around for Narcissa, but she was nowhere to be seen in the bedchamber.

“Looking for someone?” snarled Lucius Malfoy, “My treacherous bitch of a wife perhaps?”

“She is no longer yours,” Severus said coldly as he quelled his disquiet. “Your loss was of your own making...”

“Perhaps so, _old friend,”_ Lucius hissed sarcastically through gritted teeth. “And perhaps I shall make her mine again - if only to show her the true meaning of pain...”

“Where is she?” Severus asked calmly as he stared into Lucius’s glacial blue eyes. “What have you done with her?”

“Oh, nothing yet,” replied Lucius evenly. He tapped his temple with his forefinger. “And don’t bother looking here. You will not find anything without your wand. My defences are strong.”

Severus cursed inwardly. Lucius was correct; Snape could not break through those walls without his wand. But there was something off about Lucius Malfoy’s demeanor.

“You don’t even have her, do you?” Severus raised an eyebrow.

Lucius faltered slightly, wondering if his old friend’s abilities were more prodigious than he had believed. Lucius snorted.

“Heh, she will be mine again soon enough,” sneered the elder Malfoy, “Narcissa cannot evade Warlock Nott and the others for long. And after we find her, I shall... no... _**we**_ shall teach her a lesson that she will never forget, and then... then I shall put an end to her miserable life... and your own as well!”

Severus couldn’t help himself; his nostrils flared and a hiss of anger escaped. If only he had his wand.

“How did you get in?” he asked, stalling for time as he reached out with his mind to locate and retrieve his wand.

“These old manors all have secret passages,” Lucius sneered, “It wasn’t difficult to find an entrance with the right spells at my fingertips. Now get up... slowly...”

Snape sighed. Of course there were hidden tunnels which linked the estate to the outside world, and plausibly one which even Narcissa had never been aware of.

“I suppose you have my wand already,” Severus muttered as he slowly climbed out of bed and pulled on his trousers. “...No doubt hidden in your robes. Quite stealthy of you I must say... How long have you been here?”

“Not long... but long enough,” Lucius smirked. “And nice try, old friend, but you shan’t be overpowering me and reclaiming your wand - I gave it to Cassius to hold onto. Now move... we’re going to take a little walk and we’re going to find my ex-wife!”

At Lucius Malfoy’s wandpoint, Severus silently traipsed through the Manor House from room to room looking for Narcissa, and he dared to hope that she had already escaped. Perhaps she had got up to relieve herself and discovered that her home had been invaded.

“Well, somewhere on the grounds perhaps!” Lucius exclaimed wearily, “No matter... she shall not evade me forever. Come on - outside!”

As the clouds above parted, the cold moonlight cast a pearly glow across the otherwise shadowed estate. The blades of grass felt crisp and frosty under Severus Snape’s bare feet, and the bitter chill of the night air crawled across his shirtless torso, raising goosebumps. Nearly fifteen minutes passed as the pair strolled across the lawn and through the gardens. A rustling sound at the end of a hedgerow caught both of their attentions.

“There you are Mr Malfoy... Sir!” said a pleased looking Snatcher with a shaved head. “We got ‘er... just around the corner. Me an’ Bob an’ your mate, Mr Nott... we caught ‘er tryin’ to get outta the gate not five minutes ago.”

“Very good...” a cruel smirk crept to Lucius Malfoy’s lips, “It would appear that the Minister’s recruitment efforts were not in vain. I must admit I had misgivings about the Minister’s plan to bring you and your... _compatriots_... into the fold.”

“Yeah... I s’pose so,” snorted the hooligan clad in leather jacket, chains, and blue jeans. “Well, not alla us managed ta graduate from ‘ogwarts. But that don’ mean we didn’ learn nuffink... We know enough ta get by and make our way in the world quite comfortably really...”

The three wizards stepped around the corner of the hedge and spied two more wizards holding a witch in a nightgown at wandpoint further down the path.

“Severus,” moaned Narcissa, “I had hoped you might have escaped...”

“And I... you,” sighed the Potions Master as he struggled to maintain control of his breathing and heart-rate.

“Yes... yes, this is all very touching, I must say!” Lucius sneered. “Much more intimate than I have experienced with my dear wife in some years... Well, I think I will enjoy a moment of ‘intimacy’ with you myself before I make our goodbye permanent... Narcissa...

“And no doubt these fine young lads and Cassius would like to join in the fun. Severus, you can watch. But first, Narcissa, perhaps a taste of the punishment which is to follow...”

Severus regarded the Snatcher named Bob, and Nott with a keen eye. There was something about the elder Nott which seemed odd - almost beseeching. Severus peered deeper into Warlock Nott’s unblinking eyes.

Cassius Nott had learned through the Minister that his son had been “captured” by Dumbledore, and been given some measure of reprieve. Pleased that Theodore had taken the opportunity to escape and had been given safe haven at Hogwarts by the headmaster, Cassius knew that his own time to redeem himself had finally arrived. Opening his mind wide, Cassius allowed Snape to see all that he needed to see.

Lucius raised his wand and pointed it at Narcissa. “Crucio...” he incanted, and Narcissa fell to the ground screaming in agony.

Then something happened which Lucius had not anticipated. Cassius flung Snape’s wand into the air and fired a green bolt of lightning from his own wand at the Snatcher beside him. For a very brief moment shock halted Lucius in his tracks. 

In that instant, Severus summoned his wand from midair as the Snatcher named Bob fell dead. Lucius Malfoy recovered himself at the same time, his eyes still on Nott.

 **“TRAITOR!”** roared Lucius, a green arc of magic leaping from the end of his own wand towards Cassius Nott.

Cassius collapsed to the ground. As the light went out in Warlock Nott’s eyes, and his last rattling breath escaped his lips, his final thought was for the safety of his wife and his son.

Enraged, Lucius whirled around to face Severus, but it was already too late. The bald-headed Snatcher beside him already lay dead, and the green lightning from Snape’s wand struck Lucius in the chest.

Severus Snape stood stock still for a moment, hardly believing what had occurred in such a short space of time. His nostrils flared as he felt a swell of satisfaction at ending the life of one who had been present for the murder of Lily Potter. With the Dark Lord, MacNair, and Wormtail dead also, Severus’s eternal beloved was finally avenged in full.

The sound of sobbing brought Snape back from his brief reverie and he was reminded that there was one who still needed him, one whom he had come to care for more deeply than he had thought possible. 

“Narcissa,” he murmured, kneeling down beside her and taking her in his arms.

Severus held the weeping witch to his bare chest as her pain from the Cruciatus Curse ebbed, pressing his lips to her forehead. The night no longer seemed cold as Severus felt Narcissa’s warmth stir near his beating heart. Narcissa was alive and that was all that mattered.

As the world around them faded, Severus lost track of the passage of time. Never had he believed that another could possibly make him feel as Lily had. Severus had thought himself destined to wallow in bitterness and loneliness to the very end of his days.

Severus knew then that somehow, through Lily’s son and her daughter-in-law, he had been given a second chance at living and love - a chance to get it right. He had been given a second opportunity to care about another, and to put their life and their suffering before his own.

Severus had no idea how long he had been holding Narcissa when he felt her wet cheeks and her lips against his. They shared a deep kiss, and when they parted, gazed into each other’s eyes as he brushed the strands of hair from her glistening lashes.

Slowly Severus helped Narcissa to her feet and they turned their attention to the four bodies which lay before them as reality intruded on their interlude. They both regarded the fallen Malfoy coldly, but Severus sensed a stab of regret course through Narcissa.

“Severus, what are we to do? My son...”

“...was quite aware of his father’s designs, I can assure you,” Snape murmured. “I wish it were not so. But when I witnessed the plans of Lucius for you in his mind... I saw nothing but the savage joy of vengeance in Draco’s heart.”

Severus felt Narcissa flinch as she released another sob, and gave her another sorrowful kiss.

“Perhaps... Draco might come around... if he knew his father is dead...” Narcissa said hopefully.

“No doubt he will soon enough,” sighed the Potions Master, “but it shall only further harden his heart.”

With one final look, Snape waved his wand and blankets covered the bodies. “These can wait until morning. We can make a decision after Dumbledore inspects the scene. For now, it would perhaps be best if we returned to bed.”

**~o0o~**

Under the grey skies of dawn five wizards examined the tableau as a sprinkle of rain began to patter on the graveled path beside the hedgerow. Severus conjured an umbrella and held it over Narcissa.

“Never thought scum like Nott had it in him,” snorted Alastor Moody. “Comin’ round like that in the end. Good for him!”

“Indeed!” Dumbledore replied, his voice grave. “For which I am most grateful - Severus and Narcissa might not be standing among us now otherwise.”

“So, what should we do with them Albus?” asked Madam Bones uncomfortably, gesturing towards the dead. “We cannot simply turn their bodies over to the Ministry under current circumstances, nor can we allow Severus to be arrested. And yet...”

“I quite agree Amelia,” Dumbledore nodded, stroking his long white beard which was dampening as the raindrops continued to fall. “It would be most uncivilised to dispose of them without any regard for human decency. For now, perhaps it would be best to simply preserve them in the estate’s mausoleum until such a time as we can arrange for proper burials... if Narcissa would not mind.”

“Of course Albus...” Narcissa quickly agreed. “It would be fitting.”

She swallowed as she regarded her ex-husband’s corpse. As much as she had come to revile him, Narcissa could not forget that at one time - before his eager contributions to the horrors of the first war had come between them - she had grown to love him. And she recalled the hope that had come with the birth of her son, a hope that now seemed broken beyond repair. 

“And my son - Draco - should he be told?” Narcissa raised her eyebrows, a tear trickling down one cheek.

She already knew the answer. Severus had shown her what he had seen in Draco’s mind in her Pensieve before the arrival of Dumbledore. But she still found it difficult to accept in her heart how completely her son had disavowed her. Narcissa had seen the flashes of Draco’s abhorrent imaginings of gleefully participating in her punishment for betraying the Malfoy “Honour,” and the pain cut her to the bone.

“I am afraid we cannot, Narcissa,” sighed the headmaster. “Not without putting us all in great jeopardy. No doubt, the Minister shall presume that Lucius is dead, and shall inform young Draco herself - and I also have no doubt that the Minister will suspect the involvement of someone close to you- most likely Severus.

“In which case, I believe it best if Severus remained with you here, where it is completely safe now that we have determined how Lucius and his companions gained entrance to the estate and sealed it. It would not do for the Carrows to detain Severus and turn him over to the Minister.”

Dumbledore glanced at Snape; the Potions Master sighed, having suspected as much. Still, it was a welcome price to pay for the death of Lucius Malfoy. Severus could not imagine a more gilded cage, to be shared with someone whom he had come to love.

“I understand Headmaster,” Snape remarked resignedly. “But Madam Nott deserves to see what I saw in Warlock Nott’s mind before he sacrificed himself... She needs to know the truth of his passing, and of what his hopes were for his family’s future. I must visit her briefly, and reveal to her what I witnessed in his consciousness. Then I shall come back here and remain with Narcissa.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore agreed. “But I must insist that Alastor and Amelia accompany you to make certain that you are returned safely.”

**~o0o~**

She stirred in several more spoonfuls of sugar, added a dollop of cream, and sipped her third cup of tea as she waited, growing more and more impatient as the morning wore on.

A feeling of doom gnawed in the pit of Minister Dolores Umbridge’s stomach when Lucius and his raiding party had not victoriously returned. Instinctively, the Minister knew something had gone wrong. Her nostrils flared as a spark of rage caught flame. If Lucius or any members of the raiding party had still been alive, at the very least he would have sent the Snatchers back to the Ministry with a message for her. But only one memo had arrived by floo - and it was on a completely unrelated but no less disturbing matter.

The idea of Dolores’s beautiful man laying lifeless somewhere was almost unbearable. It would be far too much to say that she had loved Lucius; she trusted him not at all, and knew that he did not trust her. Such was the nature of those drawn to Power and Control above all else. But Dolores had always liked pretty things, and Lucius had been very pretty indeed... not to mention extremely useful.

They had both shared the same goals after all, and had both been working on Cornelius Fudge, the previous Minister, to turn him against Albus Dumbledore since the day that Harry Potter had first turned up at Hogwarts after having been hidden from the wizard world for ten years. Their partnership had been mutually beneficial in more ways than one... particularly once she had taken Lucius into her home. Lucius had shown his gratitude in a most desirous manner.

And to add to Dolores's distress, it had just been brought to her attention that Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour had surreptitiously reopened Amelia Bones’s investigation into the Minister’s activities. The Minister had no idea who the lead investigator was, but it didn’t matter - the investigation could not stand.

Hands shaking with fury, the Minister began to scribble a memo to the lead Auror of a team that she knew was loyal to her, and her alone, directing him to send investigators to Devon immediately. Dolores couldn’t bring herself to go to her office at the Ministry today. And she could deal with Rufus later; for now the most important thing was discovering what had become of Lucius.

Several hours later Minister Umbridge received a reply which confirmed her suspicions. Madam Black's Devon estate was inaccessible and still clearly in her hands. No bodies had been recovered, but there was no doubt in her mind - Lucius was dead.

But certainly Madam Black could not have managed to overpower two Warlocks and their henchmen on her own. She must have had help. Surely it was too much to suspect that Albus Dumbledore had been involved... but perhaps not. Narcissa Black had turned her back on her husband and son - but had she turned her back on her heritage as well?

There was only one who knew Narcissa Black well enough to answer the Minister’s questions. And she was currently overseeing the establishment of the Unspeakable Office’s largest Secret Installation while still recuperating from a grievous injury sustained during the Battle of Hogwarts.

Burying her anger, the Minister drained her umpteenth cup of tea and flung some sparkling powder into her kitchen hearth. She spoke the name of the secret installation and stepped into the green flames.

**~o0o~**

Draco Malfoy wondered why Snape wasn’t in class today. Instead, that bloated walrus Professor Slughorn was overseeing the lesson.

Malfoy grew anxious, knowing that something was amiss. He had heard nothing from Father or the Minister at breakfast. But they had promised that he could have the day off school to celebrate with his father once the mission to kidnap Mother had been accomplished.

Draco scowled at the Potters as they hovered over the potion they were working on. Whatever had become of his father, he knew they had something to do with it. He was sure of it! Draco’s own potion began to turn a putrid green and boil over.

“Oi... watch it Crabbe!” snapped Draco, flexing his reattached prosthetic hand warningly. “You were supposed to add the rat spleen after the beetle eyes... Now we’ll bloody have to start all over again...”

Hermione frowned and glanced at Malfoy while Harry added the sopophorous beans to their Euphoria Inducing Elixir. They were over halfway through Snape’s Sixth Year Potions Book and Professor Slughorn had asked them to brew up something just for fun as a demonstration of their skills. Harry added the wormwood, stirred the potion counterclockwise six times, and let it simmer. He reckoned that ought to do it. Then he noticed Hermione's distraction.

“You alright Hermione?” whispered Harry.

“It’s Malfoy,” Hermione quietly replied. “Something’s gone wrong... and I don’t think it’s his potion that’s bothering him.”

“Well that’s good then,” said Harry, sounding relieved. “I was worried that something had happened to Snape. But if Malfoy’s worried, that means that his father must have failed when he went after Madam Black, doesn’t it?”

“The thing is Harry, Snape might have killed Lucius Malfoy...”

“Well... yeah! I thought he might if he got a chance - and I know it might sound a bit cold Hermione, but that’s good too! Malfoy was there when Voldemort killed my mum. He was keeping watch outside...”

“He... he was? How do you know?”

“I... I’m not sure really...” Harry puzzled over it for a moment. For some reason he had several clear images in his mind, and he wasn’t sure where they had come from. “I just know that Malfoy, MacNair, and Wormtail were there too. Maybe... maybe when I went back in time to when I was a baby I saw them somehow...”

Hermione peered at Harry uncertainly, then decided to take him at his word.

“Alright! But that’s not what I meant Harry... I think things are about to get very ugly! By this time tomorrow...”

Hermione trailed off and turned to face her husband. She really didn’t know what was going to happen next. Harry could see how scared Hermione was and gave her a hug. Sensing a change of mood, Parvati looked up from the potion she was working on with Lavender and glanced at the Potters.

“It’s alright Hermione,” Harry murmured, “Everyone’s all packed, and ready to make a hasty exit at a moment’s notice. And we both know they won’t make a move on us until they’ve managed to force Dumbledore out. I doubt the Minister will move that quickly - she’s very cautious. We’ve probably still got a day or two at least...”

Harry went quiet when Professor Slughorn approached, beaming broadly.

“Well, what have we here Mr and Mrs Potter?” asked the rotund Professor “My word! It appears to be the Elixir to Induce Euphoria - and a most exceptional one at that. Is that a hint of Peppermint I detect?”

Harry nodded and grinned.

Hermione couldn’t help feeling a bit chuffed, despite everything. Harry was right, there was little point in worrying about Draco and the Carrows while Dumbledore was still headmaster. Curiosity piqued, Daphne and Jennifer both paused to see what was happening.

“Splendid!” continued the impressed Professor Slughorn, “Simply marvelous! Sev... I mean Professor Snape - was absolutely right - a proper pair of potions prodigies you are. I dare say you would have both given Mr Potter’s mother a run for her money...”

**~o0o~**

Dolores Umbridge sat on the other side of the desk, facing the witch she had put in charge of overseeing the new detention centres. She was quite surprised at what she had just heard, to say the least.

“Severus Snape?” said Minister Umbridge, her tone skeptical.

Dolores knew that Snape and the Malfoys had fallen out over the Greengrass incidents - but that was quite understandable given that it had created an unfortunate rift between two of the most highly respected Pureblood families in Britain. Just as it had been equally unfortunate, but quite understandable, that Warlock Greengrass had thrown his support behind Harry Potter for protecting his youngest daughter.

But prior to that, Lucius had always expressed nothing but the highest regards for his old friend, assuring Dolores that Severus Snape had always been dedicated to the Pureblood Agenda, and that he had tricked Albus Dumbledore into supporting him at the end of the first war.

“Severus Snape?” Dolores repeated. “Are you certain of this?”

“Oh yes...” the other witch smirked, “I never trusted Snape. He was far too enamoured of Lily Potter - he asked the Dark Lord to spare her life. But my dear sister... she always had a soft spot for Severus, though she would never admit it. And it was Lucius who kept watch with Walden MacNair when the Dark Lord killed the Potters... If anyone helped Narcissa kill Lucius, it would be Severus.”

“Thank you! Your information is immensely helpful.” The Minister flared her nostrils and pursed her lips. She had been planning to make her play for Hogwarts by the start of the Christmas holidays, but now it seemed that the regrettable demise of Lucius had nonetheless presented her with an opportunity that could not be ignored. With a bit of finesse, the Minister reasoned that she could move her timetable up and take Hogwarts completely by the end of the week.

Dolores turned her attention back to the other witch, and looked her over. Narcissa Black’s sister looked much better than she had the last time the Minister had seen her. Apparently the blood rituals had remarkable healing effects on the injurious dark curse which the witch had sustained. And though Dolores much preferred wizards, she had to admit that the beguiling witch was a vision to behold in her revealing dark-leather outfit.

“I trust you are well,” simpered Dolores, “But if you need anything more from me... anything at all, just ask.”

“Oh thank you Dolores!” purred Bellatrix as she fluttered her eyelashes at the Minister. “But you have done _**so**_ much for me already - the Pardon, the medical assistance, the job as head of this new institution, the underlings, the use of these delightful facilities, and the screams of the mudbloods you have provided for my amusement thus far.

“I knew you were a dedicated Slytherin Dolores, but I confess, I had no idea that we had so many pleasures in common. I cannot wait for the next phase of your campaign to go into effect and this detention centre becomes fully operational...”

**~o0o~**

The praises of Professor Slughorn and Harry’s reassurances had made her feel a bit better for awhile, but Hermione’s trepidation continued to grow throughout the day. The Professors all appeared to be on high alert. Fleur and Dora joined the younger members of the Unaffiliated for lunch and they took it outside to eat in the courtyard despite the light sprinkling of snow.

“Dumbledore pulled us both aside towards the end of last period and told us that Lucius Malfoy was killed by Snape last night when ‘e tried to storm Narcissa Black’s house,” Dora said quietly as she glanced around to make sure nobody was listening nearby.

“So it did happen then; I knew it...” Hermione gasped, quivering with agitation. Her words tumbled out one after the other in a rush as she tried to explain.

“Harry knew it I mean... Harry said Mr Malfoy might have a go at Narcissa Black after Snape gave us a look in Potions. He said that Snape might do anything to protect her - I wasn’t certain, but what Harry said seemed logical - and then this morning I knew Harry was right - I don’t think Draco knows for certain yet though. He just seemed very worried in Potions, and Snape was gone, and I just put 2 and 2 together...” Hermione finally paused to take a breath.

“Ze Headmaster told us to let you know... and we are to try an’ remain with you as much as possible when classes are not in session,” Fleur murmured. “‘E is not certain, but ‘e believes that ze Minister may escalate ‘er investigation very soon.”

“Good,” Harry replied, nodding. “Now we know for sure that Snape killed Mr Malfoy. If the Minister suspects Snape was involved, it’s only a matter of time before she tries to have Dumbledore arrested as a co-conspirator...”

As the Potters continued their day, they also received special attention from both McGonagall and Flitwick, who fussed over them and appeared quite concerned to be sure that Harry and Hermione were both prepared for any eventuality. 

By the end of the day, Hermione was in a high state of anxiety. Harry noticed that despite her best efforts to remain calm, Hermione kept picking at her food and glancing at Draco and the Carrows all through dinner.

There was little outward indication at breakfast the following morning that something significant had altered in the British Wizard World or at Hogwarts. Though nothing yet was being mentioned on the morning news report, Hermione and Harry both picked up on the clear signals from the mood of the Inquisitors and the Professors that Lucius Malfoy’s death had triggered the imminence of a substantial shift in power at Hogwarts. 

The lack of Draco Malfoy’s presence was hardly unexpected, but it was still unnerving.

“I wonder what he’s up to,” Harry muttered. 

“He’s probably just upset, Harry,” Hermione mused, unable to help feeling badly for Draco, despite everything horrible he and his father had done. She had to remind herself that Draco had tried to kill them both after violently assaulting Astoria, but she still felt too nauseous to eat.

**~o0o~**

Draco Malfoy whipped out his wand again.

“Avada Kedavra,” he uttered malevolently for the hundredth time; a bolt of green lightning emerged from the tip of his wand and turned one of the stone busts he was aiming at into rubble.

Draco nodded in satisfaction. His aim and speed were improving. But the satisfaction wasn’t enough to quell his rage - and he knew that he would have to be much faster and aim better to kill Potter. The last time Draco had tried to kill Potter had been a debacle, and he had no desire to lose another hand.

The Carrows had delivered him the message of his father’s presumed death yesterday afternoon. Draco’s world was collapsing around him. His father was dead, and he didn’t care that “Aunt Dolores” had placed the blame squarely on Professor Snape. Draco knew that it was Potter and the Mudblood’s fault... oh, and Greengrass’s too of course; somehow they had turned his mother and Snape against Draco and his father.

When the Inquisitors finally took Hogwarts, Draco would have his vengeance. The Carrows had promised him that much. They had approved time off from regular classes to continue his practice with the Unforgivable Curses so that Draco would be ready to take his place as their deputy, and to wield the power necessary for achieving his goals.

He was going to torture and rape the Mudblood in front of Potter and then he was going to kill them both - after they had given up the details to the Carrows regarding the Secret Weapon they had used to destroy the Dark Lord’s Army.

By the end of classes, after discharging much of his rage practicing against moving targets, Draco was feeling much better about things. And the benefits of his father’s demise began to seem more apparent. Draco was the heir to his father’s fortune after all, and he no longer had the burden of trying to live up to his father’s academic expectations. 

Hogwarts really didn’t matter anymore, except as a stepping stone to bigger and better things which were now within his grasp. Aunt Dolores and the Carrows were encouraging and preparing him to take up the mantle of Warlock, a position which Draco would have likely had to wait decades for before his father’s premature death. 

In fact, the more Draco thought about it, the more this seemed like an opportunity to celebrate rather than a misfortune. And if anyone did anything which he didn’t like, he could threaten them with the Minister or the Inquisitors. 

Much to Draco’s delight since returning to Hogwarts with the Inquisitors, he had recently discovered his new threats to be a far more effective refrain than, “wait till my father hears about this.” Instead of rolling eyes and snorts of derision, Draco’s warnings finally brought the level of obsequious respect that a Malfoy deserved.

Draco almost felt giddy with power. When the Minister made her announcement on Friday, Hogwarts was as good as his, and everyone who had ever disrespected him, or stolen what rightfully belonged to him, would pay in spades.

**~o0o~**

The sun had woken up on Friday morning, but had apparently decided to drink a cup of hot cocoa and go back to bed upon seeing the cold grey skies of an early winter below. One could barely make out its presence through the dark churning clouds and the blizzard conditions. The wind howled as squalls of snow whipped around the castle.

Glad for the comforting warmth of his fire at this early hour, Albus Dumbledore sighed as he squeezed some lemon into his tea and mentally prepared himself for what was certain to be a day as tumultuous as the weather outside.

Fortunately, Auror Mulligan continued to be a valuable asset to the Order, and the advance notice had allowed the Order and the Unafilliated to make provisions and back-up plans for any number of possible occurrences. Fawkes uttered a soft musical note indicating the arrival of unwelcome guests.

“Thank you Fawkes!” said the headmaster, quickly draining his cup of tea. “Phineas... it is time - the Aurors and Unspeakables are here for me. Remember your promise...”

“Yes, yes... of course...” the portrait of Phineas Nigellus replied in his most weary put-upon tone, “Provide the Potters with whatever assistance they require... look after all the students of Hogwarts to the best of my abilities...etc, etc...”

“Very good Phineas,” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled and there was a knock on his door. “You may enter.”

Professor McGonagall opened the door, her features distraught.

“Headmaster, you have some... ahem... _visitors_...” she said with a strong hint of disdain.

“Indeed!” Dumbledore gave the Professor a stern look. “Remember Minerva - Hogwarts needs you!”

“Thank you _most_ kindly Minerva,” said Senior Undersecretary Percy Weasley, who looked positively gleeful. He pushed past Minerva McGonagall followed by several Aurors and a dozen Unspeakables.

“And what may I do for you this fine morning, Senior Undersecretary Weasley?” the headmaster asked sprightly, his eyes twinkling merrily as Fawkes flew from his perch and settled on Dumbledore’s arm.

“Not even breakfast time yet - but here you are, bright and early. Would you like some tea?” Dumbledore politely offered, stroking Fawkes’ carmine and gold feathers.

Percy Weasley was slightly taken aback by Dumbledore’s cheerful demeanor, but he chalked it up to the headmaster’s deviousness and encroaching senility.

“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore...” began the youngest Senior Undersecretary in Wizarding Britain’s history, in the most pompous and authoritative voice he could muster.

“...By order of the Minister, and by Law, I hereby place you under arrest for the crimes of Abetting in the Murder of Warlock Lucius Malfoy, Harbouring the Murderer of Warlock Lucius Malfoy, Treason and Sedition, Conspiracy to commit Treason, the Illegal Manufacture of Experimental Weapons, Corruption of the Innocent, Illegal Use of School Property for Private Gain, and various and sundry other crimes and misdemeanors.

“Now, if you would be so kind as to follow these gentlemen, they shall escort you to the Ministry where you will be formally charged, and then to a High Security Facility where you shall await trial...”

Percy faltered when he heard Dumbledore softly chuckling. Perhaps the Old Coot was madder than he had suspected.

“You find this amusing?” Percy frowned.

“My dear boy,” Dumbledore responded in a slightly patronizing, sarcastic manner, “you and these fine upstanding officials with you, appear to be operating under the delusion that I am going to ‘come quietly’ as the muggles say... I can assure you, I intend nothing of the sort...

“Indeed, my only aim is to expose the treasonous crimes of Minister Umbridge herself: political assassination, attempted assassination, colluding with muggle officials to commit treason, use of public finances for private political gain, bribery, corruption of Wizengamot and Ministry officials, illegal manipulation of the media for purposes of propaganda, corruption of the young and foolish...”

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly at Percy Weasley whose face began to redden.

“Furthermore,” continued Dumbledore, “I am quite certain that the Minister and those under her command are committing many more crimes, such as the torture and murder of muggleborn - particularly given her collusion with known Terrorists... two of which have taken up residence in this very school. I must say Mr Weasley, I am very disappointed in you!”

Percy began to turn purple, knowing full well that the Minister had been recruiting Voldemort’s Death Eaters and Snatchers to round up and suppress the muggleborn insurgents who were intent on overthrowing the Ministry. The Unspeakables began to look at each other uncomfortably, wondering who among them might be a mole working for Dumbledore.

“Now look here Dumbledore...” Percy barked in outrage. “The Carrows were never proved guilty in a court of law...”

“In any case,” Dumbledore said loudly, cutting Percy off, “I can hardly affect the restoration of a legitimate and fully accountable political leadership to the Ministry from prison can I? So my dear boy, for now - as my dear friend Madame Maxime might say - I bid you adieu!”

Upon Dumbledore's final word, Fawkes flared as brightly as the sun and Dumbledore was gone in a dazzling blaze of light. 

Professor McGonagall tried to hide a smirk at the flabbergasted expressions on the faces of the crowd in Dumbledore’s office as everyone recovered from their temporary blindness. Minerva caught the eye of the portrait of Phineas Nigellus who gave her a sardonic wink as Senior Undersecretary Weasley stormed out of Dumbledore’s office with the Unspeakables and Aurors in tow...


	56. The End of the Line: Part 2

Something had obviously happened. A hum of nervous curiosity and bewilderment rose in the Great Hall as it filled with hungry students at breakfast time. As the Potters and their friends took seats at the Mingling Table, snatches of conversation could be heard.

“What’s going on?”

“Dunno...”

“Why are _those_ two sitting there?”

“Where’s Dumbledore?”

Harry swallowed anxiously and gave Hermione’s hand a comforting squeeze as they eyed the smug countenances of the two Inquisitors. The Carrows were seated opposite the Potters in the centre of the Staff Table, looking for all the world like a king and queen waiting for their coronation to begin.

A quick look around the Hall also revealed the presence of wizards with insignia on their robes which Harry didn’t recognise.

“Those are Unspeakables,” Dora whispered, seeing Harry’s puzzled expression. Hermione bit her lip to stifle a sob; a tear escaped and rolled down one cheek.

“You alright Hermione?” Harry asked, giving her hand another gentle squeeze. She nodded forlornly.

“I will be Harry. We knew this was coming at any moment - that eventually they’d oust Dumbledore. I... I just... now that it’s actually happening...” Hermione trailed off, unable to say any more.

Harry glanced around the table at the rest of the Unaffiliated and their friends; their expressions ran the gamut from apprehension to anger. Fleur’s natural radiance had lost its usual lustre and Daphne’s gaze was frosty. Dora’s countenance was stony and she narrowed her eyes when she spotted Malfoy ogling the Unaffiliated and chortling with unabashed glee.

Jennifer was miserable. She had grown more comfortable being among the many other students at Hogwarts since the beginning of the term, and had enjoyed herself despite everything; she didn’t want to leave. 

“Well, looks like this is it,” said Harry quietly. “We’ll be alright - just try to stay together everyone, and we’ll jump ship at the earliest opportunity... If anyone gets separated, just get back to our Corridor and stay there until we meet up. Nobody else can get in there except for us...”

Harry was interrupted by the swell of music which heralded the morning news. The ever dapper William O’Hannity began the programme with his usual gratingly pontifical manner, but in place of his usual co-host Endora was someone that everyone recognised all too well.

“Thank you for that _very_ kind introduction William,” said the pink clad toad-like woman in a breathy girlish voice. Her tone dropped a notch and hardened as she continued.

“I am afraid I have some very grave news from the Ministry this morning. I felt that given the nature of this dire circumstance, it was imperative that I myself be the one to impart the information in the spirit of Ministry openness and transparency...

“As you are no doubt aware, the DMLE and the Unspeakable Office have been investigating the events which occurred at Hogwarts shortly before the end of summer. What you may not know, is that the Ministry has also been investigating the recent death of one of Britain’s most esteemed Warlocks, Lucius Malfoy...”

“NO!” gasped O’Hannity with well-rehearsed sincerity. “Warlock Malfoy is dead? How dreadful...”

“Yes, it is a great loss to Wizarding Britain,” continued the Minister. “But his death was no accident - it was murder most foul. And the subsequent investigation revealed that it was inextricably linked to the events at Hogwarts. I cannot reveal everything due to the sensitive nature of the ongoing investigations, but I can say that the principal suspect is none other than the Potions Master of Hogwarts, Severus Snape...”

The well-coiffed O’Hannity gasped again and the Minister went on.

“The link became clear when it was discovered by Aurors loyal to the Ministry that the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, was interfering with the investigation of Warlock Malfoy’s murder.

“As it turns out - shockingly - Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour has been working for Albus Dumbledore all along, and has been sabotaging both the investigation of Lucius Malfoy’s murder, and the investigation into Headmaster Dumbledore’s long-running blood-feud with the misunderstood misanthrope we have all come to know as ‘You-Know-Who’...

“It became necessary to have the Unspeakable Office conduct an Independent Investigation to sort out all of the facts. Rufus Scrimgeour was placed under arrest late Thursday, and the Unspeakable Office has since determined that the former Head of the Auror Office was covering up Albus Dumbledore’s affiliation with notorious wand-thief, and muggleborn insurrectionist, Dick Turpentine.

“The evidence is now quite clear - Albus Dumbledore, long known for his disregard for our most noble and ancient wizarding traditions and genetic heritage, has for many years been surreptitiously plotting the overthrow of the Ministry and illegally training muggles how to use wands in order to raise his own army.

“This very morning, Albus Dumbledore fled Hogwarts when Aurors loyal to the Ministry, and Unspeakables, were dispatched to apprehend him... There are many questions which remain of course - while the Violent Revolutionary Albus Dumbledore and his minion Severus Snape remain at large - and a purge is being conducted within the Ministry to uproot any more of Dumbledore’s spies.

“Meanwhile, the investigation continues at Hogwarts, this time with the full participation of the Unspeakable Office. The Inquisitors previously dispatched have agreed to assume the role of Headmaster and Headmistress until such a time as Hogwarts has been thoroughly cleansed of Albus Dumbledore’s contamination...”

William O’Hannity had been silent, rapt with attention until the Minister appeared to have concluded her statement. He took the opportunity to press for more information.

“Well, that is some shocking news indeed Minister Umbridge! Is there anything more that you can tell us?”

“I am afraid that is all I can impart at this time William,” the Minister responded, with a return to her initial saccharine tones. “When Albus Dumbledore is in the Ministry’s custody, and more of his agents have been apprehended, then we shall perhaps have a better understanding of how far this conspiracy reaches... The Ministry shall of course update the public regularly as more information becomes available.”

Silence settled over the Great Hall. Nothing could be heard except for a few nervous coughs and a few sniggers from the Slytherin table. Students glanced at each other anxiously and peered up at the enormous Wiz-Vision screen which now displayed two new educational decrees:

**Educational Decree #26  
Inquisitors Alecto Carrow and Amycus Carrow have accepted the position of Headmaster and Headmistress of Hogwarts and are to be accorded the full authority and all the rights and privileges thereof.**

**Educational Decree #27  
Students who wish to become members of the Inquisitorial Squad are to make themselves known to the new Heads of Hogwarts, and will be chosen according to a strict set of standards.  
The Inquisitorial Squad are to be accorded full authority as deputies of the new Headmaster and Headmistress. The inquiries and commands of said deputies are to be obeyed as if issued by the Headmaster or Headmistress themselves.**

The Potters picked at their food. Harry tried to eat a piece of bacon, but nobody could really eat breakfast after that. They waited until the rest of the students had finished and joined the throng departing the Great Hall and heading for classes. Something caught Parvati’s eye.

“Do you see the badge on Malfoy’s robes? looks like they’ve already picked out members of the Inquisitorial Squads!” Parvati muttered furiously. 

“Maybe we should just leave right now - before anything happens,” Harry said worriedly. 

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. “I think that’s a good idea Harry...”

“We can’t just yet...” Dora pointed at the Unspeakables patrolling the corridors, “...we’re bein’ watched to make sure we go to class. We’ll ‘ave to wait till lunchtime. We’ll make a break for it then.”

“I think ees best that we both go wiz you to classes,” Fleur remarked. “I know Dora ees supposed to be seventh year student now, but per’aps she could be ‘teacher’s assistant’ again until we leave.”

“Er... yeah! Alright...” Harry agreed. “We don’t have Alecto Carrow’s class today, so that should work.”

“Luna, maybe you should skip classes,” said Hermione. “Wait for us in the Unaffiliated Common Room. We’ll get there as soon as we can.” 

“Okay Hermione,” said Luna. “I’ll slip away right now then...” Luna gave Ginny a hug goodbye before merging into the crowd heading for classes on the floor on which the Unaffiliated corridor was located. Ginny sadly watched Luna go, then headed towards the group of fourth year Gryffindors headed for Charms.

Harry sighed as he and the rest made their way to Potions. This wasn’t good. Even with Dora and Fleur tagging along, he was loathe to go to Potions and risk being trapped in the dungeons. He had considered the possibility that the Carrows might bring in Enforcers from the Ministry, but there seemed to be far more than he had anticipated.

There was little choice though for the time being, so to Potions they all went. Harry was extremely thankful that the Professors were already prepared to acknowledge Fleur and Dora as ‘Teacher’s Assistants.’

“I’ve been thinking about that Dick Turpentine business Harry,” Hermione whispered as they trotted through the stone corridors. “I don’t think it can be real... it’s all too convenient.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Harry replied quietly. “It doesn’t make any sense. Everyone knows you have to already have magic to use a wand... it’s just rubbish!”

“Of course! But that’s not what I meant Harry. The name Dick Turpentine - doesn’t it ring a bell?”

Harry shook his head. “I dunno... should it?”

“It sounds to me like a takeoff based on Dick Turpin,” said Hermione. “He was a Muggle Highwayman in the 18th century who was hung as a horse-thief. But people made up stories, and even a television show about him later which made him out to be more of a rebel against the government... more or less a Robin Hood figure. But what if...”

“...the Minister got the idea from the Muggle PM!” Harry gasped as a chill ran down his spine. “You’re right Hermione - that has to be it. Umbridge concocted the whole story as an excuse to go after Dumbledore and round up Muggleborns...”

“...and to go after you Harry. She’s been making you out to be a sort of dangerous rebel on the side of muggleborn wizards all along!”

**~o0o~**

Potions seemed to go relatively smoothly. Professor Slughorn had accepted Dora and Fleur as his “Teacher’s Assistants” without any question, and Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere to be seen. Harry presumed that they had been given the freedom to do whatever they liked as members of the Inquisitorial Squad.

Harry knew the illusion of relative safety wouldn’t last long though, and he refused to let it lull him into a false sense of security. If Malfoy was going to try anything, he suspected it would be here in the dungeons.

When class let out, Harry’s worst fears were realised when he heard Draco Malfoy laughing. He peered down the passage, and spotted Malfoy dragging a screaming Ginny Weasley deeper into the tunnels. 

“Bloody Fucking Hell!” Harry swore. He grabbed Hermione’s arm and they both took off running after Malfoy and Ginny.

The rest of the Unaffiliated and Parvati chased after the Potters. Dora had fallen a bit behind as she had stopped to pick up everyone’s bookbags which they had dropped when they took pursuit.

“This is probably a trap!” gasped Harry as they turned down the passageway they had last seen Malfoy and Ginny go down.

“Of course it is...” Hermione wheezed, her bushy hair billowing behind her as they ran. “But we can’t do nothing... Ginny’s our friend! This way...” Hermione pointed down a dungeon corridor at the next four-way junction.

Parvati and Jennifer caught up to the Potters first, and spells hit the four of them from out of the shadows. Two Unspeakables emerged from the darkness pointing their wands at Fleur and Daphne.

Daphne and Fleur had their own wands at the ready, but Amycus Carrow stepped out from one of the tunnels behind them.

“Just hold it right there girls...” Headmaster Carrow growled. “Just put your wands away nice and easy like - and there won’t be any more trouble for you. It’s the Potters we want... but I’m perfectly willing to have one of these here gentlemen kill one o’ your other little friends right now if you don’t behave - at the moment, they’re all just in a Bewitched Sleep.”

Fleur and Daphne glared at the new headmaster, and weighed the risks. They spotted Crabbe and Goyle approaching with Malfoy and realised that they were outnumbered three to one.

“What about Ginny Weasley?” Daphne asked the new Headmaster bluntly. “What have you done with her? The Senior Undersecretary won't be very pleased if you hurt his sister.”

“Heh! Just another Slytherin polyjuiced to look like her,” Headmaster Carrow snorted mirthfully. “Anyway, that’s quite enough blabbing outta you.”

The new headmaster pointed his fingers at the Unspeakables. “You go keep an eye out - make sure no more students come down this way. Me and the lads here will take care of this lot.”

The Unspeakables nodded and jogged down the passageway the Unaffiliated had just come through. Draco chortled at the slumbering captives as Headmaster Carrow, Crabbe, and Goyle, placed the Potters, Parvati, and Jennifer in a warded dungeon cell, relieving them of their wands.

“Nice work Draco...” Headmaster Carrow patted Malfoy on the shoulder. “You led them right into our trap. Be here tomorrow morning at 9 sharp... we’ll wake ‘em and you can assist with the interrogation.”

“What about them?” asked Draco, jerking his head towards Daphne and Fleur. “And the other girl... the one who gave us the slip!”

“Heh! The Minister says hands-off those two...” the new headmaster smirked, noticing Draco’s leering features. “The Minister doesn’t want a bloody war with France, and if Warlock Greengrass hears that you’ve been messing with his other daughter again, he could still cause us a bit of trouble in the Wizengamot - so don’ even think about it.”

Draco’s face fell; he’d hoped to have another crack at Daphne, and the French girl was extremely alluring. Amycus Carrow shook his head and chuckled, understanding all too well the needs of a teenage Slytherin.

“Don’t worry about the other one, whoever she is - another Mudblood we think. We’re still lookin' into her records. But she won’t be able to hide forever - you and your mates can have a go at her if you find her... or any other Mudbloods in Hogwarts, or the bints in Gryffindor - there’s not a one from any family anyone important cares about in Gryffindor.”

Draco’s features perked up again at that piece of good news.

“Anyway, I think they’ll all behave if they don’t want one of their friends to wake up dead tomorrow!” snorted the new headmaster. He turned to address Fleur and Daphne.

“And don’t bother alerting any staff-members lassies. They’re all being watched by Unspeakables. I’m not joking about killing your other little friends. Except for the Potters, they’re all expendable. You got me girls?” Amycus concluded with a bark.

Daphne and Fleur glanced at each other swallowing anxiously, then nodded and turned to leave, passing an Unspeakable who had just entered the dungeon corridor. Headmaster Carrow spotted the Unspeakable and handed him the wands he had collected from those in the cell.

“Here, go lock these up in the staff-room Safe. We’ll be examining them tomorrow.”

The Unspeakable looked a bit surprised, but he nodded and turned back the way he had come, passing another Unspeakable who had arrived to take the first watch over the prisoners.

“Right then,” Headmaster Carrow addressed Draco again. “Why don’t you and your mates go have some fun - you’ve earned it.”

**~o0o~**

“Oi... Ginny,” yelled Dean Thomas when he saw her at lunch. “How’d you get away from Malfoy.”

“What?”

“I saw him drag you into the dungeons earlier...” said Dean, frowning in puzzlement. “After Potions... Neville and Ron and Seamus had already left. Lavender and I were the last ones in the corridor. Harry and Hermione and Parvati and some of the others ran to save you. Lavender and I would’ve helped, but a couple of those Fascist Ministry blokes forced us away...”

“I was never in the dungeons this morning... I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The blood from Ginny’s face drained when the implications of Dean’s bizarre pronouncement suddenly hit her.

“Wait, Harry and the others ran after me? _**Where are they then?”**_ Ginny yelled. “Why aren’t you doing something about it?”

“I dunno really... I suppose they’re still in the dungeons.” Dean looked crestfallen. “I’m not sure what to do though. These bloody Unspeakables seem to be everywhere.”

 **“Gah!”** Ginny exploded as the blood rushed back into her face. “Fred and George will know what to do, have you seen them? What about Neville? Does _anyone_ know what’s happening?”

“I’m not sure really,” Dean shrank back; he’d never seen Ginny this angry. “I told Neville the first moment I got a chance just a few minutes ago, and then he started talking to the Twins but they all took off. They might have gone back to the Common Room...”

The last thing Dean saw was the back of Ginny’s red hair as she bolted.

Ginny ran back to Gryffindor Tower to find Neville and the Twins to see if anyone knew what was going on. As she flew by an open classroom door, strong hands grabbed her arms from behind and dragged her inside. Her wand slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor as someone else slammed the door shut.

She struggled furiously, and glared at McLaggen, assuming correctly that Towler was the one holding her arms.

“You bastards... Let me go!” Ginny shrieked, aiming a kick between McLaggen’s legs which missed its mark. McLaggen slapped her across the face and grabbed her jaw.

“Or what, you little slag?” McLaggen jutted his chin and pointed at the Inquisitorial Squad badge on his robes, towering over Ginny. Her eyes widened in alarm. “Malfoy isn’t the only one with one of these. Scream all you like, there’s a silencing charm on the room. No Dumbledore - and no Potters to protect you now...

“You’re a little minx in heat, aren’t you?” McLaggen leered as he let go of Ginny’s jaw. “You and your loony little girlfriend - going at it like bunnies all the time. Not surprising you two gave up on blokes really. You both had such pathetic excuses for boyfriends! That Fairy Longbottom and Thomas the Impotent? Really? ... I reckon you just needed a real man to show you a good time...”

Ginny’s heart thudded against the wall of her chest when Cormac began to unbuckle his belt and Towler sniffed her hair. McLaggen and Towler were both much bigger than her, but Ginny put that out of her head as she tried to control her breathing and remember her training.

She tightened her jaw and neck muscles as she forced herself to watch McLaggen unzip his trousers and expose himself, waiting for him to get closer again. When his hand slipped between her thighs and pushed up her skirt, Ginny reacted.

Forcefully, Ginny drove her knee into McLaggen’s groin and slammed the back of her head into Towler’s nose, feeling it shatter against her skull.

Towler stumbled backwards with a scream, releasing Ginny. McLaggen doubled over, groaning. Ginny silently summoned her wand from near the classroom door and circled to McLaggen’s side as he let go of his aching manhood and stood upright.

“You fucking bint!” he snarled, fumbling in his robes for his wand, not realising that Ginny had already retrieved hers. “I’m going to make you regret that...”

“No, I don’t think you will,” Ginny said evenly as she slashed her wand.

It took McLaggen a moment to realise what had just happened, then he peered in horror at the pallid fleshy thing lying on the floor as blood gushed from between his legs. Cormac fainted and collapsed.

Towler eyed Ginny in terror as he held one hand over his bloody face, pointing his wand at Ginny with his other shaking hand. Ginny glared ferociously at Towler and he dropped his wand, thinking better of it.

“You two really are a pair of idiots!” Ginny muttered as she picked up Towler’s wand and snapped it in two, surprising herself with her calmness. “Did you both really think I didn’t learn a few things from Harry and Hermione about how to deal with creeps like you? ... You might want to get McLaggen some help before he bleeds to death.”

Squeamishly, Ginny searched McLaggen until she found his wand and broke it in half as well. Then she turned on her heel and stalked out of the classroom without looking back. Ginny hadn’t got more than one corridor away before she started feeling really guilty. She wondered if she should go back or get help when she heard someone call her name. Ginny whirled around, wand in hand, and breathed a sigh of relief to see Daphne and Fleur.

“What’s going on?” Ginny anxiously inquired. “I heard that Malfoy’s gang captured you lot and turned you over to the Carrows. Where’s Harry and Hermione and the rest of you?”

“Zat can wait a moment...” Fleur worriedly began as she took Ginny’s arms and turned her around.

“There’s blood all over your shoulders and the back of your head...” Daphne squeaked.

“Don’t worry, it’s not mine,” Ginny grinned, but then she looked guilty again as the sight of all that blood reasserted itself in her mind. “That oaf McLaggen and his friend Towler... they just tried to rape me.”

Daphne clasped her hands to her mouth and squealed. Ginny ignored her and continued speaking with a horrified look on her face; the shock of what she had done began to set in and she began shivering violently.

“I... I s...suppose they thought that with Dumbledore and Harry out of the way... it was their ch...ch...chance, but I got them both g...good - they’re bleeding all over the place. I used the curse Harry taught us... I c...cut off McLaggen’s... er... thingy! But... but now I’m r...really worried. I d...don’t really want him to die...”

Ginny faltered when she saw the look on Fleur’s face. The older girl looked angrier than Ginny had ever seen her, and Daphne looked like she was about to throw up.

“Eet would serve ‘im right eef ‘e did,” Fleur fumed, her accent thickening with emotion. “But quick - to ze ‘ospital wing wiz you... you are not looking so good! Daphne... I am too angry to spik properly - call zomeone...”

Daphne reached into her robes for her mirror and called Professor McGonagall as the three of them ran to the infirmary. They burst through the hospital wing doors, startling Madam Pomfrey.

“Good heavens! Miss Weasley,” she gasped, “...there’s blood all over you!”

Ginny was too distraught to answer, and Fleur still too angry. Daphne told Madam Pomfrey what had happened while the nurse tipped a calming draught into the trembling girl’s mouth. McGonagall and Flitwick arrived moments later and locked the door behind them. Ginny, Fleur, and Daphne wondered where McLaggen and Towler were until Flitwick undid the Disillusionment and Levitation charms, lowering the two wounded and unconscious boys onto beds.

“Too many Unspeakables around,” Flitwick explained. “The less they know about this the better...”

“Am I in trouble?” Ginny wailed, still shaking. “I... I d...don’t really want McLaggen to d...die! It... it’s just... McLaggen already tried to rape me once before... last year on the Hogwarts grounds...” 

Fleur gasped in horror.

“He _**what?**_ ... But you never said anything...” Daphne was appalled - this was the first she’d heard of it. “Why didn’t you tell anyone before, Ginny?” 

“I... I’m not s...sure really. I d...didn’t even tell Luna,” said Ginny, looking ashamed of herself. “McLaggen s...stopped when some other s...students walked by... and I ran away. And... and then he left me alone after Harry told him off for s...spying on me and Luna while we were snogging.”

“I j...just didn’t want him to have another chance to d...do it again...” Ginny sobbed 

“Of course you’re not in trouble dear,” Madam Pomfrey replied as she poured another calming draught down Ginny’s throat.

“You did what you had to do to protect yourself,” McGonagall said hoarsely, looking as white as a ghost.

“I have managed to stem the bleeding,” Flitwick reported. “The boy will certainly live, so no worries in that regard. But if I’m not mistaken, Miss Weasley used Severus’s curse. We won’t be able to reattach McLaggen’s... er... _part_. He shall have to be removed to St Mungo’s for long-term recuperation.

“And I’ve already modified their memories. As far as either of them know, they got into a violent altercation with each other over a girl, and injured one another - Miss Weasley will not be implicated.”

“Very Good... that’s good then! Thank you Filius!” Professor McGonagall breathed a heavy sigh of relief, as did Ginny. “Perhaps you should stay in the hospital wing overnight Miss Weasley.”

“NO!” said Ginny fiercely. “I’m fine now. The calming draughts helped... I can deal with the rest. I just didn’t want McLaggen to die...”

“But dear, I must insist...” Madam Pomfrey began.

“I’ll get over it!” snapped Ginny. “My friends are more important right now! Draco and the Carrows... they’ve got Harry and Hermione and Parvati and Jen...”

“So it’s true? It’s not just rumours?” gasped Flitwick. Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows at Daphne and Fleur who both nodded miserably.

“We’re not supposed to tell you,” said Daphne in a small voice. “They said they might kill Jennifer or Parvati if we make trouble, or if any of the Professors interfere.”

“But we must get zem out tonight...” Fleur said firmly. “Ze Carrows and that hideous Malfoy boy mean to torture and interrogate them tomorrow... ”

There was a loud knocking on the hospital wing door and everyone gave a start of fright.

“It’s me...” a voice called through the door, “...Dora. Are Daphne and Fleur in there?”

Madam Pomfrey let Dora in and locked the door again behind her.

“Oh thank goodness... you two _**are**_ here! I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you,” said Dora with obvious relief before glancing at everyone else. Her eyes popped when she saw Ginny on a hospital bed. “Ginny... you alright? What happened t’you?”

“Er...” Ginny wasn’t sure that she felt up to recounting things again. Daphne took it upon herself once more to explain Ginny’s predicament. Dora gaped in horror and spun around, finally noticing the two boys in beds on the other side of the ward.

“Bloody ‘ell!” she muttered, “It’s like a bloody epidemic! They must have some sorta rapist club here at Hogwarts.”

“I’m alright now,” said Ginny. “So what’s going on?” 

“Right then, did Daphne and Fleur tell you lot what ‘appened?” asked Dora. They all nodded and Dora continued.

“Listen, I’ve got a plan to break ‘em outta the dungeon, and I know Harry and Hermione have already worked out an escape route. But you Professors will have to stay out of it if you want to stay at Hogwarts to try and protect the students without bein’ arrested. 

“I’ve got this Filius, Minerva! I mean it... you can’t be involved! It’s too risky - for Parvati and Jennifer - and for you as well. I promise that my plan’ll work... The Carrows still don’t know ‘oo I really am yet - and they’re not gonna find out. I replicated an Unspeakable cloak and disguised myself...” Dora glanced at Daphne and Fleur. “That was me you two saw in the dungeons this morning...”

“Zat was you?” gasped Fleur.

“Then you have their wands?” Daphne’s eyes widened in excitement.

“Yeah... ” Dora grinned. “I couldn’t believe it when Mr Carrow ‘anded me their wands. That was a real stroke of luck! I thought we’d ‘ave to steal some and make do. I got all of our bags too, so we’re all ready to go...”

“Anyway, I can disguise myself as an Unspeakable again tonight, when it’s time for the next watch to keep an eye on the prisoners. You two should just wait for us with Luna in the Unaffiliated Corridor tonight. I know ‘ow to reverse the Bewitched Sleep charm and open the cell door, so that’s the easy bit really...”

“We’ll need a distraction when we get outta the dungeons to get past all the Unspeakables and get to the portraits - we only need to get to the first portrait nearest to the dungeon, and we don’t want anyone to notice us runnin’ through all the other paintings...”

“Fred and George,” said Ginny.

“Way ahead of you Love,” Dora retorted with a grin. “I’ve already notified them and Neville and some of our other friends of our timetable... There’s gonna be a riot tonight, right around curfew...”

**~o0o~**

Madam Pomfrey, McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick kept close watch as the four girls departed from the hospital wing, then closed the door behind them. Professor McGonagall pursed her lips worriedly and turned back to her colleagues when they were certain that the students were safely on their way.

“Are you certain we’re doing the right thing, Filius?” asked Madam Pomfrey. “Surely there is more we can do to help them...”

“I am not certain at all Poppy,” the Charms professor responded honestly, and not without some heat. “I am of half a mind to ignore Nymphadora’s warning and rescue the Potters and their friends at this very moment myself...”

“No!” said Professor McGonagall, sadly but firmly, much to her colleagues’ surprise. “No... Tonks was correct. The Potters and their friends must work this out for themselves. The best way for us to facilitate their escape from Hogwarts is to remain calm and stay out of their way...”

“But Minerva...” Pomfrey pleaded.

“I am sorry Poppy!” the true deputy headmistress of Hogwarts said sternly. “Dumbledore was quite clear in his instructions - we are not to give the Inquisitors any reason to arrest us...” 

McGonagall held up her hand to quiet Flitwick, who looked as if he were about to strenuously object.

“Filius...” she continued, “I understand all too well your concerns - they are my own as well. But I must remind you that this is the moment we have been preparing the Potters and their friends for. They are all quite up to the task at hand, and Tonks’s plan to retrieve the Potters and Misses Patil and Watts is sound.

“That does not mean we are to do nothing at all. It simply means that our own task is to assist in misdirecting the focus of the Inquisitors when the time comes - even if that means allowing the Weasley Twins to wreak chaos in these hallowed halls - and to protect those remaining at Hogwarts by appearing as if we have nothing to do with the ensuing fracas... Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes... quite clear!” Professor Flitwick sighed, deflating.

**~o0o~**

A flurry of snow swirled through the gap in the front doors of the castle when they opened to provide entrance to Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet who had just returned from the quidditch pitch. As the massive oak doors shut behind them, the pair of young witches dusted the snow from their anoraks. Despite the darkness and the inclement weather, they had decided to get in one last fly around the pitch after dinner.

“We’d better hurry,” said Alicia nervously, looking up at the clock. “It’s nearly curfew... Only fifteen minutes to spare.”

Katie nodded and followed Alicia up the marble staircase. They were nearly back to the Gryffindor Common Room they spied a First Year Ravenclaw girl who looked a bit lost.

“Are you alright?” asked Katie.

“I... I think I’m on the wrong floor,” the girl muttered, looking very embarrassed. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“We’ll take you to your tower,” said Alicia kindly. “You really shouldn’t be wandering around alone and there’s only a few minutes to go until curfew.”

“Oh... thank you very much!” the girl replied brightly. On their way to the Ravenclaw Tower, the girl started looking very antsy, like she had to pee. “Is there a bathroom around here? I really have to go...”

“Just around the corner,” Katie replied, glancing around anxiously. “We’ll all go in... but you’ll have to hurry.”

As they entered the girl’s lavatory Katie felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck. She spun around and gasped when Draco Malfoy and Goyle clicked the door shut behind them, both chortling and pointing their wands at Katie and Alicia.

“This is the girl’s loo - get out!” Alicia snapped as she and Katie whipped out their wands. To their horror, a high pitched voice from behind yelled, “Expelliarmus,” and their wands went flying. 

“What did you do that for?” Katie shouted at the Ravenclaw girl. Alicia tugged on Katie’s sleeve and pushed her behind herself protectively, eyeing Malfoy and Goyle, unable to fathom why the Ravenclaw had turned against them.

Draco leered at the disarmed Gryffindor girls. It was Katie Bell who really had it coming, but maybe he’d have a go at Alicia too. She was quite a looker as well. Draco supposed Goyle might also like a turn with the girls after he’d finished with them. But Draco was the boss and for now Goyle needed to keep watch.

“Petrificus Totalus,” Draco intoned, and Alicia toppled over, paralysed from head to toe. Katie felt a clutch of fear in her abdomen.

 _ **“We**_ can go anywhere we want,” gloated Malfoy pointing to his Inquisitorial Squad badge. _**“You**_ on the other hand are on the wrong floor and it’s almost curfew... I’d say that gives us the right to do a bit of inquisiting, wouldn’t you Goyle?”

Goyle gave Malfoy a blank look; Draco rolled his eyes.

“Actually, none of that really matters,” Draco snorted as he pulled off his robe and blazer, revealing his white shirt and his silver and green tie. “Now that the Carrows are in charge, they said I can do whatever I want to you...”

“NO!” screamed Katie, hitting Draco as he tore at her clothes. “You disgusting pig... let go of me!” 

Goyle grabbed Katie’s arms and she kicked him in the shin, eliciting a grunt of pain. The door of the bathroom suddenly flew open with a loud bang, startling everyone inside. 

Draco seized Katie and spun around holding her in front of himself, his wand-tip digging under her chin. His eyes widened with surprise to see Ginny Weasley, Fleur Delacour, and Daphne Greengrass. Draco glanced fearfully at Goyle when Fleur locked the door and cast a silencing charm on it.

“What the hell? How did you...?” Draco sputtered.

“We saw you following Katie and Alicia and the Ravenclaw girl... so _we_ followed _you_ ,” Ginny replied, giving Malfoy a look which promised danger.

“Oi... I am a senior member of the Inquisitorial Squad!” Draco barked in the most pompous voice he could muster. “When the Minister hears about this, you’ll all be sorry...”

“Oh, Shut-up!” snapped Fleur; her crystal-blue eyes flaring with anger. “You are mos’ répugnant...”

“Let go of Katie!” said Daphne frostily, her wand pointed squarely between Draco’s eyes. “NOW!”

Draco had a really bad feeling about this. Potter’s girlfriends could have disarmed him and Goyle when they entered, but had chosen not to. He glanced at the locked door and swallowed anxiously - clearly they didn’t intend to let him leave. 

To hell with this and the political ramifications of fighting with Delacour and Greengrass... his life was clearly on the line. If they wanted a fight, he’d show them exactly what he was capable of now. He was done with the Greengrass Bitch! Draco yanked his wand away from Katie’s neck and aimed it at Daphne.

 **“AVADA KEDAVRA!”** Draco roared. A bolt of green lightning struck the wall, shattering tiles as Daphne dodged and rolled, slashing her wand.

Draco’s one good hand separated from his wrist followed by a crimson spray which splattered against a bathroom mirror, dripping into one of the sinks. He screamed in terror, releasing Katie Bell from the grasp of his prosthetic hand.

Ginny was in a blazing rage, and all she could see was red... First McLaggen and Towler, and now this. She slashed her wand when she saw Katie dive for a bathroom stall and a long scarlet rip tore across Draco’s chest. A bloom of red spread across his white shirt as a piece of his tie fluttered to the bathroom floor.

Time seemed to slow as the memories flashed through Daphne’s mind: humiliating visions of Lucius Malfoy trying to buy her for Draco over the years, each time raising his offer, only to be rebuffed time and again by her father - the degrading moment that Draco had forced a kiss on Daphne and put his hand under her skirt - the day he’d put her sister Astoria in St Mungo’s - and now Katie Bell in a Hogwarts lavatory...

...not to mention that the bastard had just tried to kill her. Daphne slashed her own wand at Draco again, and a gaping wound opened in his neck. Rivulets of blood streamed down his front, painting red whatever white was left of his shirt.

Goyle and the Ravenclaw girl both snapped out of their stupor and yelled “Diffindo,” hoping to hit one of the newcomers with their own cutting spells. But Ginny, Fleur, and Daphne were already in motion and retaliating. 

Still confused by the First Year Ravenclaw girl’s attack, thinking that she had perhaps been imperiused, Fleur dropped her with a stunning spell.

Ginny rolled out of the way of Goyle’s spell and whipped her wand at one of Goyle’s legs. Goyle crumpled to the tiled bathroom floor shrieking in agony, leaving half his leg still standing. As a crimson puddle spread across the tiles below his knee, the foot and calf he’d left behind slowly toppled over.

Ginny and Fleur helped Katie and Alicia to their feet while Daphne saw to the groaning Ravenclaw girl who was just coming around from the stunning spell.

“You’re not really a Ravenclaw... are you!?” said Daphne, her voice brittle and icy. The terrified girl shook her head and burst into tears.

“It was all Malfoy’s idea...” the girl sobbed loudly. “He m...made me take polyjuice potion - I’m really Crabbe. Please... don’t kill me... don’t kill me.”

“You just keep your fat little mouth shut for now then, and we’ll take you to the hospital wing,” said Daphne, giving the polyjuiced Crabbe-girl a little shove. The fake Ravenclaw girl nodded miserably.

The girls heard a gurgling sound. They turned to peer at Draco Malfoy as his last breath escaped through the bloody foaming gash across his neck. Alicia clapped a hand to her mouth and turned green, trying valiantly to control her stomach. Katie looked away and promptly vomited on the floor, heaving several times.

**~o0o~**

Madam Pomfrey watched Daphne, Fleur, and Ginny depart from the infirmary for a second time in one day as she dosed Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and the still polyjuiced Vincent Crabbe with calming draughts. Dutifully and sadly, she notified Professors McGonagall and Flitwick about the Slytherins bleeding out in the girls lavatory near Ravenclaw Tower, mentioning that one was already deceased.

Several minutes later the curfew bell struck. Pomfrey heard explosions as fireworks began to erupt throughout the castle and she knew that the Potters and their friends were making their escape.

**~o0o~**

“Oh, thank _goodness_ you’re alright!” said Luna breathlessly as she flung herself on Ginny. “I’ve been so worried about you after what happened to you earlier today. What happened now? ... Why are you all so late?”

“I’m fine!” Ginny beamed, trying very hard not to show how rattled she still felt. “Really... I’m okay Luna. I don’t really have time to tell you right now. I’ve got to get back out there and you need to be ready to go as soon as Dora returns with Harry and Hermione and the others. Fleur and Daphne will fill you in...”

Everyone nearly jumped out of their skins when they heard a loud boom go off on the other side of the wall and the Unafilliated Corridor shook. Daphne squeaked and was beginning to shake, not with fright, but rather from the shock which just now starting to set in; the strange icy calmness which had come over her during the battle with Malfoy was gone.

“The fireworks...” said Fleur who was feeling highly agitated, the adrenaline from the fight with Malfoy and his goons still pumping through her veins. “Dora will be here soon...”

Ginny planted a big wet kiss on Luna’s lips and hugged her one last time, a tear trickling down one cheek. “Bye Luna! I’ll miss you loads... good luck.”

“I love you Ginny,” said Luna, giving her girlfriend one final kiss. 

Ginny turned back towards the copy of the portrait of Aphrodite which sat on the inner wall at the end of the Unaffiliated Corridor. She gave Aphrodite’s painted lips a kiss and stepped into the frame, emerging from the copy of the portrait on the other side of the stone wall.

Luna desperately wanted to ask Daphne and Fleur what had happened, but they both looked like they were still too freaked out to really talk about it. She sighed, supposing she would just have to wait a bit for more information.

**~o0o~**

“Oh... yes... Oh... that feels good, Amycus... harder...” Alecto moaned blissfully as the bed rocked beneath them. She suddenly realised that it wasn’t just the bed - the entire chamber was trembling.

“Bloody Hell! What was that?” Amycus Carrow leapt off his sister when he heard the sound of explosions.

Alecto groaned at the poor timing - she had been so close to release. But as she watched her brother pull his clothes back on, she knew she would have to follow suit. Hurriedly the Carrow siblings dressed and dashed from their quarters into the castle, only to be bowled over by a horde of shrieking students.

Pandemonium had taken Hogwarts by storm! Panicked students were pouring out from their common rooms and into the hallways screaming. The Carrows scrambled to their feet only to be chased down the ancient stone hallway by a blazing dragon made entirely of fireworks. They emerged onto a landing in the Hall of moving staircases where they were swamped by a surge of frightened pupils.

Red and green pinwheels, purple rockets, silver comets, and golden shooting stars detonated all around them as acrid smoke filled the corridors of the castle. Roman Candles hopped around of their own accord shooting up sparks and great balls of fire, and silvery-red Sparklers flew around writing swear words in the air.

Dozens of Unspeakables ran around madly, trying unsuccessfully to corral the students and contain the fireworks. But the Vanishing Spells and Counter-spells only seemed to cause the fireworks to multiply and grow larger.

The Carrows fought their way down two flights of marble stairs to reach the ground floor. They were suddenly and violently shoved aside by two burly Unspeakables, knocking them both off their feet. 

Amycus Carrow was just about to hex the Unspeakables when a large crystal Chandelier came crashing down, just barely missing them and shattering on the floor. The new headmaster realised that the Unspeakables had just saved their lives.

The Carrows clambered to their feet and looked up to see what had happened, only to be forced to duck by two fast moving blurs bearing down on them. 

**“Bye bye Losers!”** someone yelled as a whoosh of wind swept by the faces of the Carrows.

 **“Send our love to the Minister...”** shouted another.

The Carrows gaped at the two red-headed students swooping through the castle on their brooms. The front doors burst open letting in a bitter blast of wind and snow. As the Carrows looked on in shock and dismay, the Weasley Twins soared into the night sky followed by a flock of pupils on broomsticks. 

Before they realised what was happening, Amycus and Alecto were once again thrown to the floor by their bodyguards, this time saved from being crushed by a statue of Paracelsus which had just been knocked off the third floor veranda. The Carrows both heard cackling and dizzily looked up through the haze of smoke as smouldering sparks continued to rain down upon them.

 **“LOOK OUT BELOW!”** bellowed Peeves the Poltergeist as he bounced like a speedy ping pong ball from one wall to the other, “Sorry! Was I supposed to say that first?” he chortled before flying up into the rafters at the very top of the castle.

Suddenly it struck them - the Carrows shared a look and their faces fell in horror. The Potters!

The newly crowned Headmaster and Headmistress of Hogwarts hurried through the chaos erupting all around them and scuttled down into the dungeons. But by the time they arrived it was too late; several Unspeakables lay unconscious on the floor by the empty cell which had held the Potters and two of their little friends.

**~o0o~**

Hermione was the first to jump out of Phineas Nigellus’s portrait into the library at Number Twelve, gasping breathlessly as she stumbled and collapsed on a sofa. Parvati leapt down behind her, just as dazed and out of breath.

Phineas grumbled as the other members of the Potter fan-club jostled past him and Harry guided them through the frame one by one. Finally, after Harry was sure everyone else was out, he gave Phineas an apologetic look and heaved himself out of the portrait into Number Twelve. Harry turned around and muttered the spell to close the Portal Charm behind them.

“Sorry about that Headmaster Black....” Harry said sincerely, “Emergency Exit! Thanks for your patience!”

“Yes... yes, never mind that,” moaned the put-upon portrait of Sirius’s Ancestor. “Patience isn’t really my strong suit... I made a promise to Dumbledore!”

“Thanks for rescuing us Dora!” Parvati hugged the older girl before flinging herself on a comfy chair.

“I hope everyone back at Hogwarts is alright,” said Luna.

“Is Draco Malfoy really dead?” Jennifer asked Daphne. 

Daphne nodded awkwardly as tears rolled down her clammy pale cheeks, feeling ashamed of herself and trembling violently. Her knees began to wobble and Fleur caught her before she collapsed.

“Ees a fitting end to a very wicked young man,” Fleur said adamantly, laying Daphne down on one of the other sofas in the library. “Zat Malfoy... ‘e violated you, ‘e hurt your seester, he tried to rape Katie, ‘e tried to kill you, and he was going to ‘elp ze Carrows torture our friends - you did what you ‘ad to do Daphne.”

“Bloody well right you did!” Dora agreed as she rummaged through her bag. “Here, quick, drink both of these Daphne... every drop! You’re going into shock...” 

“But... but it was so awful...” sobbed Daphne, holding the vials of calming draught without really registering what Dora had just given her. “All the b...blood... and I did it - I stood there and w...watched him die... that doesn’t seem right...”

“You were not ze only one Daphne! Ginny... she also ‘elped put zat fiend where ‘e belongs... Malfoy, ‘e deserved every bit of it!”

“I know it feels wrong Daphne, but that’s because you’re a good person,” Hermione said earnestly. “I felt exactly the same way after I killed Wormtail...”

Jennifer plonked herself on the sofa next to Daphne and took the vials from her shaking hands, unstoppering them. 

“Come on... down the hatch,” she said gently, holding one of the vials to Daphne’s lips. Daphne did as she was told, still more or less oblivious to what she was doing. 

“And the other one,” said Jennifer. Daphne swallowed the second vial; her eyes finally began to glaze slightly and her body went slack as the tremors halted.

“It’s alright Daphne!” Jennifer murmured... “We all know what a kind, loving person you truly are! It’s alright to be glad that someone as cruel as Draco is dead. They can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

Jennifer pressed her lips to Daphne’s, stroking her golden hair with one hand and her cheek with the other. Daphne felt a warm flicker of light sparking inside her. As the spark grew and caught flame, spreading throughout her body, the ice that had flowed through her veins since Malfoy had returned to Hogwarts melted and she felt more at peace than she had for months.

Feeling a bit better, Daphne snuggled with Jennifer on one of the sofas by the fireplace in Number Twelve’s cozy Parlour, where they had all migrated to from the library. Feeling much better herself, Hermione settled on Harry’s lap as he tapped his mirror and contacted Professor McGonagall.

“Thank heavens you’re safe, Harry!” Minerva McGonagall exclaimed with relief when her face appeared in the mirror.

“Yeah... we all got out safely,” Harry responded, smiling at Professor McGonagall’s rare use of his first name. “What about everyone at Hogwarts? Did the Weasley Twins manage to get any muggleborn students out?”

“It is still quite chaotic here at the moment,” McGonagall replied as the sound of fireworks exploding could be heard in the background, “But, yes, a fair number of muggleborn students departed on brooms much to the dismay of the Carrows... But I will not know if all the muggleborn escaped until we do a head count tomorrow most likely.”

“Is Ginny alright?” asked Hermione anxiously.

“Yes... Miss Weasley is quite alright,” Minerva answered. “Young Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle made it very clear to the Carrows that Miss Greengrass was the one most responsible for the death of Mr Malfoy in response to his failed attempt at employing a Killing Curse against her...

“The Carrows accepted the Slytherin boys’ explanation of events and seemed quite reluctant to force the issue any further... something about the Minister and Wizengamot politics.”

Luna’s ears perked, overhearing the conversation between the Potters and Professor McGonagall. She wriggled closer to the cushioned armchair in which the Potters were seated together, leaned over the armrest and peered into their mirror.

“Are you _**sure**_ Ginny’s alright?” Luna asked, looking very concerned. “She’s been through rather a lot of upset today...”

“Yes dear,” Minerva replied, her features softening, “She is spending the night in the hospital wing recovering in Madam Pomfrey’s care. After I was certain that you had all left Hogwarts safely, I retrieved Miss Weasley from her dormitory and refused to take no for an answer this time. We’ve got her well looked after.

“In any case, now that I know that you have all arrived safely at the other end, I ought to be getting on with things here. Now, Mr Potter... until we hear from the headmaster - the real one that is - we should all try and keep our heads down...” 

Between the look that Professor McGonagall was giving him, and her return to the use of his surname, Harry could tell that she meant business. He gave her a sheepish grin and nodded.

“Yeah... okay Professor! I’ll try to stay out of trouble for a bit,” Harry agreed. “I’m sure Hermione’ll keep me in line...”

“...Ow!” said Harry when Hermione swatted his shoulder and giggled. “See what I mean?” he chortled.

“Very good!” McGonagall allowed herself a little smile. “I’ll hold you to that Mrs Potter...”

“Yes... well I’ll do my best Professor McGonagall, but you know as well as I do that Harry isn’t one to sit on his laurels for very long,” Hermione retorted. “So let’s hope that Professor Dumbledore comes up with a plan soon.”

“Let us hope so indeed!” sighed McGonagall. “Goodnight Potters... Goodnight all!”

Harry realised it was getting late, and his stomach was grumbling. He glanced at the others, who all appeared to have settled down, the worst of the anxiety and stress of the escape from Hogwarts having ebbed. 

“Anyone else hungry?” he asked. “Most of us haven’t really eaten today. I can have a look and see what’s in the pantry.”

Hermione blushed in embarrassment when her own tummy rumbled in response. Fleur and Daphne both nodded; they had been too anxious to eat much at dinner time.

“Oooh... ta Harry! Yes please!” Parvati’s eyes lit up. “I’m starving, but don’t put yourself out...”

“...we can help you make dinner if you’d like!” Luna offered.

“Right then,” Harry nodded. “I’m not sure what we’ve got - but it’ll be a good chance to practice our transfiguration if there's nothing interesting...”

Harry was interrupted by a loud cracking sound, and Jennifer squealed. Dora’s wand was instantly in her hand. Harry’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw Dobby struggling with a very irate looking snowy owl, and an even angrier hissing, spitting, orange ball of fur. 

Apparently Hedwig and Crookshanks didn’t think very much of traveling by apparition. The badly scratched but gleeful looking Dobby released Hedwig and Crookshanks. The owl flew to the top of a tall highly polished mahogany bookcase squawking furiously at him, and the cat simply turned his back on the House-Elf, wagging his tail crossly.

“Dobby is rescuing Mr and Mrs Potter’s owl and cat,” squeaked the delighted Dobby.

“Er... thank you very much Dobby!” said Harry, torn between bemusement and concern.

“Oh you poor thing,” Hermione dabbed at Dobby’s bleeding claw and peck marks with her hanky. “You really didn’t have to do that Dobby... ”

“...We visited the Owlery on Thursday and told Hedwig where to find us,” Harry continued.

“...and Ginny was going to look after Crookshanks,” Hermione concluded.

“But it be too dangerous for Master Harry and Mistress Hermione’s Hedwig to fly to London,” Dobby explained. “Dobby overhears new headmistress order Unspeakables to put tracking spell on Mr and Mrs Potter’s owl... They might be hurting her! And Mrs Potter is being sad without her cat.”

“Oh...” Harry shared a dark look with Hermione, then gave Hedwig a reproachful eye. Hedwig sheepishly turned her face away and hooted apologetically at Dobby. Hermione raised her eyebrows at her cat; Crookshanks looked a bit ashamed of himself and purred a bit at Dobby as if to say sorry.

“You absolutely did the right thing then!” said Harry. “Thanks again Dobby - you’re brilliant! You should probably go back to Hogwarts and get some sleep...”

“Oh, no sir,” said Dobby, “Dobby is making dinner for Master Harry and his Mistresses now...”

Dobby disappeared with another loud crack before Harry could refuse. The girls couldn’t help giggling at being called Harry’s “Mistresses” by Dobby. Harry groaned, rubbing his forehead and turning beet red, his face blazing with embarrassment. This was much worse than when Dobby had automatically assumed that Hermione was his girlfriend in second year - at least that had some basis in fact.

“I don’t think that’s really what Dobby meant, Harry,” Hermione giggled. “I think that when Dobby said _‘his’_ Mistresses he was referring to himself and simply employing the term ‘Mistresses’ as the feminine form of ‘Masters.’ It's just the funny way Dobby speaks.”

“Oh! Thank God!” Harry breathed a heavy sigh of relief, causing everyone to laugh even harder. Moments later the sound of pots clanging and the smell of food cooking wafted up the stairs from the kitchen below...


	57. The Next Day is Grey

Harry groaned, rubbing his full belly when he and the others had finished demolishing the feast that Dobby had provided - every bit as delicious as the meals at Hogwarts. Dobby beamed, delighted to have been invited to eat with the Potter’s and their friends. 

“That was absolutely smashing Dobby!” said Harry, grinning at the happy little House-Elf. “Now maybe you ought to go back to Hogwarts and get some rest...”

Dobby’s already enormous eyes widened pleadingly and his bat-like ears quivered. 

“Dobby is wanting to stay sir,” he squeaked. “Harry Potter and his wife is needing a house-elf of their own now that they are at home.”

“But you work at Hogwarts Dobby. Dumbledore _is_ still paying you properly, isn’t he?” 

“Yes sir. But Dobby is not wanting to work for the headmaster anymore. Dobby wants to work for Harry Potter.” 

Harry sighed and ruffled his hair with his fingers, glancing at Hermione. He had never in his life considered having his own personal servant. It seemed a bit decadent really.

“It’s up to you Harry,” said Hermione sympathetically, knowing exactly how Harry felt. “Dobby’s free to make his own choices.”

“Alright then,” Harry finally agreed after thinking for several minutes. “But none of this one galleon a week nonsense Dobby. If you’re going to work for me then I’m paying you ten galleons a week! And... and you have to take paid holidays.”

“Thank you sir!” Dobby squealed gleefully. “Dobby is not wanting so much - but if Master Harry insists, Dobby will make do.”

“I think ees bedtime,” said Fleur, yawning. Unable to help herself, Daphne yawned too, and soon everyone else was yawning as well.

“Come on then, let’s find you all some rooms,” said Hermione. 

“We’ve got loads to choose from,” Harry added...

**~o0o~**

Feathery melodious wisps skipped across thunderous throbbing rhythms and looping arpeggios, braced by stuttering swells of strings and soaring seraphic voices. The writhing crowd seemed to move in frozen moments of time like an old flickering film reel, caught as it was in the flashing strobe lights and lasers.

Elphias Doge grumbled as he made his way across the dancefloor from the loo; it was impossible to avoid being jostled by the dancing throng of exuberant ravers. London nightclubs weren’t what he remembered them to be, but perhaps he was just getting old.

“Nice bell-bottoms grandad!” chortled a clearly inebriated lad wearing baggy clothes and a tall red and white striped hat. “Your look’s a bit outdated innit mate?”

“Hark whose talkin’ Warren,” giggled a girl with pink knotted hair and sparkly pink face paint. “That Dr Seuss hat is so last year...” The girl grinned at Elphias. “Don’t mind ‘im! I think that retro look is cool, gran’pa...”

“Mmm... _**I**_ like your tie-dyed friend with the sexy long Gandalf beard,” giggled one of the other girls. Her features were made up with a vibrant array of dazzling colours, rainbow swirls on one cheek, and gold and silver stars on the other. Her eyes appeared glazed with bliss, and to Elphias’s surprise she slinkily draped her arms around Albus Dumbledore’s shoulders, giving him a kiss without warning.

 _“Excuse me!”_ gasped Elphias, shocked at the girl’s forward behaviour.

“It’s quite alright, Elphias... I believe these youngsters are simply under the influence of some sort of ecstasy-inducing substance... They seem to mean no harm,” Albus asserted, his clear blue eyes twinkling. “I must say, this does take me back a few decades...”

“Er... yes. I suppose so Albus,” Elphias grimaced. “But this... this _music_... Whatever became of Abba and the Bee Gees?” 

“Oooh... I love Abba!” said the pink haired girl.

“I was thinking more of the previous decade,” Dumbledore chuckled. “The summer of ‘67 in particular when ‘free love’ was all the rage. But in any case my dear Elphias, I confess that I find this music quite intoxicating indeed. And can you truly not hear it? ... the echoes of days gone past?” 

“Well... I suppose there are hints of Abba - _Take a Chance on Me_ in particular,” Elphias Doge grudgingly admitted, glancing at his watch. “But I’m getting a bit of headache, and I am more than ready for a change of venue. Our contact is late...”

“I am sure they will be here soon,” Dumbledore replied soothingly. “In the meantime, I must say that I am quite enjoying this moment... it may be the last such in a good long while. And if you are not up for a dance with me, Elphias, I think I will take this delightful young woman up instead...” 

“Very well then,” Elphias sighed. He made his way to the bar and ordered himself a stiff drink. Sipping on his cocktail and massaging his forehead, Elphias watched Albus gyrate vigorously with college-girl in time to the pulsing electronic rhythms. 

Despite the intensely rushing surges of elation sweeping through her from head to toe, the girl with the rainbows and stars painted on her face still had some measure of her faculties. She eyed the old man at the bar cannily. 

“Your friend seems a bi’ put out, Mr...?” 

“It’s Dumbledore, but you may call me Albus, and don’t mind my partner Elphias. We haven’t been a serious item in some decades. And you are?”

“Clara... Clara Dawson. The pink haired girl is my little sister, Gemma... and the bloke with the silly hat is Warren - ‘e’s just a friend!” 

“Well, Miss Dawson... I am quite delighted to make your acquaintance...”

Clara batted her eyelashes and blushed. Warren bounced by with Gemma, grinning and chortling.

“Oh shut it!” Clara moaned at Warren. “It’s just a dance...”

Finally the lengthy dance track came to an end and Dumbledore thought that perhaps it was time to rejoin Elphias. But Clara seemed reluctant to let him go.

“I am sorry my dear, but I really must be getting on,” said Dumbledore. Clara bit her lip as she peered into Albus’s kind looking eyes. 

Dumbledore sighed inwardly, recognising the look all too well. Apparently the affection she had displayed was rooted in a very real attraction - perhaps a symptom of the recreational drug coursing through her veins, perhaps not. Either way, far too many would inappropriately be tempted to take advantage of the situation. The young were so vulnerable, particularly those such as she in her current state.

“Take care dear,” he said gently, raising his eyebrows. Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, Dumbledore retrieved a glossy card with gold lettering. “For emergencies only! I may not look it, but I am capable of resolving most problems... including imminent danger. Should you ever have need, give me a ring and leave a message.”

“Oh... Ta Albus!” Clara’s eyes lit up. “Will do...”

Elphias shook his head when Dumbledore joined him at the bar. “Really Albus... You know I love you dearly, but you are incorrigible...” Elphias trailed off and stiffened when he spied a well dressed young man with closely cropped brown hair and one gold earring approaching. The man glanced at a photograph in his hand.

“Monsieur? You are Albus Dumbledore?” The young Frenchman looked Dumbledore up and down, taking in the tie-dyed t-shirt and jeans with apparent surprise. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“Madame Maxime... she sends me,” the man reassured Dumbledore, holding out his hand. “Pierre... Pierre Deveraux.”

After peering into Pierre’s eyes for a moment, Dumbledore nodded, satisfied that he wasn’t from the Ministry. He took Pierre’s hand and shook it. 

“You have it then?”

“Oui! The international portkey with ze proper coordinates as requested.” Pierre opened the briefcase he had brought and retrieved a hairbrush. 

Dumbledore smiled and took the hairbrush from Pierre’s hand. “Thank you Pierre. You have my warmest regards.”

Elphias Doge followed Dumbledore as he made his way to an exit at the rear of the nightclub. They emerged into an icy torrent of rain in a forbiddingly dark alleyway, peering in all directions, making sure that none were lurking in the shadows. Grasping either side of the hairbrush, they both took a deep breath as they felt the familiar tugging sensation behind their navels. Moments later they began to rise, spinning in the air, then vanished as they were sucked into the vortex above them...

**~o0o~**

Andrea Mason glanced around nervously, checking her watch at intervals. Her heart thumped in her ears - seeming louder than the pulsing beats which shook the nightclub - when she spied a character who looked suspiciously out of place. She sighed with relief when the smartly attired young man with vaguely Gallic features and a briefcase headed for the other end of the bar.

But she kept her eyes on the man, surprised at the incongruity when he met with a bearded old hippy who was clearly reliving his glory days. She bit her lip in bewilderment, wondering if it had anything to do with her meeting with the reporter from _The Guardian_ after all. 

Andrea felt something hard poking into her back and the hairs rose on the back of her neck. She inwardly cursed as her alarm skyrocketed. The distraction of the meeting taking place at the other end of the bar just might have just cost Andrea her life; the metallic object pressing against her somewhere in the vicinity of her kidneys felt an awful lot like the business end of a gun. If she had to guess, it was a glock with a silencer of the sort issued to MI6 operations officers. 

“Don’t turn around,” hissed the dangerous voice behind her. “We’re going to take a little walk outside, and if you even think about bolting into the crowd, you should know that we have your daughter...”

**~o0o~**

With shaking hands, Minister Dolores Umbridge poured herself an extra-large brandy, filling the snifter almost to the brim. She read the memo from Hogwarts again, then crumpled it up and hurled it into the fireplace.

To say that Dolores was angry or cross would be a serious understatement; perhaps infuriated or enraged would be better terms. But there was little point in allowing herself the luxury of succumbing to fury.

Contrary to the opinion of some, Dolores Umbridge really didn’t like being angry. Anger led to mistakes and loss of control. And yet she was forced to admit to herself that sometimes anger was an appropriate response which indicated that she had never had control to begin with. 

Dolores had to concede that she had no control over the mistakes and incompetencies of others. She understood implicitly that Draco Malfoy’s lack of control over himself was what had led to his unfortunate demise and the end of the Malfoy line. She sighed as she considered that Draco’s inability to control his impulses had surely been the outcome of overcompensating for his father’s death at the hands of Severus Snape, and the unforgivable abandonment of his mother.

The poor lad had clearly sought to relieve his impulses in the way that someone of such noble blood deserved, by demanding the submission of his inferiors to his desires.

It was true that Draco had made a serious error in judgment the day he had taken Astoria Greengrass without offering financial compensation to the Warlock of that House. But if the Old Ways had still been in effect, Draco’s parents could have purchased him a pretty plaything of his own - a pet such as a young muggle or mudblood girl could have provided some measure of release for his teenage urges, and he might still be alive today.

The Gryffindor halfblood Katie Bell was of little consequence. Draco had been fully within his rights for demanding satisfaction from her. But Dolores could hardly blame Daphne Greengrass, a young woman of equal blood status, for defending her own life and the honour of her family.

And as much as Dolores despised the Weasley brood - excepting her deputy of course - young Ginevra was still a pureblood - not of equal standing politically or financially to be sure - but she was still a member of a pure bloodline and of equal blood status to Gregory Goyle and Draco Malfoy nonetheless.

Ginevra Weasley had been entirely within her rights as well in defending her friend Miss Greengrass’s life and honour against Draco, and in defending her own life against Gregory Goyle, despite the downgrading of her family’s social and political status.

It was clearly Draco’s inability to control his anger at being interrupted at play with an inferior which had finally cost him his life. But it was a tragic waste which could have all been avoided if the Old Ways subscribed to by many of the Noble Houses in times long past had still been legally permissible. And that made Dolores angry.

One of the other events at Hogwarts - the loss of the Potters and the muggleborn students - while quite upsetting, was not due to any error in judgment on anyone’s part. Dolores could hardly assign blame for that. Their escape had obviously been planned well in advance, and was clearly part of the ongoing conspiracy being orchestrated by Albus Dumbledore.

As much as Dolores wished that she could punish the Carrows or the Unspeakables, she knew that they had done nothing wrong. But not having anyone in particular that she could punish for the escape of the Potters and their little friends made her very angry.

Then there was the behaviour of the Weasley Twins, following in the treasonous footsteps of their father. Their insurrectionary behaviour and deliberate flouting of authority, their facilitation of the escape of the muggleborn students, their clear lack of respect for blood status - all made them as criminally dangerous as the man their father served, Albus Dumbledore. And that made Dolores _extremely_ angry.

Dolores suddenly noticed that her snifter was empty and she filled it with brandy again. Eventually she succumbed and passed out on her plush pink sofa. She woke the next morning with the worst hangover of her life.

It was true that she was a witch and had access to the best anti-hangover potions that Ministry Money could buy, but Dolores was still infuriated and wished that she could get drunk all over again. Unfortunately, the Minister needed her wits about her as she had a long day ahead. She would have to make do.

Sighing heavily, the Minister sipped her first cup of tea of the day and began to compose a note to her senior undersecretary.

**~o0o~**

The Potters and their friends slept until late Saturday morning, and Dobby brought them all a late breakfast which they took in the parlour. While hungrily digging into scrambled eggs with one hand, Harry picked up the remote control with the other and turned on the BBC to see if anything interesting was happening in the Muggle World.

But besides the early snowstorm still blanketing Scotland and parts of Northern England, very little of note appeared to be happening. Everyone’s ears perked though, when a short segment was aired regarding another “zombie virus” outbreak in a suburb on the outskirts of Stoke-on-Trent. Fortunately, it had been contained fairly quickly; though sadly, at least seven were counted among the victims of the “living dead.”

Daphne, Luna, and Parvati were the most fascinated by the television. They had got used to the idea since the introduction of the Wiz-Vision at Hogwarts, but muggle TV was entirely new to them. 

Fleur was somewhat familiar with the general idea, due to following French muggle fashion and pop-culture magazines, but she had never actually watched muggle television either. Dora and Jennifer delighted in finding programmes on the cable access channels to show the others after Harry had had his fill of the BBC news.

“I was just thinking Hermione, we really ought to get a Wiz-Vision to stay up to date with whatever the Ministry is up to,” Harry said quietly while the others watched an episode of _Doctor Who_. “I should disguise myself and go to Diagon Alley and get one.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea Harry!” Hermione furrowed her brows in thought. “I wouldn’t mind going to Diagon Alley with you, but I’m not sure if it would be safe. Maybe it would be better for just you and Dora to go...”

“Go where?” Dora interjected when she heard her name being mentioned.

“To Diagon Alley to get a Wiz-Vision,” Harry replied with a grin. “But I’ll need to get a bit of money from my vaults. I’m not entirely sure how to go about that without giving us away, Hermione.”

“Perhaps Ragnok?” Hermione suggested. “If you can get in to see him in his office, he ought to be able to make arrangements...”

**~o0o~**

“Mr Ragnok sees clients by appointment only, Mr...?”

“Bond, James Bond,” the dashing wizard replied, saying the first thing which popped into his head. The elegant witch at his side did her best to stifle a giggle as the wizard continued speaking, “I think Mr Ragnok will make an exception in my case. I’m a former client of his.”

Griphook eyed the wizard and witch suspiciously. “I’ll see what I can do Mr Bond... just one moment.”

Moments later the debonair wizard and the sophisticated witch were in Ragnok’s office. The Solicitor Advocate of Gringotts steepled his long spindly fingers and regarded his clients shrewdly with dark glittering eyes.

“Mr _Bond_ is it? Strange that I do not recall having a client by that name. However, I do believe that we can come to some sort of business arrangement... Mr Potter!”

“How did you know?” Harry gasped. “I was going to tell you anyway, but how...?”

“Trade secret!” the Goblin chuckled, giving Harry a wink. “Let me just say that I am extremely perceptive. I presume that you need to access your vault, without the Ministry being alerted to your presence in Diagon Alley today.”

“Er... yeah! Is that possible?”

“Yes indeed, Mr Potter! Gringotts takes pride in being able to offer our high profile clients private and secure access to their vaults. It is not entirely unheard of for some to deign to enter Gringotts under an assumed identity. As long as you identify yourself to Gringotts agents properly, it is of little concern to us how you present yourselves to the wizard world... I’ll have someone take you to your vault in short order.”

While Harry and Dora waited for their escort, Harry was tempted to say sorry about the Dragon Incident - even though Harry felt a bit more sorry for the Dragon itself. But Ragnok seemed to understand Harry’s apologetic expression and shook his head slightly.

“You should be most pleased with our new security features Mr Potter,” Ragnok said loudly. “After the Lestrange Affair, Gringotts Management saw fit to reconsider employing dangerous creatures to guard the vaults... The Safety of our Clientele is as important to us as is the Security of their Valuables.”

A short while later Harry and Dora departed Gringotts, Harry’s pockets now full and jangling. An eerie gloom had settled over Diagon Alley which had nothing to do with the dismal grey skies above, and shoppers darted about furtively, not looking anyone in the eye. Aurors glanced at Harry and Dora, but all the Aurors saw were a well-heeled wizard and witch who were clearly of good breeding.

Harry and Dora were both extremely discomfited by the new uniforms which the Aurors patrolling the streets were wearing. To their eyes, the long trench-coats were now less reminiscent of Sherlock Holmes and more resembling of those worn by Nazi SS officers in muggle films.

To set off the whole oppressive atmosphere, an enormous screen, taking up the side of an entire building, featured the smiling toad-like figure of Minister Umbridge herself, dressed in pink and waving a white-gloved hand. Large bold text flashed across the lower portion of the screen:

**THE MINISTRY IS YOUR FRIEND**

**SERVING TRUTH AND JUSTICE FOR A SECURE FUTURE**

“Laying it on a bit thick, isn’t she!?” Dora muttered.

“Just a bit!” Harry snorted.

Harry nervously glanced at the Wanted Posters again, thankful that he and Dora at least were skilled metamorphmagi. Familiar faces peered at him from the Wanted Posters plastering the walls and lampposts along Diagon Alley.

Dumbledore’s twinkling blue eyes gazed at Harry, and Snape’s scowling countenance glared at him, from Wanted Posters labeled Undesirable Number 1 and Undesirable Number 2 respectively. It had been a bit of a shock to see the faces of Fred and George grinning at him from a single poster, designated as Undesirable Number 5 and Undesirable Number 6. Harry supposed it had been inevitable, but it didn’t stop him from feeling guilty for getting the Twins involved.

But it was seeing Hermione’s bushy head and his own opalescent green eyes staring back at him from the poster they shared which unnerved Harry the most. The Potters had been assigned the Number 3 and Number 4 rankings on the Undesirable list.

Dora glanced worriedly at Harry, knowing exactly why seeing Hermione’s face on a Wanted Poster next to his own was distressing him the most.

“Come on then, let’s get this done with and get outta here,” Dora muttered. “You don’t need to be lookin’ at these all day.”

“Y...yeah, you’re right Dora,” Harry gulped. They strolled down the cobbled street trying to avoid the biggest puddles and finally spotted Wiz-Vision monitors in the Wiseacre’s Wizarding Equipment window display. Entering the shop, they browsed the various models.

“They’re a lot less expensive than I thought they’d be,” Harry murmured when he peered at the sticker prices.

“Ah, those are the Ministry subsidised models you’re lookin’ at,” said the shop owner who had overheard. “Over ‘ere are the models designed for more discerning folk with such fine taste as yourselves - they ‘ave loads more features...”

Harry managed to keep a straight face as the shop owner tried to sell him the largest, most expensive model; the owner of the shop was delighted when he purchased it. Harry was a bit concerned about carrying the Wiz-Vision, but it turned out to be much lighter than it looked.

“This is a bit too bulky to apparate with though,” Dora remarked, frowning pensively.

“Why don’t we just go out through the Leaky Cauldron and hail a cab?” Harry suggested quietly.

“Yeah... suppose that’s best really,” Dora agreed with a nod.

Tom the Bartender looked up at the couple who had entered the Pub from the Alley side. He didn’t think he recognised them, but they looked quite posh.

“Can I get you two something, Mr and Mrs...?”

“...Bond, James and Vesper Bond,” tittered the elegant witch in her poshest accent. She looked at her smirking “husband” with pleading eyes.

“Oh... er alright then, what would you like Vesper dearest?” Harry asked, struggling to keep a straight face. He almost lost his composure completely when “Vesper” put in their orders.

“Two Mad-Eye Martinis please - shaken, not stirred.”

They sat down with their drinks glancing up at the Wiz-Visions around the Pub. It felt a bit odd seeing the screens in the Leaky Cauldron. Harry supposed that the invention of the Wiz-Vision must be taking off overseas as well. The screens were all currently displaying an International Quidditch match between Venezuela and Germany, and Venezuela was leading by 70 points. Harry returned his attention to Dora and the drinks.

“Er...” Harry raised an eyebrow when he peered at the gruesome looking garnish on his Martini.

“It’s alright - it’s not a real bloody eyeball,” Dora giggled quietly. “It’s a peeled lychee stuffed with a blueberry and drizzled with raspberry preserve. And it’s always hilarious to order this when we’re having drinks with Moody. He hates ‘em!”

As they sipped their martinis, Harry and Dora both thought that it was a shame that Hermione hadn’t come with them.

“We’ll ‘ave to use some transfiguration disguise spells or muggle disguise techniques on her and do this again in a muggle pub,” Dora chortled. “James Bond really isn’t quite right unless he’s got a girl on each arm...”

Big fat raindrops were already pelting by the time the taxi-cab pulled up next to the curb in front of Number Thirteen Grimmauld Place and in mere moments it became a downpour. The elegantly attired couple got soaked as they waited for the cab to leave. Then they disappeared into the non-space between Number Eleven and Number Thirteen carrying the enormous flat box between them.

When Hermione and Fleur opened the door they both let out a huge sighs of relief, thrilled that Harry and Dora had returned safely.

“You’re both drenched!” Hermione squeaked. “Let’s get you out of your wet things before you catch cold, Harry!”

“Zat sounds like vairy good idea,” said Fleur, eyeing her girlfriend who was shivering and dripping all over the floor. “Per’aps I run a nice hot bath, Dora?”

“Er... yeah! Sounds lovely Fleur!”

Harry and Dora both grinned as their respective partners dragged them both upstairs to their respective bedrooms to “get them out of their wet things.”

**~o0o~**

Senior Undersecretary Weasley ran his fingers through his hair as he scurried through the largely empty Ministry. It was rare indeed to be called in on a Saturday, but the memo he had received from the Minister had indicated great urgency. He burst into the Minister’s office breathlessly.

“Sorry it took me so long, Minister,” he wheezed. “I was in the middle of a... er... erm... a conversation with Penelope, my girlfriend.”

“Not at all, Mr Weasley! There’s no need to apologise...” Minister Umbridge peered at Percy’s flustered features and reddening ears shrewdly. If she had to guess, Percy had been in the middle of a rather heated row with Miss Clearwater when he’d received the memo, and if anything, the Minister was more than a bit surprised that Percy’s relationship had lasted as long as it had.

“In any case, I have some rather dire news as you may have surmised,” Minister Umbridge continued grimly. “It is with great regret that I must inform you that Draco Malfoy is dead.”

“D... _ **dead?”**_ gasped the Senior Undersecretary. “Draco Malfoy is dead?”

“Yes Mr Weasley,” the Minister replied as she continued the struggle to contain her rage. “Draco Malfoy was murdered most viciously last night.”

“So.... so that means... the Malfoy line...” Percy sputtered.

“...Is extinct! Yes indeed, that is precisely what it means Mr Weasley!” Minister Dolores Umbridge’s nostrils flared.

It wouldn’t do to lose her composure. She needed her wits about her to ensure that Percy Weasley would be able to perform a necessary task. If she misplayed her hand, it could unravel some of the work she had done with the lad.

Percy Weasley had been coming along quite nicely in embracing many of the harshest policies of the Pureblood Agenda so far. It hadn’t actually taken very much effort to draw him further down the path he had already been traveling; Percy’s views of Dumbledore and Potter had been shifting, and his estrangement from his father and much of his family had been underway even before he had begun working for the Ministry under Crouch Senior. 

But Percy still had a fondness for his sister and held out hopes for his younger brother. That might be an issue if Dolores didn’t choose her words carefully. Percy didn’t need to know that Daphne Greengrass and Ginny Weasley had been justifiably defending themselves at the moment; Dolores needed Percy’s anger, but she had to make sure that the anger was deflected and channeled in the right direction.

“B...but how? ....Who?” Percy’s head spun as he considered the horrifying implications of the ending of one of the most prestigious Pureblood Houses in Britain.

“Can you not guess, Mr Weasley?” Dolores’s voice took on the treacliest tone which she always employed when she sought to lead someone to her desired conclusion.

“Potter!” the Deputy Minister spat venomously. “It was Potter wasn’t it? I knew we should have snatched him and his little brood the moment Dumbledore did a bunk and went to ground...”

“Indeed Potter was involved, after a fashion!” Dolores nodded. “Or rather, according to Gregory Goyle - who was seriously injured during the attack - it was a member of Potter’s little entourage... Miss Greengrass I believe, aided and abetted by none other than your sister...”

“NO! Surely not... Ginny?” Percy went white. “Not Ginny,” he repeated. But then Percy’s blood began to boil and the blood rushed back into his cheeks. “POTTER! He should be arrested immediately. He put her up to it... I just know it!”

“Such is my own conclusion,” Dolores agreed. “But I am afraid it’s even worse than that. It is too late to arrest Potter or any of those known as the ‘Unaffiliated.’ Following the lead of Dumbledore, they have all gone to ground - with the considerable assistance of your brothers Fred and George I might add. 

Your brothers staged an uprising in the aftermath of the murder of Draco Malfoy to cover for the Potters and their little friends, and escaped from the confines of Hogwarts with numerous muggleborn students...”

 **“Bloody Hell!”** swore Percy, “I knew they were no good, filthy, treasonous louts. What of my brother Ron, and Ginny?” Percy looked at Dolores imploringly. “I... I know they’re close to Potter - but they’re brainwashed. Can we not show them some leniency?”

Minister Umbridge would have cackled with glee if she could. She had Percy Weasley in the palm of her hand now. She knew he would do whatever was required.

“Of course we can Percy dear,” Dolores addressed her Deputy Minister personally with a sad smile, “I feel much as you do, that the youngest of your clan may yet be shown the light. But in order to do so - we must deal forcefully with the root of their dysfunction...”

 _ **“My father!”**_ Percy snarled, “He should be brought up on charges immediately.”

“Fret not my dear boy. He has already been detained,” Dolores said soothingly. “He is already being held in the Department of Mysteries, awaiting interrogation. As a member of Dumbledore’s Order, I am hopeful that he will be able to yield actionable intelligence regarding the whereabouts of Dumbledore and the Potters - and perhaps also provide some information about the nature of the Secret Weapon employed by Dumbledore against Voldemort’s forces at Hogwarts...”

“Fred and George!” Percy scowled. “We should bring them in as well. It simply won’t do to have them running around spreading insurrection and thumbing their noses at authority.”

“I _quite_ agree Percy,” sighed the Minister, hiding her glee at her protege’s erudition behind another sad smile and a voice dripping with honey. Yes, Percy Weasley was coming along nicely indeed. “It is such a shame when family goes wrong... I know how hard this must be for you...”

“Not at all Minister,” Percy sniffed disdainfully. “I always knew that Fred and George were destined for Azkaban... er... prison anyway, seeing as Azkaban is defunct now.”

**~o0o~**

Albus Dumbledore sipped the champagne that his charming host, Henri Delacour, had provided - or rather, served by his wife, Apolline. Olympe Maxime was already on her second glass, wishing that she and Henri had better news for her good friend.

“I am so sorry Albus,” Olympe began, “but ze ICW Committee for the Investigation of Statutory Violations weell not interfere with the sitting head of the British Ministry unless you have some more substantial evidence zat she has violated International Laws... At the moment, to ze committee head - Madame Machschnell - eet simply appears to be an Internal Dispute.”

“I understand,” Albus sighed and drained his glass before continuing, “I was hopeful that the actions of Minister Umbridge might raise some red flags with Angelika and the other senior committee members... however, having been Supreme Mugwump myself before the Wizengamot rescinded my appointment to the ICW, I was all too aware that my petition would probably die in committee.”

“I wish we could do more openly,” said Henri Delacour glumly as he poured Dumbledore another glass of champagne. “I was most grateful when Madame McGonagall informed me that my daughter managed to reach safe haven with young Monsieur Potter and his wife.

“However, I _am_ quite pleased to inform you that I now have several underground teams in position in Britain ready to assist you at a moment’s notice should you require them.”

“Thank you Henri!” Albus nodded gratefully as he took a sip from his refilled glass. “I may have need of them if the rumours are true.”

“And take heart Chéri...” Olympe added, “...at least ze ICW has denied your Minister’s request for ze issuance of an International Arrest Warrant against you. Her evidence against you ees also lacking.”

“That is something indeed,” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled, cheered by that bit of good news. He raised his glass. “Thank you both for your kindness and your solidarity - to friendship then?”

“Oui - to friendship,” Olympe replied, raising her third glass of champagne with misty eyes.

“To friendship!” Henri raised his own glass and smiled. “And to the continuing struggle for liberté, égalité, and fraternité!”

**~o0o~**

The Potters and their friends were appalled by the state of Wiz-Vision’s Saturday evening programming. As of yet, only two channels were available to the general public: WVN and WVN Sports - though adverts suggested that more would be offered in coming months.

The third channel, WVN Hogwarts, was a special feed which only the Hogwarts screen could receive. WVN Sports mostly featured local, regional, and international Quidditch of course, but it was interspersed with Broomstick Racing, Troll Fighting, and Wizard Chess and Exploding Snap Tournaments.

Harry had expected that the evening news (which also featured William O’Hannity and Endora LeFay), would have wall to wall coverage of the mayhem at Hogwarts. But there was only a single reference to what had happened, delivered in a surprisingly perfunctory manner, accompanied by images of the Wanted Posters which he and Dora had seen earlier that afternoon.

“Ministry Officials are investigating reports of vandalism and violence at Hogwarts last night, following in the wake of Albus Dumbledore’s ouster,” the announcement began. “The death of a student has been rumoured, but Officials are keeping mum on the details until the initial stages of the investigation are completed.

“The only information which is being released at this time, is that Harry James Potter and his wife, Muggleborn Hermione Jean Potter, were witnessed fleeing the scene of the crime along with two accomplices, Fred and George Weasley.

“Warrants have been issued to detain them all for questioning, and all civilians are being warned to avoid confronting any of the suspects as they are all to be considered armed and dangerous. Anyone who has any information regarding their whereabouts are being asked to pass it on to the Auror Office.”

Daphne gasped in horror.

“I’m sorry!” she wailed. “It’s all my fault - I can’t believe they’re blaming you two and the Twins...”

“It’s not your fault at all Daphne!” said Jennifer earnestly. “You can’t think that!” 

“It’s alright Daphne,” said Harry, giving her a hug, and trying to squash his own guilty feelings again for getting the Weasley Twins involved. “The Minister would have just made up a reason to come after me and Hermione anyway...”

“Harry and Jennifer are right Daphne, and I’m just glad the Minister isn’t blaming you and Ginny,” Hermione added.

“Forget it chérie,” said Fleur. “Ze Minister, she will say anything to turn people against ‘Arry and ‘Ermione. You ‘ad nothing to do with this - she is a liar.”

Luna and Parvati did their best to reassure Daphne as well. Daphne nodded glumly and did her best to put it out of her head, which was a bit easier when Jennifer gave her a warm hug and a kiss which made her tingle from head to toe. And the Wiz-Vision also provided distraction when they all returned their attention to it... but not in a good way.

Following the evening news was a rather horrid hour-long game-show called _Spot the Muggleborn_ , which invited thirteen contestants to compete in performing spells, and then to try and guess which one among themselves was a muggleborn - the winner to receive a fifty galleon prize.

Only one of the competitors was a muggleborn, who was pretending not to be, and if none of the other twelve wizards guessed right by the end of the programme, the muggleborn wizard would receive a ten galleon prize. If more than one person guessed correctly, their names were all written on a slip of parchment and dropped into a wizard’s hat, the winner to be randomly selected by the muggleborn wizard who was blindfolded for the task.

The Potters and friends only watched the episode out of sheer morbid curiosity, and all of them felt rather ill by the end of it. Next up was an hour of children’s evening programming.

 _“Oh no!”_ Harry groaned and palmed his face when he recognised the character from one of Ron’s favourite comics, _The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle._

“This is dreadful!” Jennifer moaned as the cartoon character engaged in one boorish, idiotic antic after another. 

“What did Ron ever see in that revolting comic?” Hermione hissed angrily.

“I dunno really... and in retrospect, I’m surprised that his mum and dad let him read it,” Harry muttered. “I have to admit, I got a bit of a laugh when I read them - but that was only because they were so stupid.”

“And why do they make this ridiculous character French?” Fleur fumed.

Nobody had a good answer for that, and everyone was thoroughly embarrassed. The detective show, _Auror Morris_ \- which launched the portion of the evening programming for adults - didn’t seem quite so awful for most of the programme, but nobody was surprised when the murderer turned out to be a muggleborn wizard.

The period drama _Fly by Knight_ appeared to be a soap opera regaling viewers with the travails of a wealthy 15th century pureblood family - many of them brought about by their bumbling muggleborn servants. The main protagonists reminded Harry and Hermione uncomfortably of the Malfoys, but they were portrayed as tragically noble, long-suffering characters.

“That’s stupid!” Parvati grumbled crossly when one of the nieces was burned at the stake by a mob of angry muggles. “She could have just performed a flame freezing charm...”

“And even a First Year knows that nearly all of the ‘witches’ who were persecuted were actually muggles,” Luna added, rolling her eyes.

The least offensive programme that evening was _The Wiz Factor_ , a talent show for singers which was hosted by Celestina Warbeck - but it was rather boring as all of the singers just appeared to be doing their utmost to mimic Celestina. Even Parvati, who had been very interested at first, was cringing after the first fifteen minutes of the show.

The comedy/talk show hosted by the smarmy Grayson Morton was just too much - every other bad joke was about muggles or muggleborn wizards, and Harry turned off the Wiz-Vision after ten minutes of it, sick to his stomach.

“Well... that was bloody awful!” Harry said through gritted teeth. “Looks like the only thing this is good for at the moment is keeping us up on the news - skewed as it is - and a bit of sports.”

“Why don’t you turn the regular telly back on?” said Dora, “I need to watch somethin’ fun now to cleanse my brain before we go to bed.”

“Sounds good to me,” Harry agreed, flicking to one of the guide channels on the muggle television.

“Oh look, _Star Wars_ is going to be on in a few minutes,” said Luna, perking up. “Can we watch that please, Harry? You’ve told us so much about it...”

“Oooh, please Harry?” Parvati looked at Harry hopefully.

Harry glanced at Dora, Jennifer, and Hermione, all of whom had seen it before, but none of them had any objections. If anything, they all seemed eager to share their enjoyment of it with the other witches. Dobby made them all some popcorn, and soon the horrible Wiz-Vision shows were forgotten as everyone got sucked into the exciting space adventure.

“You were right Harry. Obi Wan is a bit like Dumbledore,” Luna giggled during a break for advertisements “...but his beard is too short.”

The Potters and the others never did make it to bed that night. They all dozed off in the parlour on the sofas with buttery fingers, the room lit only by the glow of the flickering images on the television screen.


	58. Captive Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A more explicit version of this chapter is now available in _Moments in Love: The Steamy Version._

Sunday was a lazy day for Harry and Hermione and their friends as Dora and Fleur had both insisted that everyone needed more time to recuperate from their ordeal. Daphne really couldn’t disagree. She had woken up in the wee hours of the morning, plagued by nightmares of blood dripping from her hands as she stood over Draco’s horribly mutilated corpse with a knife. 

And as she had fallen asleep in the parlour with the others, they had all woken as well, taking it upon themselves to comfort her. Dobby had been more than happy to provide them all with steaming cups of hot cocoa, and eventually they had all drifted off again. Daphne fell into a deep slumber, comforted by Jennifer’s warm embrace.

Hermione was the first to stir in the morning, pleased to see the sun streaming through the window - unimpeded by clouds - for the first time in weeks. It was well up, indicating that it was quite late in the morning. She sighed contentedly, snuggled as she was on the sofa in the safety of Harry’s arms, listening to Crookshanks purring who was sprawled across her and Harry’s laps.

Hedwig uttered a gentle hoot and Harry began to rouse as well, yawning and feeling more than a bit out of sorts, remembering that he and Hermione were now fugitives. Feeling Harry tensing up, Hermione shifted to face him, giving him a wan smile before planting a wet kiss on his lips.

It wasn’t long before everyone stirred awake, peering at each other blearily and yawning, all looking very much like they wouldn’t mind going back to sleep. Luna woke up feeling very glum, remembering that Ginny was still at Hogwarts; Luna was glad enough to be cuddled up on a settee with Parvati, but Parvati wasn’t Ginny.

Harry stood up and stretched his aching body; he felt a bit better after the kiss but his agitation wasn't so easily dispelled. The visit to Diagon Alley and the Wiz-Vision programming had really brought it home how bad things were getting. 

It wasn’t just about an “investigation” at Hogwarts anymore - Wizarding Britain was now completely under the thumb of Minister Umbridge and the Purebloods who had once upon a time been supporters of Voldemort. Harry instinctively knew that it was only a matter of time before they began rounding up the muggleborn everywhere... if they hadn’t already been at it surreptitiously for some time now.

Hermione frowned, knowing that the brooding look on Harry’s face indicated that he was still unsettled despite the kiss. There was one thing that she knew would relax him even more.

“Harry,” she said gently, “I know it’s a bit late in the morning, but there’s really no need for us to get up properly yet. We could go upstairs and have a bit more of a lie in after a shower and some breakfast...”

“I dunno,” Harry muttered. “Everything’s going to pot and I have to do _something_ Hermione...”

“No you don’t!” said Dora firmly. “Not today anyway. We all still need some time to recover and process things - Daphne certainly does...” Seeing that Harry looked like he was about to interrupt and say that he was fine, Dora quickly pressed on before he had a chance. “And I know you Harry. Despite what you think, you’re still in as much shock and as exhausted as anyone else...”

“Dora ees correct!” Fleur chimed in. “If we ‘ad all not been prepared, you and Hermione and Parvati and Jennifer might still be languishing in a cell at ‘Ogwarts - or worse,” she said darkly.

“Anyway, we oughta give things a few days - find out what Dumbledore’s planning,” Dora added.

Harry opened and shut his mouth, deflating. He knew he was fighting a losing battle. And when it came right down to it - even though he couldn’t bring himself to admit it out loud - recent weeks at Hogwarts, the eventful Friday, and the chilling effects of coming across the Wanted posters yesterday had all taken an emotional toll on him. And Hermione must be feeling even worse, he surmised when he looked into her anxious brown eyes.

“Yeah... okay,” Harry sighed. “I suppose I could use some time off from things. Alright Hermione, breakfast it is, then back to bed for a bit.” Hermione beamed, looking relieved.

Dobby bustled around the kitchen, and soon they were all digging into their favourite morning dishes - Fleur with her croissants, fruit, and coffee, and the rest munching on a proper English fry-up of a breakfast with piles of bacon, juicy bangers, fried tomato, baked beans, chips, every variety of eggs that one could think of, crumpets, toast, a pot of tea and orange juice.

Hermione was dipping her buttery crumpet into the runny yolk of her fried eggs, frowning pensively as she watched Dobby who was thoroughly pleased to be eating at the table with everyone.

“Dobby, whatever happened with Winky?” Hermione asked. “She must be miserable at Hogwarts without you to keep her company.”

“Oh! No Mistress Hermione,” Dobby squeaked. “Winky is being much happier now. She is looking after her Master again. Master Crouch is at home after being in hospital for sad people who is drinking too much. He takes Winky back and is being much nicer.”

“That’s wonderful Dobby!” Hermione beamed, squashing her discomfort with House-Elf slavery. She was just happy that Winky was feeling better. 

Harry was cheered at hearing a bit of good news, despite his own mixed feelings. “Yeah! That’s great Dobby. Tell Winky we’re both really happy for her when you see her again.”

“Yes sir, Master Harry sir,” said Dobby happily. “Winky is being pleased to hear that Mr and Mrs Potter thinks of her.” 

After breakfast, true to his word, Harry meekly followed Hermione upstairs wondering if “lie-in” was a euphemism for something else. He grinned when Hermione dispensed with a nightie after a quick shower and clambered into bed.

When Luna returned to her own room, she rummaged through her bag and found her mirror, wondering if Ginny still had hers. She lay on her bed and frowned when Ginny didn’t answer, but continued to peer into the mirror, holding out hope that eventually Ginny would reply.

Jennifer bit her lip pensively as she cuddled Daphne in their own bed, trying to think of something to distract her or cheer her up. One thing in particular occurred to Jennifer, but she and Daphne had never got beyond a bit of snogging. And frankly, Jennifer herself was anxious about taking the next step, not sure if she could handle it yet, and also afraid that Daphne might say no. She sighed and stroked Daphne’s hair, settling for just holding her close. 

Daphne lay quietly with Jennifer’s arm curled around her waist and felt her shifting, pressed against her back with nothing but a thin piece of fabric between her and the other girl. Remembering how the kiss that Jennifer had given her the night before after the evening news had made her feel, Daphne couldn’t help shivering slightly at the tingles of arousal coursing through her.

She hadn’t diddled herself in months, feeling too embarrassed to with Jennifer sharing the same quarters with her - and more often than not, the same bed. Daphne was still uncertain as to why she felt just as nice with Jennifer as she had imagined she would with a boy. Though she had to admit, there was something about Jennifer which reminded her a bit of Harry. 

Maybe her black hair? Or perhaps her hazel-green eyes, which seemed to look much more green than brown? But there was something else - something almost ineffable - something inside Jennifer, a certain boldness of spirit perhaps. Daphne was far beyond feeling shy about snogging Jennifer now, and was wondering what it might be like to go a bit further. 

Daphne was a bit scared and bashful to ask Jennifer. What if she said no? What if Jennifer freaked out because of what that creepy wizard - Wormtail - had done to her? But the more Daphne thought about it as the minutes ticked by and she felt Jennifer’s presence, felt Jennifer's warm body next to her own, the subtle fruity aroma of Jennifer’s body-wash inflaming her senses, the more Daphne became willing to take the risk.

“Er... Jennifer,” Daphne began tentatively, trying her hardest to sound as if she was just curious, “Have you ever... erm... you know... _done_ it with anyone before - boy or girl? Before... er... you know... what that horrible wizard did to you?”

Jennifer’s heart did a little flip and her breathing quickened. Was Daphne really asking what Jennifer thought she was asking... or just being inquisitive?

“Erm... just a bit really,” Jennifer replied. “I sort of let a boy I’d been hanging out with feel me up once - it was nice but we never went any further. Then there was a girl I really liked. We... er... messed around a fair bit and went pretty far. What about you?”

“Oh... er... me?” Daphne said a bit awkwardly, her heart beginning to race. “No! To be honest, I’ve never even really kissed anyone _properly_ before you. There was a boy I kissed once when I was in third year but he was seventeen - when I said I wouldn’t have sex with him he stopped halfway through the kiss and got a bit shirty with me... Then there was one other boy who kissed me, but it was really uncomfortable - I wasn’t into him. And Draco doesn’t really count because he forced himself on me...” 

Daphne trailed off, not sure how to progress the conversation without seeming too forward, but absentmindedly, her fingers brushed against the back of Jennifer’s hand - the hand attached to the arm around her waist - as if to take it and guide it to a more sensitive region. Jennifer’s hand involuntarily twitched and Daphne quickly pulled her own hand away.

“I’m sorry,” Daphne squeaked, “I didn’t mean to...”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jennifer murmured, her lips touching Daphne’s golden hair, just behind her ear. “I’m honestly not sure how far I’m up to going myself, but I expect you’ve been depriving yourself... because of me. I could at least make it up to you... if you’ll let me...”

Daphne could feel Jennifer’s hand gently caressing her, moving lower. She let out a little gasp, suddenly feeling an intoxicating surge of pleasure, thinking how nice it would feel directly against her bare skin.

“Al...alright,” Daphne panted, “I think... I think I’d like that...”

Jennifer kissed Daphne’s ear, trailing her kisses to Daphne’s neck as her hand reached further southward. Another swell of euphoria came over Daphne as she trembled at Jennifer’s touch. Daphne’s head swam, the room spinning. Somehow it felt even better than playing with herself. Jennifer heard Daphne’s squeaks and felt her shudder ecstatically, but she didn’t stop her ministrations.

Daphne had never imagined feeling so good; she quivered again as another tidal wave of bliss swept her away. Daphne lost herself to the cascading transports of delight and fell into oblivion.

The fog of ecstasy began to lift as Daphne came to, finding herself now facing Jennifer who was planting little kisses on her cheeks and lips, wrapping both arms around her, one hand behind Daphne’s head and the other pressing into the small of her back. 

Jennifer grinned when she saw Daphne returning to her senses. “So... did you like that then?” she asked.

Daphne fluttered her eyelashes and nodded, shyly grinning back. 

“Very much!” she replied. “That was the best... I’ve never... that felt great!” Daphne sighed happily, doubting that any nightmares would penetrate her shield of joy when night fell once more. “I love you Jennifer,” she murmured as they both began to drift off.

It was mid-afternoon by the time everyone had finished their naps, and they spent the rest of Sunday lounging in the parlour watching television or reading and listening to music. Luna was particularly happy when Ginny finally returned her mirror-call and assured her that all was as well as could be, all things considered.

**~o0o~**

As Andrea Mason came to, everything was black and she groggily realised that her hands were cuffed to the arms of a metal chair. Whoever had taken her, they must have drugged her. Suddenly the sack covering her head was yanked off and she blinked, blinded by a bright light. She couldn’t quite make out the figures surrounding her.

“Where’s the disk?” growled one of her captors. “The one you were going to give to the reporter!”

“You can’t do this to me,” she gasped. Now she was absolutely certain that either an MI5 or MI6 special operations unit had her. “You can’t hold me illegally...”

“I’d say we can. This is by order of the Prime Minister himself,” said another voice in more measured tones. “And if you don’t give us the location of the disk, we shall do much more than detain you. I believe you have already been informed that we have your daughter...”

Andrea heard a rustling sound and her blood ran cold when she heard the scream that followed.

 _ **“Mummy!”**_ a little girl wailed. _**“Why are they doing this to us?”**_

“Al...Alright,” Andrea pleaded, “I'll tell you where it is - just don't hurt my daughter. Let her go... please!”

**~o0o~**

Senior Undersecretary Percy Weasley arrived at the Ministry early Monday morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to start the day. He grabbed a cup of tea and a newspaper at the concession stand in the atrium before making his way to the Minister’s office.

“Good Morning Margaret,” he said to the Minister’s secretary, a bespectacled curly haired witch. 

“Mornin’ sir. The Minister’s already waiting for you in her office.”

Percy nodded curtly and pushed open the Minister’s door. He felt a growing sense of trepidation, not at seeing the Minister - he was always delighted to spend time in her company - but at what he knew he would have to do today.

“Good Morning Minister...” he began.

“Percy dear,” said the Minister sweetly, interrupting him. “Please, no formalities are necessary between us - Dolores is quite alright. We are friends after all.”

“Er... Yes, of course Min... Dolores...” Despite the initial sense of awkwardness, Percy felt a warm glow swelling within. He was slightly giddy when Dolores addressed him again.

“Are you _sure_ you’re up to the task, Percy dear? I can still assign Rookwood if you’d prefer...”

“No... No, you’re quite right Minister.” Percy shook his head. “It probably _is_ better coming from me. We should give him a chance to avoid any unnecessary unpleasantries. I’m sure he’ll talk given the right motivation.”

“Very good,” said the Minister, nodding. “I wish you the best of luck then.”

Fifteen minutes later, Percy found himself in the secret detention wing of the Department of Mysteries, staring at the door of the interrogation chamber. He took a deep breath to steady himself, hoping that sitting in a cell all weekend would have made his father open to reason.

Percy really didn’t want to do this, but his father had left him no choice. Percy’s father had always been one of Dumbledore’s staunchest supporters, and it was long past time for him to see the error of his ways. Percy had agreed with the Minister that his father might be more inclined to be cooperative with him than with any of the Unspeakable Interrogators. 

Finally feeling ready, Percy gave the heavy iron door to the chamber a push and it swung open with a groaning sound. Arthur Weasley coldly regarded his son Percy. Percy loomed over his shackled father and scowled.

“Hello Father. I hope that this little time-out has brought you to your senses.” When his father didn’t respond, Percy sighed and had another go.

“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be. I only want what’s best Father... It’s too late for Fred and George, they’ve made their bed. But I don’t want Ginny and Ron to go the same way...”

Arthur Weasley stiffened, but he still said nothing.

“Did you hear about Draco Malfoy? He was killed by Daphne Greengrass, and according to the Minister, Ginny was involved.”

 _“What?_ The Malfoy boy is dead? ” Arthur gasped in shock, finally moved to speak to his estranged son. Having been arrested the afternoon of the same day that the Unspeakables had been dispatched to Hogwarts to detain Dumbledore, he had heard no news since then. “Ginny... what’s happened to her? I suppose you've arrested her too have you?”

“No... and she’s alright for the moment,” Percy responded, pleased to have got his father talking. “The Minister won’t be seeking charges against the Greengrass girl - but that’s just politics - and the Minister is willing to let Ginny’s role in the affair go... Thank Goodness!

“But it’s really all down to Potter. Ginny’s head is still full of the Saviour nonsense you and Mum fed us all with. We know it’s really Potter who’s to blame...”

“That’s ridiculous!” spat the elder Weasley. “If Draco Malfoy is dead, then he brought it on himself, and he only has his Death Eater father to blame for bringing him up so poorly!”

“Lucius Malfoy only did what he believed was necessary to counter Dumbledore’s political meddling,” said Percy, his voice rising. “Warlock Malfoy was sick of Dumbledore undermining our wizarding heritage and promoting the dilution of our bloodlines. Yes, Warlock Malfoy acted outside the colour of authority, but the Minister and I know the truth now. We know that Dumbledore has been plotting for years to overthrow the Ministry with an army of muggles...”

“You can’t be serious - talk about filling heads with nonsense!” Arthur snorted. “That’s absolutely preposterous! You don’t seriously believe the swill the Minister has been pushing about muggles stealing wands do you? I thought you were smarter than that!”

“The Unspeakables are still working on that,” Percy admitted. “We don't know how he's doing it, but if anyone could figure out how to teach muggles to use magic, it’s Dumbledore. The man is a genius - a mad twisted genius, true - but brilliant nonetheless!

“We know that Dumbledore invented some sort of weapon which destroys dark creatures. You were at Hogwarts when Potter used it to wipe out thousands of Voldemort’s Inferi and a swarm of his Dementors - not to mention killing and injuring a horde of Giants and Mountain Trolls. We’re hoping you can tell us about that...”

“Honestly Percy, I have absolutely no idea how Harry Potter managed that.” Arthur peered at his son as if he were a three headed cat. “Dumbledore never told a single one of us how that was accomplished. I admit that the man does play some things close to the vest... but Dumbledore’s only goal has ever been the preservation of life and justice for all... wizards and muggles alike!”

“That’s not entirely true father,” Percy interrupted. “Did you know that before they had a falling out, that the Great Protector of the Muggleborn was once Gellert Grindelwald’s best friend?”

Percy noted the look of stunned disbelief on his father’s face with satisfaction and continued.

“That’s right... Dumbledore never cared a whit about muggleborn. It was all part of his grand conspiracy to take over the Ministry...”

“That’s utter nonsense! If it were true, then Dumbledore would have accepted the post of Minister when it was offered him after Voldemort fell the first time around!” Arthur snapped. “Open your eyes Percy! These are all lies! I raised you to be better than this.”

Percy sighed and shook his head, seeing that he wasn’t getting through to his father.

“You’ll say _**anything**_ to protect Dumbledore and Potter, won’t you?” Percy snarled as pulled his wand from his robes. “Well what about your _**family?**_ What about protecting _**us**_ \- protecting Ginny and Ron?” Percy’s voice rose as his blood began to boil.

 _ **“Is that why you never accepted a higher paying position in the Ministry?”**_ Percy bellowed, his face and ears turning purple. “...So that you could waste all your time helping Dumbledore promote his allegedly pro-muggle agenda? To help him pollute our gene pool and spit upon our culture? 

“So that you could perform Secret Experiments on muggle artifacts at Dumbledore's behest? You’re just as obsessed as he is with destroying the fabric of our society, and YOU had something to do with creating that Secret Weapon of his - **I KNOW IT!”**

“Come on, just admit it!” Percy growled, raising his wand. “Don’t make me do this...” 

The blood drained from Arthur Weasley’s face when he realised to what lengths his son was willing to go. He swallowed, wondering how he had managed to fail Percy so utterly. 

“Percy, please... think about what you’re doing...” Arthur began, trying to reason with his son. “You don’t have to do this...” 

“I am truly sorry that it has come to this... Father,” sneered Percy, bitter tears stinging his eyes as he pointed his wand at Arthur. “Believe me, I’d much rather not have to do this - but the Minister’s other methods of interrogation are far more damaging and potentially lethal. And despite everything between us, I would rather not see you injured - you are still family after all. 

“I was hoping that you’d see reason... It would be to the Greater Good and to your own good - to our Family’s good - if you would simply renounce Dumbledore and Potter... Tell us where they are and everything you know about the Secret Weapon...”

“Never! I don’t know, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you or the Minister!” Arthur looked at his son imploringly. “Percy, you have to know that the Minister is manipulating you - filling you with lies - she is as evil as Voldemort ever was...”

Percy peered at his father incredulously. 

“Evil? ... _Seriously?_ Let me tell you what Evil is - Father... _Evil_ is perverting and denying our wizarding heritage with your unhealthy obsession for muggles and your misguided loyalty to Dumbledore. _Evil_ is taking that obsession to such a degree that you have put our family name to shame and ruined our family financially...

“Did you know that due to your obsessions, our family’s social and political blood-status has been downgraded to ‘Questionable?’ ... Did you know that because of you, our name is a laughingstock? ... But you don’t care, do you father? You don’t care that you’ve betrayed me - betrayed us all - your family... your Blood! 

_“This is going to hurt me as much as it hurts you!_ Percy shouted as his bitter tears began falling. “I’ll give you one more opportunity Father - it’s not too late to stand up for what’s right. _**Tell us where Dumbledore and the Potters are - give up the Secret Weapon!”**_

“Percy, please...” Arthur beseeched. “Wake up before it’s too late...” 

The red arc of the Cruciatus Curse erupted from the tip of Percy Weasley’s wand, and the screams of his father echoed throughout the secret detention chambers in the Department of Mysteries.

**~o0o~**

“I’m sorry Dolores... he won’t talk!” Percy said dejectedly as he slumped in the seat before the Minister's desk. “I was so sure I could make him see reason... see how much he’s hurting the family...”

“There, there dear,” Dolores said soothingly as she patted Percy’s hand. She poured him a steaming cup of chamomile tea. “Never mind Percy - you did your best. And despite his recalcitrance, I have no wish to cause your father any great injury - he is still your family after all. I have a much better idea for achieving our goals...”

**~o0o~**

The next few days passed busily at Number Twelve for the Potters and their friends as they spent a bit of time working out a schedule to keep up with their schoolwork and continue their training. They managed to clear out one of the rooms in the basement, jamming everything except for a few statues into the other basement-room.

When it had been cleared, they strengthened the walls, floor, and ceiling, with every silencing and fortification Charm and Rune sequence that they could find in their schoolbooks and in the books in Number Twelve’s library.

It was no Room of Requirement, but by the time they had completed the task, it was adequate enough to stand up to combat spells without causing problems for their neighbours. Harry and Hermione had just finished testing a bombarda and a repairing spell on the statue upon which they had been practicing when Dora called down the stairs to the basement.

“Harry, Hermione... you two might want to come watch the WVN news yourselves. The Ministry’s supposed to be makin’ some sort of announcement.”

“Thanks Dora, we’ll be right there.”

Moments later, everyone was in the parlour in front of the Wiz-Vision. As with the previous special announcement which they had seen at Hogwarts, William O’Hannity the news-anchor introduced the Minister. But this time the impeccably groomed announcer also introduced somebody else... someone who was all too recognisable - Percy Weasley, looking as stiff as a board.

“Thank you once again for your kind introduction William,” the Minister began warmly in saccharine tones. “As I had previously mentioned I would do, in the Ministry’s bid to keep the public informed, I have returned to update you on current affairs in regards to the investigations at Hogwarts, and into Albus Dumbledore’s dirty dealings at large.”

And as before, the Minister’s voice grew stonier as she continued.

“Now that the initial investigation into the events last Friday at Hogwarts has been completed, I can reveal to you that yes - a student was killed at Hogwarts. Young Draco Malfoy - who had been set to take on the mantle of Warlock following the assassination of his father by Dumbledore’s associate, Severus Snape - was himself assassinated.”

 **“NO!”** gasped O’Hannity. “You don’t say!”

 _“Yes!”_ the Minister returned, “And as indicated in the brief Ministry release on Saturday, the evidence points to Mr Potter and his wife. They fled the scene shortly after the commission of the assassination, accompanied by none other than Fred and George Weasley, who had started a riot to cover their escape from Hogwarts.”

“Is there any truth to the rumours that muggleborn students were involved?” asked the slick newscaster.

“Not directly in regards to the assassination of young Mr Malfoy,” the Minister replied, “however, it is true that during the riot, the muggleborn students also fled Hogwarts. We believe that this was due to leaks regarding the Ministry’s next phase of the investigation into the treasonous activities of Albus Dumbledore and the muggleborn revolutionaries.

“As part of our ongoing efforts to secure the future for our ancient heritage, and to maintain Order, the Ministry is announcing the formation of the Muggleborn Registration Commission. All persons of muggle descent - those with no wizarding parentage whatsoever - who purport to be wizards, must register themselves with the Ministry so that we can closely monitor their activities, and also to determine their true magical status... or lack thereof!

“And it was with an eye towards these efforts, that the Ministry had been planning on expelling all muggleborn students from Hogwarts in any case; however, not before such a time as each and every muggleborn student could be registered, and then removed to a more fitting facility.

“Someone - perhaps one of Dumbledore’s spies in the Ministry - must have leaked advance notice at Hogwarts... The flight of the muggleborn from Hogwarts thus represents a minor setback in terms of rounding up for examination these new entrants into our magical society.

“As to our other efforts to uncover the extent of Dumbledore’s conspiracy, a purge has begun within the Ministry. I should preface this next bit to say that my deputy, Senior Undersecretary Percy Weasley, is beyond reproach - he has denounced the actions of his brothers, Fred and George Weasley.”

“It is to be understood that these young men are likely being manipulated by Albus Dumbledore, and if they turn themselves over to authorities, renounce their affiliation with the Potters and Albus Dumbledore, and throw themselves at the mercy of the Ministry, they shall receive a fair hearing, and leniency shall be shown. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the Head of House Weasley - perhaps it would be best if my Senior Undersecretary explained...”

Percy nodded at Minister Umbridge with an icy expression and took up the narrative.

“Thank you Minister, I would be delighted to...” Percy began. “Much to my great distress, my very own father - Ministry Employee, Warlock Arthur Weasley - has been determined to be one of Albus Dumbledore’s spies within the Ministry itself,” Percy said coldly. “My father has been arrested, and awaits trial. He is currently being detained in the Ministry’s holding facilities near the Wizengamot chambers.

“Due to the ongoing investigation, and the purge within the Ministry, the date of his trial has not been set. It is hoped that Warlock Weasley will be cooperative in exposing the rest of Dumbledore’s agents. Until such a time, Warlock Weasley shall remain indefinitely in detention, and be subject to interrogation.

“Now, in regards to the muggleborn insurrection, I urge all muggleborn to present themselves to the Ministry at this time for Registration. Things will go much easier for them, and all who are cooperative shall be treated fairly. However, those who are recalcitrant, and who attempt to avoid registration shall be shown no such leniency...”

Percy narrowed his eyes and his voice hardened as he spoke with even greater vehemence.

“Furthermore, given the violence and lack of regard for civilised behaviour on the part of Dumbledore’s supporters and the insurrectionists, the ban on the employment of Unforgivable Curses has been lifted for Ministry Officials.

“We will use whatever means are necessary to restore Order, and to secure the rights of those with Ancient Blood to move about freely without being subject to violent repression by those of dubious status...” Percy glanced at Dolores “...Minister, do you have anything else to add?”

“Thank you Undersecretary Weasley, I should just like to put some concerns to rest...” Dolores replied, then she turned to speak directly to the viewers in her sweetest, silkiest tones.

“Undoubtedly, the lifting of the ban on the use of Unforgivables is not without some controversy... even among those of the Ancient Houses. However, the majority of the Wizengamot has spoken in concord with the Ministry...

“And we must stress to those among the Ancient Houses who continue to harbour reservations, that this is to the Greater Good in order to preserve our ancient wizarding heritage from dilution and sabotage. I look forward to the cooperation of all... Please remember - the Ministry is here to serve you! Thank you, and good night!”

Harry gaped at the screen as moans and squeals of horror escaped from the others. Hermione gripped Harry’s arm tightly, hissing angrily.

“Bloody Hell!” Dora murmured.

“I can’t believe she actually got the ban lifted!” Parvati fumed.

“The Unforgivables - those are the Death Curse and the Torture Curse, aren’t they!?” Jennifer gasped.

“And the Imperius - the mind-control curse...” said Daphne.

Fleur and Luna sat in stunned silence, horrified expressions on their faces.

“If Percy’s alright with the Unforgivables - anything could happen to Mr Weasley,” Harry said quietly, his face ashen. Hermione glanced at Harry anxiously, sensing his cold fury growing.

“Harry... it’s probably a trap. The Minister - she knows you too well - she’s baiting us...”

“Yeah! I know...!” Harry peered into his wife’s eyes and she nodded.

“Good! Just as long as we’re all clear,” said Hermione. “So what are we going to do to rescue Mr Weasley then?”

“Ahem... Might I offer a suggestion?” said a familiar and vaguely supercilious voice belonging to someone unseen.

Harry, Hermione and the others turned in surprise to peer at the landscape painting on the wall behind the sofa.

“Er... Headmaster Black, what are you doing here?” asked Harry in bewilderment.

“Please, Phineas Nigellus is good enough... there is no need for formalities outside of Hogwarts. And this is one of the homes of my portrait after all! I am free to wander the paintings in any building my portraits reside in...”

“Oh, er... right - of course!” Harry made a mental note to remove any paintings from the bedrooms. “Sorry Headma... Phineas Nigellus!”

“In any case,” the portrait of Sirius’s forebear continued, “that brings me to my point. I have a portrait at the Ministry as well, and I can tell you - Arthur Weasley is NOT in the Ministry’s official holding facility on level ten. I have it on good information from another portrait that Arthur Weasley was last seen being escorted into the Department of Mysteries...”

“So the Minister _**is**_ baiting a trap for us then!” Hermione stated, quivering in agitation.

“Without question...” Phineas Nigellus affirmed, “however...”

“...you can get us in!” Harry interjected, his heart racing as his adrenaline began to pump. “And Dora and I can slip into the DoM in disguise to find Mr Weasley, and then we can get back out through your portrait.”

“Indeed!” the portrait said dryly. “I just happen to know of a painting very near to the DoM’s secret detention facility and the interrogation chambers. Though, if it is just the two of you, you may be at a disadvantage numerically speaking...”

“We’ll go late at night when there are less people, and Harry and Dora won’t be alone,” Hermione stated in a steely voice.

Harry peered at Hermione anxiously. The last thing he wanted was to get her captured or killed as well, but he recognised her tone of voice as one which would brook no argument. Harry supposed there was always the Disillusionment Charm; he hadn’t really had a chance to practice it yet, but he was certain he could learn it before the day was out.

“Oui, Harry shall have our support...” Fleur added as the others began to raise their own voices.

“I’m going too,” said Luna adamantly.

“Wait... STOP!” said Harry in alarm. “Okay, _**alright**_... some of you can come too, but I don’t want to risk all of us in one operation. A smaller team will be able to move faster, and draw less attention anyway....”

“And if we don’t make it back out...” Harry gulped, “whoever’s on the outside can call in the Order for backup if absolutely necessary. But I don’t want to have to get them involved if we don’t have to. It sounds like they’ve got enough to deal with as it is, facing whoever the Ministry is using to round-up muggleborns...”

“Probably the Snatchers and Death Eaters under the auspices of the Unspeakable Office...” Dora muttered. “The Aurors are most likely to continue being used mostly for traditional policing and maintaining order - though obviously they'll also have the power to arrest anyone they suspect of being muggleborn.”

“We need to work out who should take part in the rescue mission then,” said Hermione.

A babble of voices rose again, as nobody wanted to be left out. In the end, it was determined that Parvati would join Harry, Hermione, and Dora, and that Fleur would remain at Number Twelve with Daphne, Luna, and Jennifer.

“But if you’re not back within two hours, we’re coming in after you Harry,” Luna said sternly.

Jennifer and Daphne had equally determined glints in their eyes. Fleur tried her best not to smirk at Harry’s reluctant expression.

“Only if you can get some of the Order to come along as backup too though, alright?” Harry muttered. “And just to make sure, I think I’ll give Lupin and Sirius a heads-up. It’s better if the professors remain at Hogwarts.”

Moments later the Potters were peering at Sirius and Lupin’s faces in Harry’s mirror. After quickly getting the pleasantries out of the way, Harry and Hermione told them the plan.

“I should be there too,” Sirius said eagerly. “Don’t go in till I get there Harry...”

“No, Harry’s right,” Lupin interrupted, “A smaller team has a better chance of getting in and out quickly, Sirius. We’ll only stage a larger assault on the Ministry if it becomes absolutely necessary. I think it’s best if we have Hagrid, Alastor, Kingsley, and John on standby with us. If we all have to come in after you Harry, with your remaining team members, we will.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Sirius grumbled. “Right then, so what’s your timetable Harry?”

“Well, Dora reckons they’ll be expecting us tonight, in the main detention area for prisoners being held for Wizengamot trials,” Harry replied. “That seems likely to me, so we’ll wait till very late tomorrow night, and get into the Department of Mysteries using the portraits...”

“So you really _**did**_ get out of Hogwarts that way then?” Lupin gasped, sharing a startled look with Sirius.

“I have to admit Harry, Remus and I were a bit skeptical when Minerva and Filius told us that was how you had all escaped,” Sirius confessed in amazement. “Simply ingenious!”

“It’s an unheard of method for long distance travel,” Lupin added. “Historically speaking, that particular portal spell is not well-known, and it is mainly noted for allowing entrance to Secret Treasure chambers... I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it being used for escaping from or breaking into warded buildings before, either.”

“Er... really? ” Harry was a bit surprised to think that he and Hermione might be the first to come up with the idea of using the Pictura Portus spell in that manner.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything!” Sirius gazed at his godson and goddaughter-in-law with a wistful, proud expression.

“I suppose Dumbledore must think of us as a ‘Secret Treasure’ then...” Hermione giggled. “That’s where Harry and I got the idea from to begin with - the painting we access the Unaffiliated Corridor through.”

“Oho... That partly explains the Carrows being unable to locate your ‘House’ in Hogwarts then,” Sirius chortled. “According to Minerva, the Carrows and the Unspeakables have been searching the entire castle to no avail since you left. And none of the professors can seem to find it themselves either, even if they wanted to. Dumbledore must have put an unplottable charm on it as well.”

“Oh!” said Harry, “So that’s why nobody ever noticed us entering or exiting our ‘House’ once the wall went up at the end of our corridor. I always wondered why nobody seemed to see us going in and out through the portrait. But why can we and some of our other friends always find it then?”

“The Unplottable Charm must be keyed to allow only us - and whoever we invite in - to see Aphrodite’s portrait,” Hermione mused, frowning pensively.

“Ah, that makes sense. Anyway...” Harry shifted back to the main topic, “to get back to our plan - we’ll get into the Department of Mysteries tomorrow night at 2:30 AM, and we’ve given ourselves a two hour window to find Mr Weasley’s cell and break him out...”

**~o0o~**

Harry and Hermione spent the next day preparing themselves with Dora and Parvati. Harry diligently practiced the spell he’d been reading up on, and in the end, Harry managed to learn the Disillusionment Charm much faster than he’d thought he would.

Hermione sat on a stool as Harry tapped the top of her bushy head with his wand. She felt a sensation as if an egg had been broken on her head and was trickling down her body. She gasped when she held up her arm which looked just like the brick wall in front of her. In fact, she couldn’t see her arm at all.

“That’s brilliant Harry!” Hermione beamed, which Harry couldn’t see because for all intents and purposes she was invisible. “I thought I would be like a chameleon... but this is incredible.”

Grinning, Harry tapped Parvati on the head with his wand, and she appeared to vanish as well.

“Cor... that’s amazing!” said Dora. “I coulda put the Disillusionment Charm on them myself if I’d had to - but yours is the best I’ve seen. Seriously Harry... you could put Invisibility Cloaks outta business. How’d’you do that?”

“I dunno really,” said Harry, sounding surprised. “And it was much easier to learn than I thought it would be.”

“It might be that Harry simply has an affinity for that sort of magic,” said Hermione’s disembodied voice proudly. “He’s descended from one of the three Peverell Brothers, the one who made Harry’s Invisibility Cloak to begin with.”

“Wait... are the Peverell Brothers the ones from that story then?” asked Parvati’s voice. “...the Three Brothers story from _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ I mean?”

“That’s right,” piped up Hermione again. “It turns out that was just a fairy tale version. In reality the Peverell brothers invented the three items themselves.”

“So the other artifacts are real too?” gasped Dora. “Wow! I bet that wand would be somethin’...”

“Oh... er, I expect so,” said the invisible Hermione awkwardly as Harry raised his eyebrows.

“It’d be more trouble than it’s worth really,” Harry said after a pause. “Just look at what happened to the brother in the story. It didn’t end well for him.”

“That’s a good point!” the unseen Parvati agreed.

“Yeah... I suppose that’s right,” Dora said wryly. “Whoever ‘ad it would probably end up as paranoid as Mad Eye... always wonderin’ if someone was gonna murder them in their sleep to steal the wand... I think I like the cloak better!”

“Maybe we should go invisible too then Harry?” Dora mused. Harry thought about it for a moment.

“That’s not a bad idea actually,” he answered. “At least while we’re in the pictures. When we’re in the Department of Mysteries, we should probably be visible though, because we’ll have to interact with Mr Weasley. Do you still have the invisibility cloak Moody gave you?”

“Yeah, I’ve still got it,” Dora nodded. “It’s not as amazing as yours - but it’s never failed me yet.”

“Well, I suppose we’re as ready as we’ll ever be then,” Harry grinned. “I’ll just make Hermione and Parvati visible again until tonight then shall I? Er... hello? Hermione? Parvati...? Are you two still there...?”

Dora clasped her hand to her mouth and invisible giggles could be heard when Harry’s trousers dropped to the floor.

“Oi... what are you doing?” groaned Harry, standing in his boxers and turning beet red, thinking that Fred and George had been a bad influence on Hermione. “If that’s you Hermione, I am so getting you back for this...”

“Oh... you’d better get me back for this Mr Potter,” Hermione’s giggly disembodied voice whispered in his ear.

**~o0o~**

Phineas Nigellus Black’s portrait hung in the atrium, so it was only after passing through many portraits, paintings and department levels that the invisible team of infiltrators following the once-headmaster of Hogwarts found themselves in a portrait facing a corridor in the Department of Mysteries.

As the Potters and their friends would be exiting and returning the same way, they knew that they couldn’t avoid revealing at least some of themselves to the portrait of Prometheus. Harry and Dora removed their invisibility cloaks, but Hermione and Parvati remained invisible for the sake of convenience.

“Well, my journey ends here,” said Phineas Nigellus after introducing Harry Potter and his invisible wife to Prometheus. “I shall await your return and alert your compatriots should any complications arise.”

“Great! Thanks Phineas. I’m sure we’ll be back soon without any trouble,” said Harry with a confidence that he wasn’t quite sure he felt. But they’d made it this far without rousing any alarm in the Ministry, so he was hopeful that their luck would hold out.

Once again under the cover of their invisibility cloaks, Harry and Dora cautiously led the way through the stone corridors, followed closely by Parvati and Hermione. They tried a number of doors, but none of them housed the detention wing. Instead, the chambers appeared to contain many fascinating artifacts, but none were more interesting than the chamber behind a mysterious locked door. 

Dora tried the handle, then muttered “alohomora” under her breath. Still no response. 

“This has to be it,” sighed Harry, wondering how they’d manage to get in. 

In frustration he tried the handle himself. To everyone’s surprise the door swung open. But the chamber it revealed didn’t contain any cells or Arthur Weasley. In the centre of the cavernous room a vibrant glowing Orb which seemed to pulse as if it were alive hovered in mid-air near an enormous vat of liquid. 

Something about the Orb seemed too enticing to simply pass by without closer examination. Hermione felt it too - a siren call of silent song - an invitation to approach. Dora glanced around anxiously and Parvati held her breath when Harry slowly walked into the room as if in a trance, his hand apparently clutching Hermione’s invisible hand.

“We should get a move on,” Dora whispered nervously, but Harry and Hermione didn’t seem to hear.

The Orb’s luminescence pulsed even brighter, throbbing silvery violet, golden red, and blueish white - drawing Harry and Hermione even nearer. They both gasped when they felt it - a shimmering sensation of seraphic ecstasy which sent rippling tingles of static electricity and magic across their skin - its music filling their souls with a sublime joy beyond imagining.

The intensity and tone of the experience was unlike anything they’d felt outside of themselves before - yet eerily familiar. It was the same sensation they felt when practicing their Patronus Charms together in the Room of Requirement. Neither of the Potters wanted to leave the room.

Parvati and Dora both entered the room, alarm setting in, wondering if it were some sort of trap.

“Harry,” Parvati whispered worriedly. “Hermione, come on... please!” 

But the Potters still seemed too enraptured to hear. Harry felt someone grasping his arm and suddenly snapped out of it. Hermione squeaked, startled out of her reverie.

“We’ve _**got**_ to go,” said Dora quietly. “We don’t have time to waste.”

“Sorry...” said Hermione’s disembodied wobbly voice as Dora led her and Harry out of the room. “I... I’m not sure what came over us.”

Harry was still too overcome to speak; Parvati noticed that his face was wet with tears.

“What happened in there? What’s wrong?” she asked, sounding a bit panicked.

“N...nothing’s wrong,” said Harry, finally finding his voice. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re crying,” said Parvati, “and Hermione sounds like she is too.”

“Really?” Harry looked puzzled and touched his face. His eyebrows popped up in surprise when he discovered that his cheeks were wet. “I dunno... I had no idea... Hermione?”

“I don’t know either,” said Hermione, feeling her own face. 

Dora’s brows knitted thoughtfully. There was something about the scent of the liquid in the vat which seemed familiar. Suddenly it came to her.

“I can’t be certain,” she said, “but I think that must be a lab where they’re experimenting with love potions. That was a vat of Amortentia.” 

“But the Orb,” said Harry. “That wasn’t a potion - it was _real!”_

“Harry’s right,” Hermione agreed. “That was the real thing... not fake like a potion. It was an of embodiment of love so powerful that it had strong emotional effects on Harry and me. Somehow the wizard scientists must have found a way to trap the energy in some sort of magical force-field.” 

“I suppose that makes as much sense as anything,” Dora muttered. “It sure looked like something outta _Star Trek_...” Dora suddenly halted, bringing up everyone short. “Ssh,” she hissed. “There’s voices up ahead.”

**~o0o~**

One of the three Unspeakables guarding Arthur Weasley’s cell grumbled, as another shuffled a deck of cards.

“This is a ruddy waste of a good night’s sleep,” he moaned. “It’s impossible to break into the DoM.”

“And besides... nobody even knows about this detention block,” muttered another. “If Potter ever actually bothers to show up, he’ll head for the holding facility near the Wizengamot chambers with the other ‘Arthur Weasley’...”

“Haha... no doubt!” laughed the first Unspeakable. “I’d love to see Potter’s face when the polyjuice wears offa Brookstone.”

“That’s if Potter actually shows - he didn’t last night,” snorted the second. “And if he were actually able to get through more than a dozen of the Ministry’s finest, and if he actually escaped with Brookstone... What a Bloody Joke! A fifteen year old boy and his pet mudblood breaking into the Ministry?”

“You might want to be a bit more cautious,” said the Unspeakable who was still shuffling the cards. “He may just be a kid, but we still can’t figure out how he got out of Hogwarts without anyone seeing...”

“Inside help obviously!” retorted the first Unspeakable. “If I didn’t know you both so well, I’d be worried that one of you is Dumbledore’s mole...”

“Well there you go then!” the card shuffler replied. “How do we even know it’ll be Potter? Maybe Dumbledore or some of his lot will show up... it doesn’t pay to get cocky!”

The first two looked a bit uncomfortable at that.

“Well, even if Dumbledore did show up and got Weasley out, so what?” the second Unspeakable said after a pause. “It doesn’t make much difference in the long run. Everything’s a go now, and the Chief has the Wizengamot locked up in her back pocket.

“...There’s really nothin’ he could do about it beyond starting a real war against the Ministry - a full on civil war at that. He’d look like the actual villainous rebel that the Chief is makin’ him out to be - and he knows it.”

“Yeah...” agreed the first. “And anyway, if the techs did their job right, the whole point is moot - we’d find ‘im in no time. Like I said, watchin’ the real Weasley is a waste of time.”

“Is that so?” said a cold high pitched voice which made all of the Unspeakables jump out of their skins. “Perhaps you’d prefer to have a lot more time on your hands - say, to visit the Ministry’s Unemployment Services Division?”

“N...no Ma’am... Sorry Chief!”

“Really... we didn’t mean anything by it Minister! We... er... weren’t expecting either of you at the Ministry tonight...”

“That much is obvious!” the Minister snapped.

“I tried to warn them,” muttered the card shuffler.

“That’s very true! This one at least seems to have his head in the right place,” said the Senior Undersecretary in his most condescending tone.

“Too bad it won’t be for long,” the Minister giggled uncharacteristically.

“I beg your pardon Ma’am?” The card-shuffling unspeakable was utterly bewildered.

All of a sudden he had a bad feeling that something was terribly wrong. Stunning spells emerged from thin air behind the three Unspeakables, and all three of them collapsed to the floor in a heap. The Minister, short and squat as she was, loomed over the prone Unspeakables and pointed her wand at each in turn.

“Obliviate,” the Minister murmured three times. Then she and an unseen force hauled the unconscious Unspeakables back to their seats around the little table.

“I’ve found the keys,” said a disembodied voice, and a jangling key-ring festooned with keys floated out of the card-shuffling Unspeakable’s robes. “That’ll make things even easier.”

“Excellent Hermione!” said the Senior Undersecretary, who was rifling through papers, files, and pamphlets on a nearby desk. “Let’s get Mr Weasley out of here now.”

**~o0o~**

Arthur Weasley moaned as he shifted, and his iron shackles clanked. Every nerve ending in his body was on fire, his stomach hurt from lack of food, and his mouth was cracked and dry. Arthur’s jailers had fed him, but a few slices of bread had done very little to curb the hunger pangs. And the most water he’d had was when some Unspeakables had tested out a muggle torture technique on him the day before yesterday.

His foggy brain couldn’t quite remember what they had called it. For some reason he wanted to say “surfboarding,” but that didn’t seem quite right. A deep groaning sound caught Arthur’s attention, and he looked up to see the heavy iron door of his cell swing slowly open. He narrowed his eyes when he saw who it was and glared venomously at Percy.

Wait... something was wrong. Percy’s face seemed to melt and change. Arthur began to wonder if he’d finally cracked and gone loopy. That couldn’t possibly be...

“No! Impossible...” he said in a creaky voice. “It can’t be you!”

“Mr Weasley - it _**is**_ me, Harry Potter! We’re getting you out of here. Just hang on a moment...” The figure with Harry Potter’s face pointed a wand at Arthur’s shackles, and they burst open, releasing his wrists and ankles.

Arthur peered at the toad-like form next to the person claiming to be Harry Potter. He gasped when her face turned into wax and reshaped itself.

“T...Tonks, is that really you?” he gasped.

“Wotcher Arthur... it’s really me!” Tonks replied, grinning broadly. “And we’re really bustin’ you loose. Just stay quiet for a bit. And don’t mind this for now...” Tonks bound Arthur’s wrist to her own. “...that’s just so I don’t lose you on the way out, alright. Now stay quiet and watch yourself - Harry’s turnin’ you invisible, and I’m gonna put my invisibility cloak back on in a few minutes when we get to the exit...”

Arthur couldn’t believe what was happening. Tonks helped him stagger to his feet as her face changed back into the Minister’s; Harry’s features changed back into Percy’s. The next thing Arthur knew, his entire body became transparent, then vanished completely.

**~o0o~**

As the fake Minister and the invisible Parvati helped the equally invisible Arthur Weasley stumble through the corridor in the Department of Mysteries, the unseeable Hermione murmured in the fake Percy’s ear.

“Harry, that’s the room with the Time-Turners which we saw on the way to Mr Weasley’s cell, I think we should do something about it. What if...?”

“...What if the Minister thinks of using them to change what’s happening right now when she finds out that Mr Weasley’s gone? Good point Hermione,” Harry-Percy muttered in response. “I’ll set a few delayed spells in the room to go off in five minutes.”

It only took a moment for Harry-Percy to set the delayed charges: a Bombarda Maxima, a Reductor Curse, and a Confringo... Perhaps it was a bit of overkill, but Harry wanted to be certain that the job was done completely. Then they continued on, keeping an eye out for more Unspeakables as they followed behind Dora-Umbridge.

Harry walked hand in hand with his invisible Hermione, past the door which had mysteriously opened as they had strolled by ten minutes ago going the other direction. Harry-Percy glanced once more into the room at the fountain of Amortentia and shook his head with a snort. The door shut of its own accord once Harry and Hermione had passed it.

The Potters both knew implicitly that the Ministry would never understand the pulsating glowing Orb in the centre of the room which had sung out to Harry and Hermione as they had passed it previously. The Ministry’s comprehension of Love was almost as lacking as Voldemort’s. Having a vat of Amortentia at their disposal was never going to help them unlock the secrets of the Orb of Love.

“This shouldn’t be a secret, Hermione - none of this research should be. It should all be accessible to the public,” Harry whispered to his invisible wife.

“One day Harry, when we’ve dealt with the Minister...” said Hermione. “We’ll try and set all of this right.”

Finally Harry-Percy reached the portrait of Prometheus where Phineas Nigellus was waiting for them all. Harry helped the invisible Hermione clamber back into the painting. Once he was certain that Parvati, Dora, and Arthur Weasley were all inside the painting too, Harry leapt up into the frame to join them.

“Thanks for everything Prometheus...” Harry said as he slipped on his invisibility cloak.

“You are welcome Harry Potter... I am most grateful to have met you - and your charming invisible wife,” Prometheus said with a wink. “Do not worry about the abomination who calls herself the Minister... Your secrets are safe with me!”

“Yes... yes! The Potters are delightful - everyone loves them...” snorted Phineas Nigellus “...let’s get a move on...”

As Harry passed beyond the edge of the frame he heard the rumble of several explosions and knew that the Room of Time was destroyed.

Phineas Nigellus led his invisible charges through the other paintings and portraits in the Ministry - none of them the wiser - past the bored Aurors and Unspeakables guarding the corridor which contained the cell of the polyjuiced Unspeakable named Brookstone - and finally reached his own portrait. Then he walked out of the frame and disappeared from the Ministry.

**~o0o~**

Having returned to Number Twelve, Harry undid the Disillusionment Spells before climbing out of the painting, so that everyone could find their footing easily. Dora and Parvati each had Mr Weasley under an arm.

“Zey are back,” Fleur let out a huge sigh of relief when she spotted the Potters appear in the painting.

“Oh thank goodness you’re all safe...” Daphne squealed as Harry and Hermione emerged from the portrait of Phineas Nigellus.

“Here, let me help,” said Fleur breathlessly, taking the arm of the groaning Arthur Weasley from Parvati, who looked like she was about to collapse. “Mr Weasley should be in bed...”

Dora and Fleur settled Arthur into the bed in the room nearest to Number Twelve’s library. Moments later Daphne and Luna arrived with fresh water, towels, washcloths, and medical supplies.

“Just sips Mr Weasley...” Daphne said worriedly as Arthur tried to gulp from the glass of water she was holding for him. “Too much all at once could make you throw up!”

“Does anyone know a good healing spell?” Luna asked as she dabbed Arthur’s sore, bleeding wrists with a wet cloth.

Dora fumbled for her wand, puffed as she was from hauling Mr Weasley back to Number Twelve with Parvati, but Fleur already had her own wand in hand. Fleur muttered the incantation and the bloody marks left by the iron shackles faded from Arthur’s wrists. Luna began to dab at Mr Weasley’s feverish sweaty brow instead as Daphne put the empty glass of water down and tipped a pain potion and a calming draught into his mouth.

“Will he be alright?” Jennifer asked anxiously as she peered around Harry, Hermione, and Parvati in the doorway.

“He should be now...” gasped Harry with a nod, still panting as his pumping adrenaline began to subside.

“...but it might be a few days,” continued Hermione, her glistening eyes full of concern. “He’s clearly been neglected and tortured...”

“Probably the Cruciatus Curse, and who knows what else...?” Harry muttered angrily.

“Eeek!” Parvati squealed and jumped, bristling when Dobby startled everyone, suddenly appearing with a loud crack.

“Dobby takes over now,” squeaked the eager House-Elf, who appeared to be holding a tureen of broth and a ladle. He set it down on the bedside table and took the damp wash-cloth from Luna to dab Mr Weasley’s forehead himself.

“Are you certain?” Fleur asked dubiously.

“Dobby knows what to do, Mistress Fleur - Dobby is looking after many sick people before. House-Elves is knowing how to do some healing... Master and Mistresses must get their rest now.”

“It’s alright Fleur,” said Harry, grinning for the first time since his return. “Mr Weasley is in good hands.”

“Master Harry and Mistresses must go now - must eat and rest after long day. Dobby leaves midnight snack in the kitchen...” Dobby said, giving everyone a stern look.

Feeling much more cheerful, everyone began to realise that they were indeed famished, as nobody had been able to eat much all day, and gradually they all filed down the stairs to find the “midnight snack,” discovering that Dobby had indeed prepared for a triumphant return. On the table in the kitchen they found trays loaded with crackers, cheeses, sausage rolls, and crisps, and a variety of olives and dips next to bottles of butterbeers.

The Potters and their friends picked up the heavily laden trays and retired to the parlour. But before regaling the others with the details, Harry made a very important mirror-call.

“You’ve got Arthur? Excellent!” Sirius beamed after Harry had informed him of their successful mission. “How did it go? You have to tell me everything...”

“Later Sirius,” Lupin admonished Sirius with a grin. “Let Harry rest for now - he can fill us in on the details tomorrow...”

Finally slumping in an armchair, Harry took a deep swig from a bottle of Butterbeer while Hermione, Dora, and Parvati regaled the others with the full story. Luna held her sides, in stitches from laughing so hard as she rolled around on the floor.

“That’s f...funny - ‘more time... to v...visit... Ministry’s Unemployment Services Division’ --Hahahahahaha...!”

“Mind you, the Unspeakable probably _will_ be looking for a new job when the real Minister discovers that Mr Weasley’s gone in a few hours,” Parvati chortled.

“Anyway,” Dora continued, roaring with laughter herself, “My favourite bit was when Harry said, ‘This one at least seems to have his head in the right place’... ‘e sounded just like that pompous prat, Percy Weasley...”

“I almost lost it when the one Unspeakable said that they weren’t expecting you two - and Dora retorted ‘That much is obvious’....” Hermione giggled.

Daphne and Jennifer both had tears of laughter in their eyes and Fleur was giggling too. It was nearly 4:30 in the morning, but sleep appeared to be an impossibility for the near future. After the giggles died down, the muggle television was turned on and beams of sunlight were pouring through the window before the lot of them fell asleep on the sofas and the armchairs in the parlour.

**~o0o~**

**_“Gone?_** What do you mean Arthur Weasley is gone?” fumed Minister Umbridge. “I just came from the Detention Centre - and Brookstone is still there.”

“N...no Minister... I m...mean the r... _real_ Arthur Weasley is gone!” stammered the Unspeakable “I...I was s...sitting outside his cell all night with the other g...guards. We o...opened his c...cell t..to do a morning check... and he was just... gone. And...and th...the T...T...Time Room. It’s utterly destroyed!”

The Unspeakable led the Minister to the Room of Time and she stared at the smouldering, twisted wreckage. The time-turners, the hour-glasses, the bell jar, the clocks - all demolished. Nothing was left but the mangled, blackened innards of Brass clockwork, scattered sand, shards of glass, and charred splinters of wood.

“But that’s _**impossible!”**_ the Minister snarled. “There is no indication that the Ministry was breached last night. There is absolutely no sign of entrance at all.”

Dolores Umbridge rubbed her forehead, feeling a migraine coming on. The Time Room was a dead loss, but maybe the Weasley situation could still be salvaged.

“What about the Experimental Tracking Spell? Is it working?”

“That was the first thing we checked. B...but no! If Arthur Weasley travels, we might be able to get a hit. But if he’s inside of a warded home with Unplottable and Fidelius Charms - we still haven’t managed to crack those yet.”

“Right then!” Dolores snapped, “Tell the next watch to keep their eye on the tracking monitor. Weasley will probably have to travel at some point. We’ll track him then! Hopefully he’ll lead us to Dumbledore or the Potters when he does move.”

Still seething with rage, the Minister thought it best to take the rest of the day off and dose her migraine heavily with pain potions and calming draughts. Dolores couldn’t afford to let her anger get the better of her, but her last Potter induced hangover had truly been dreadful and she had no desire for a repeat.


	59. On the Run

The Potters and their friends stirred at the sound of loud noises outside, waking up well after noon following their late night at the Ministry. The dismal grey light entering the Parlour suggested the possibility of rain again. Hermione peered out of one of the Parlour’s windows; she heard and felt the heavy thumping which indicated the presence of a sound system and an illegal street party nearby. But nothing could be seen.

“What’s going on?” asked Daphne, trying to look out of the window too.

“I think it’s a Take Back the Streets protest,” Hermione replied. “There was one in this part of London earlier in the summer...”

“But it’s cold and drizzly,” said Parvati, looking puzzled. “It’s almost winter.”

“When people think something’s important enough to protest, a little bit of rain won’t stop them,” said Luna. “If it weren’t so dangerous to protest against the Ministry now that they’ve ended the ban on Unforgivable Curses and want to arrest Harry and Hermione, I expect we’d all be out there too.”

Hermione nodded in agreement, her chest tightening. After some time had passed, just as they were finishing up a late breakfast, the sound of wailing sirens could be heard. His curiosity finally getting the better of him, Harry turned on the television to see if there was any news coverage of whatever was happening the next block over. 

Sure enough, BBC news was at the scene which appeared to be erupting into chaos as police in heavy riot gear surged into the crowd swinging their truncheons. Harry’s jaw clenched when he also saw what looked like armed police units taking up strategic positions, including snipers on rooftops.

“...and the protests which began in the Borough of Islington are escalating rapidly and spreading into business districts as police respond with force,” a news announcer was saying. “What initially began as a relatively peaceful action by Take Back the Streets of the sort seen in July, was joined by groups protesting the current policies of the Prime Minister and his party. 

“The recent austerity measures and cutbacks imposed by both government institutions and private corporations has brought together a diverse crowd of ecological activists, ravers, students protesting budget cuts, and union and health-care workers. 

“Government officials including the Prime Minister and the Metropolitan Police are claiming that Black Bloc Anarchists and a faction of the IRA are behind the protests, despite the lack of supporting evidence. Protesters point out that there was no violence until the police arrived. 

“The use of special tactical police units to suppress the protesters is being called into question by both Labour and Liberal members of parliament, and even a few conservative MP’s are expressing some reservations. But officials claim the units are necessary to prevent terrorist actions...”

“Bloody ‘ell!” Dora gasped when police began firing tear gas canisters. “It looks like a bloody war-zone out there.” 

“I wonder...” Harry muttered, scowling.

“What? ... What are you thinking Harry?” Hermione peered at her husband, wondering if the same thoughts were running through his mind.

“I wonder if somehow this is all connected, Hermione,” Harry responded. “The timing just seems a bit odd, don’t you think? I mean, if the PM and the Minister of Magic are colluding...”

“...maybe they’re both taking the opportunity to crack down at the same time,” Hermione continued. “There’s no way to be certain, but you’re right - it does seem to be a bit too convenient to be entirely coincidental...”

**~o0o~**

The drizzle had turned into a downpour and Clara Dawson was drenched. Panicked, she pushed her way through a crowd of protesters, doing her best to avoid direct confrontation with the police while looking for her sister and Warren.

Clara, Gemma, and Warren had been among those who had showed up earlier for the Take Back the Streets party. The atmosphere had been festive with the dance music playing from the sound system on the back of a truck covered with a tarp, despite the miserable drizzly weather.

Even when the protesters from other groups had started arriving, the mood had still been one of exuberance, an exhilarating feeling of shared experience - of solidarity in the face of those who would deprive society of that which made life worth living. Then the police had arrived. 

At first, despite the anxiety that began to sweep through the gathered, it seemed as if the police were just there to keep the peace and make sure that things didn’t get out of hand. Then, out of nowhere - later some would say that they had seen them emerging from police vans marked with the insignia of the special tactics units - a small group of perhaps fifteen or twenty masked individuals dressed all in black hurled a few bricks through windows.

The “response” of the police had been swift; but instead of going after the masked men in black - who were left to run around unchecked and throw a few molotov cocktails and more bricks - the police in riot gear stormed the crowd of protesters and started whacking at them with their truncheons. 

Bloodied people fell in the streets. Several burly union workers set upon a police officer beating on a teenage girl. All hell broke loose as the rain began coming down in buckets and tear gas canisters were fired into the throng. 

Gemma had somehow been separated from her sister and swept away by the scattering crowd when the tear gas canisters began to rain down on them. For a split second, Clara was certain that she saw her younger sister being roughly shoved into the back of a police van. Terrified and angry, Clara pelted across the street, splashing through puddles, dodging bottles and batons, trying desperately to reach her sister. But she didn’t get far; a strong hand grabbed her arm. She whirled around, balling her fists.

“It’s me...” gasped Warren as he dragged his friend towards the pavement on the other side of the street. “Come on... We gotta get out of here Clara!”

“Not without Gemma!” shouted Clara, rivulets of rainwater dripping from her soggy hair.

“It’s too late!” said Warren. “The coppers already nicked ‘er - I saw it. She’ll be alright... we’ll bail her out tomorrow. But it won’t do ‘er any good if we get nicked too!”

Clara was torn. The only thing that mattered was saving Gemma, but Clara had to admit that Warren was making sense. Clara glanced back at the police van one last time before allowing Warren to lead her into an alley away from the mayhem...

**~o0o~**

Hermione returned to the Parlour after cleaning her teeth, thinking that she and Harry could both use a shower and a change into clean clothes. But she only spotted Luna and Daphne still watching the television, as the others had apparently all been thinking the same thing.

“Do either of you know where Harry is?” asked Hermione, wondering if he had just thrown himself back into training in the basement.

“I think he’s in the library,” said Daphne.

“That’s right,” Luna replied, nodding. “And Dora and Fleur are looking in on Mr Weasley.”

Hermione made her way to Number Twelve’s library, where she found him poring over documents.

“Oh, Hi Hermione...” Harry looked up from the table and smiled when he heard her enter the room, but Hermione could sense Harry’s somber mood.

“Hi Harry...” Hermione murmured, returning Harry’s smile with a sad one of her own. “Are those from the Ministry?” she asked.

“Yeah...” Harry replied, “I spotted these pamphlets and files on a desk in the Department of Mysteries while you and Parvati and Dora were dealing with the guards. I used that Gemino spell that we found in the really advanced Charms book we brought from Hogwarts to replicate the documents, and I shoved them in my bag before we got Mr Weasley...”

“How bad is it then?”

“Not good Hermione!” Harry sighed, running his fingers through his messy black hair. “Not good at all... We’ll have to find some way to get these files to the Order. They should be useful to Dumbledore in building a case against the Minister. It looks like Minister Umbridge and the Operations Division of the Unspeakable Office has had a lot of what’s going on now in the works for a long time. 

“They must have been planning this even long before Voldemort came back - since at least the beginning of our Second Year at Hogwarts if not earlier! Fudge can’t have known about it though. They’ve been building secret facilities all over Britain - unfortunately they’re unplottable, though there are at least general locations. There’s a big one in Wales for example.”

Hermione picked up one of the pamphlets from the table, and her eyes widened in shock.

“Yeah... that’s a publication they’re producing for general consumption,” Harry muttered darkly. “If that’s the stuff they’re actually telling the public, then you can bet that whatever they’re doing at the secret facilities is much worse... Look on page Nine!”

Hermione’s breath quickened and as she flicked through the pages of the pamphlet, _Mudbloods, and the Dangers they Pose to a Peaceful Pureblood Society_. She bit her lip, her eyes filling with tears when she found page Nine.

 _“Mudblood Relocation Programme?”_ Hermione squeaked; her voice quavered and she began to shake. “These are just like concentration camps. This is h...horrible... I c...c...can’t believe that she’d g...g...go this far!”

Harry could see that Hermione was starting to hyperventilate, something that she hadn’t done since the day she’d found out that she was going to be put on trial along with Harry for destroying the Dementors.

“Here,” said Harry, “swallow this...” He picked up one of the vials of calming draught which he had placed on the table, anticipating this eventuality, and tipped it into her mouth.

“I know...” Harry whispered as he held Hermione tightly and kissed her forehead as tears trickled down her pink cheeks. “...it’s like Nazi Europe and Grindelwald all over again - except in Britain this time. I had a bad feeling it was going this way...”

“What’s goin’ on in here?” asked Dora, who had just poked her head in the doorway of the library, holding a tea-tray. Hermione swallowed, feeling a bit calmer.

“We were just looking at some of the documents that Harry found in the Ministry,” she replied.

“You should probably put that tray down before you look at this stuff,” Harry warned. “There’s more calming draughts here if anyone needs one,” he added when he spied Fleur and Jennifer behind Dora.

Dora picked up the file marked Dick Turpentine after setting down the tea-tray carefully.

“Looks like you and Hermione were right,” she muttered. “They made this bloke up outta whole-cloth. They’ve just had some polyjuiced Unspeakables stealing wands, pretendin’ to be him and a gang of muggleborn...”

“We have to get this lot to Dumbledore somehow,” said Hermione, “but we can’t send it with Hedwig or via the floo, even if we knew where he was. It’s too risky.”

“I could take it and apparate and meet up with someone - Shacklebolt maybe,” Dora suggested.

“I was thinking the same thing,” said Harry. “But I spoke to Sirius and Remus a few minutes ago - they think we should all lay low for a bit until Mr Weasley’s well enough to travel. They said Dumbledore is in France at the moment, and that they’d work something out the moment he gets back...”

“Sirius and Professor Lupin are right about laying low, Harry...” Everyone turned to see Luna at the entrance of the Library, her face pale. “You’d better see what’s happening on the BBC,” she continued. “Quickly! It’s not good...” 

Everyone made a mad dash for the Parlour where the BBC news announcer was continuing with the latest updates regarding the ongoing unrest in the streets of London. Hermione squeaked in distress, gripping Harry’s arm tightly when she saw the bright green eyes, the unkempt black hair, and the lightning shaped scar. The others all gasped in horror and Harry groaned, rubbing at his forehead.

“...continuing investigations into what and who sparked the ongoing riots in London appear to have been traced by government officials to a young man with alleged ties to the terrorist associated with the most intransigent elements of the IRA - Sirius Black - who is alleged to have been responsible for the Old Trafford Stadium attack. 

“Harry James Potter - alleged to be the godson of Sirius Black - is wanted for questioning related to credible bomb threats placed during the riots - possibly instigated by Sirius Black himself - which has just now been confirmed by Scotland Yard officials. 

“In denying the rumours that the police themselves are responsible for the Anarchist elements suspected of precipitating much of the violence, a Scotland Yard Spokesman suggested that Harry Potter is one of the key organisers who brought together several groups previously associated with Black Bloc activities, and who have apparently infiltrated groups known generally as advocating peaceful protest such as Take Back the Streets. All members of Take Back the Streets taking part in the riots are also currently being sought for questioning...”

“Fuck!” Harry exclaimed, sounding more resigned than anything. “I should’ve bloody known this was coming...”

**~o0o~**

Shivering from cold and fright, heart thumping as she ran, her sodden clothes clinging to her skin, for a brief moment Clara thought that she and Warren had escaped the police. Rounding a corner into another wet alleyway, Clara suddenly realised that she had lost Warren. Panicking, she spun around to see him in the clutches of two armed policemen in special operations gear.

 **“RUN!”** Warren screamed at her. Clara hesitated for a moment. **“GO... GET OUT OF HERE! NOW!”**

Clara bit her lip, turned and ran for it. Amazingly, she managed to find her way through the maze of alleyways and emerge, gasping for air, onto a London street untouched by the riots. She swept aside the wet hair clinging to her cheeks and eyelashes from her face, looking around wildly, spying a red phone box nearby.

Not knowing what else to do, Clara darted into the phone box and slammed shut the door. For a few minutes she just leaned back against the glass door and sobbed. Finally beginning to calm down, Clara considered her options. She was too frightened to go home by herself, and there seemed little point in ringing her parents who lived in Chippenham. 

Then she remembered the sweet old hippie she’d met in the London nightclub. He had said to give him a ring if she was ever in trouble. Clara wasn’t sure if he could really do anything to help, but there was something about him, something reassuring. She supposed that Mr Dumbledore might have some experience with this sort of thing, having passed through the protests of the 60’s and 70’s unscathed.

Hands shaking badly, Clara fumbled in her purse for the card he had given her and some change for the phone. Holding the telephone receiver to her ear with her shoulder, the card in one hand, she tried inserting the coins into the slot with the other. She cursed when several coins slipped from her fingers and clattered to the pavement. 

Ignoring the coins on the ground, Clara reached into her purse again for more change. This time the coins successfully slid into the coin-slot. 

“Please pick up...” she muttered to herself, “Please pick up...” Clara gasped with surprise and relief when there was a click and she heard the comforting voice on the other end.

**~o0o~**

Albus Dumbledore peered worriedly at the television in the Paris hotel room in which he and Elphias were staying, watching the London riots unfold and seeing Harry’s face on the screen. Albus felt torn; he knew that he needed to get back to England quickly, but he still had business to conduct in Europe - in the uppermost corner of Norway, somewhere to the northeast of Lille Havvannet lake.

Picking up his mirror to call Harry, Dumbledore wasn’t surprised at all that he could already hear someone muttering. But he was quite surprised when he saw the features of someone who didn’t look like Harry or his wife, or any of their friends. The viewing angle and the fact that the individual couldn’t see Dumbledore herself, suggested that the call was from a telephone - from a telephone box in London to be precise...

**~o0o~**

Hands trembling slightly with anxiety, Hermione peered into the mirror which she had picked up from a coffee table in the Parlour and called out Dumbledore’s name while everyone else was still glued to the television and wondering if it would have any more information regarding the false accusations against Harry.

Hermione frowned when Dumbledore didn’t respond right away, supposing that she couldn’t expect Dumbledore to be available at a moments notice. But she held onto the mirror and stared into it hopefully anyway. Hermione’s hope was rewarded when a few minutes later comforting blue eyes peered back at her.

“Professor Dumbledore,” she gasped, “Thank goodness! It’s really awful...”

“Yes! Quite!” Dumbledore replied. “I am watching the current events on French television at this very moment. Though it is imperative that you all remain out of sight for the time-being, I am afraid that there is another pressing matter that will require Harry and Nymphadora’s special talents...”

“Harry!” Hermione called out, “I’ve got Dumbledore...” 

“Professor... Good to see you,” said Harry, relieved to see Dumbledore looking as well as could be under the circumstances. “I suppose you want us to all to hole up for a bit until we work out a plan.”

“Indeed,” said Dumbledore with a sigh, “That would be for the best. However, there is a matter of great urgency with which I need your assistance, as I will be engaged in Europe for another day or two...” 

“Sure... Of course sir! Anything!”

“Very good! Thank you Harry! There is someone who very much needs looking after. I would like you to meet her in Trafalgar Square in half an hour and provide her accommodation until I can return and extract her along with Arthur Weasley when he has recuperated enough for travel. The young woman in question is non-magical, but for the moment the Statute of Secrecy is the least of our concerns...”

**~o0o~**

The umbrellas provided less protection from the elements than one could have hoped for, which was a shame as the wind had risen, driving the icy rain at an angle. It was only midafternoon, but one wouldn’t know it as the sun was well hidden behind the nearly black rain-clouds. Only the hardiest of pigeons and tourists remained in Trafalgar Square; the rest had all wisely taken shelter under eaves or in hotel rooms.

The two young women under the umbrellas looked around under Nelson’s column, spying a girl who didn’t look any older than them shivering under one of the bronze lions. She was the only one without an umbrella and looked like a drowned rat.

“That’s gotta be ‘er, don’t you think?” said Dora, who didn’t look at all like herself. 

Harriet nodded. “Yeah... I think you’re right. Brown hair... blue coat...”

“Poor thing!” Dora muttered. “That coat must be soaked through.”

Taking a nervous glance around, Harriet tentatively approached the thoroughly drenched girl while Dora kept a sharp eye out for any potential threats. The girl looked just as anxious to see a stranger nearing her.

“Er... are you Clara?” asked Harriet; the girl hesitated as rivulets of water streamed from the bedraggled ends of her hair. “It’s okay, Dumbledore sent me,” Harriet reassured her, “I’m Harriet... Harriet Potter.” 

“Oh thank God!” Clara heaved a huge sigh of relief before sneezing violently. “Y... yeah, I’m Clara.”

“Great!” said Harriet, peering at Clara sympathetically. “Let’s get out of here then. That’s Dora... she’s with me.”

After brief introductions, Dora hailed a passing taxicab. The cabbie seemed a bit reluctant to drive to Islington at first, but after a quick radio-call to his dispatcher he was reassured that the riots near that part of London were by and large over, dispelled by police and rain. Nevertheless, Clara slunk down in her seat when they passed through the streets of Islington. 

The cabbie let them all out at Number Eleven Grimmauld Place, then drove away shaking his head at the oddity of the numbering. Harriet hesitated a moment before saying anything; Dumbledore had left the task of informing Clara about wizardry to her once they had reached Number Twelve, not wishing to alarm Clara by seeming completely mental over the phone.

“You gotta be the one to tell ‘er Harriet,” said Dora. Harriet nodded and took a deep breath.

“Er... I know this will seem a bit weird,” Harriet told Clara, “but we’re at Number Twelve...”

“Are you joking? There’s no Number Twel...” Clara’s expression altered from one of bewilderment to one of shock when the space between Number Eleven and Number Thirteen expanded, revealing a terraced house which hadn’t been there moments before.

“B...b...but how... what...?” she stammered.

“We’ll explain inside,” said Harriet. “I promise, it’ll all make sense...”

Unnerved, Clara followed Harriet and Dora into the strange house. Dora took her wet coat and hung it on the rack. Clara swallowed anxiously when she was led downstairs to a kitchen, but her trepidation lessened considerably seeing another girl, younger, with a mass of unruly tawny brown curls.

“Oh... you poor thing,” said the bushy haired girl. “You’re soaked to the bone. Come upstairs with me and we’ll find you some clean dry clothes. I’ve got some which will fit you. I know you’re closer to Dora’s age, but you’re about the same size as me. Dora and Harriet will make some hot cocoa while we find you some things. By the way, I’m Hermione... Hermione Potter.”

Clara tried to follow everything the younger girl was saying as all of her words tumbled out in a rush. But Clara definitely made out the last bit.

“Oh,” Clara responded, “Are you Harriet’s sister then?”

“No!” Hermione Potter giggled, shaking her head. “I’m Harriet’s wife...”

Clara gasped and peered back and forth between Harriet and Hermione. Harriet’s face reddened. 

“Erm...” said Clara, not sure what seemed odder: two girls being married... not that Clara had any qualms about two girls being together - she’d messed around experimentally a bit with a friend herself - but as far as she knew, same-sex marriage was illegal in Britain... or the fact that one of them seemed a bit too young to be married.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” said Hermione. “You’ll catch your death of cold if you stay in those wet clothes any longer... if you haven’t already caught cold,” Hermione added when Clara sneezed.

Clara had a good look around as Hermione led her up several flights of stairs, thinking that everything looked rather posh, considering that it looked like an ordinary terraced house from the outside. It also appeared much bigger on the inside than ought to be possible. 

As she toweled off in Hermione’s (the Potters’?) bathroom, while Hermione rummaged in the bedroom cupboards and drawers for clothes, Clara listened to Hermione’s explanations with one ear. Clara wasn’t quite sure what to believe about magic, despite having seen a house appear out of nowhere, but even the one thing which was at least in the realm of possibility still struck her as very odd.

“Wait, you mean Harriet’s actually your age and a guy?” Clara asked, her head spinning as she tried to wrap her mind around things when Hermione passed her some clothes through the cracked open door. “I mean... he’s much prettier than most blokes in drag...”

“Harriet’s actually almost a year younger than me,” Hermione responded, “and at the moment Harriet really _**is**_ a girl in all ways you can think of - and she aged herself up a bit to meet you...”

Sure enough, when Clara entered the Parlour she was stunned to see a boy with messy black hair who looked similar to the girl she had just met, sitting on a settee next to a roaring fire. At that moment Clara was convinced that everything Hermione Potter had said was true. Harry Potter’s impossibly green eyes were exactly the same as Harriet’s, too pretty to be a boy’s eyes really.

“We’ll introduce you to the others in a bit,” said Hermione as Clara settled into a comfy armchair as close to the fire as possible. “I just thought it might be a bit overwhelming for you to meet us all at once...”

**~o0o~**

Arthur Weasley blinked and the smiling faces came into focus. For the first time in he didn’t know how long, Arthur felt lucid and it no longer hurt to move. As he shifted, he realised that he was in a comfortable clean bed. He really hoped this wasn’t a dream.

“Mrs Potter, Harry, Tonks - is it really you? Is this real? You really did get me out then?”

“Yeah Arthur,” said Dora with a grin, fluorescing her hair violet so that he would know it was really her. “You’re really outta that hellhole!”

“It’s really us Mr Weasley!” Hermione smiled sadly at him and squeezed his hand comfortingly.

“Hi Mr Weasley... How are you feeling?” asked Harry, looking concerned.

“Much better... Thank You!” Arthur replied, still feeling a bit confused. “But... but I can’t imagine how on earth you managed to break into the Ministry - the Department of Mysteries especially - and set me free... Where are we?”

“You’re in Number Twelve Mr Weasley,” said Harry, his features broadening into a smile as Arthur sat up properly in bed without wincing. “In any case, we had a little ‘inside help’ from Phineas Nigellus...”

Arthur still felt a bit puzzled, but something important forced its way into his mind.

“H...how long have I been here?” he asked, suddenly becoming alarmed.

“Three days - you’ve been either asleep or delirious for three days Mr Weasley,” Hermione responded. She gave Arthur’s hand another squeeze. “We’ve been really worried about you.”

 _ **“Three days?”**_ Arthur gasped, crestfallen. “You’ve got to get out of here! I can’t believe they haven’t stormed the place yet - they put an Experimental Tracking Spell on me - supposed to be detectable through Fidelius and Unplottable Charms...”

“It can’t be workin’ properly then.” Dora frowned worriedly and glanced at Harry and Hermione. “I mean, we’re still ‘ere and nothing’s happened.”

“But... but they could still be working on it...” Arthur groaned.

Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead, peering anxiously at Hermione. “Bloody hell! I was just getting used to the idea of holing up here for a bit! I dunno... what do you think Hermione? Is it worth the risk, us staying?”

“I... I really don’t know Harry - not for certain. We might be alright... but if they’re still working on the other end of it - who knows? It might be best for us to leave...”

“But where would we go...?” moaned Dora.

“We... we could go to my place for a bit,” said a small voice from the doorway. Everyone turned to look at Jennifer.

“It’s in Dorset - in the countryside near Corfe Castle...” Jennifer continued, looking disturbed. “I’m pretty sure the Ministry doesn’t know about it, because I remember Dumbledore talking about keeping everything th...that... that happened there a secret.”

Everyone was quiet and Hermione’s brows furrowed as she tried to gauge Jennifer’s emotional state. “Are you sure Jennifer?” she gently asked. “You did go through rather a lot there.”

“I... I think I can manage!” Jennifer responded. “And I... I think I need to go there anyway... to really face up to things - to Mum and Dad being gone. And... and there’s loads of room for all of us - it...it’s really nice.” Jennifer peered at Harry almost pleadingly.

Harry felt a surge of emotion as he looked into Jennifer’s pooling eyes, and even though he no longer really believed in the House system at Hogwarts, he knew that if Jennifer had been sorted, she would have been in Gryffindor.

He swallowed and blinked back tears, knowing that one day he needed what she needed - closure. With the world in turmoil, Harry had been putting it off - he really hadn’t had a good opportunity. But he had known that one day, he needed to go to Godric’s Hollow... to go home and put the ghosts of his own past to rest. Hermione took Harry’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“Yeah... alright Jennifer!” Harry agreed with a nod, his voice hoarse. “We’ll do that then. We should get packing - we’ll go as soon as we’re ready.” Harry glanced back at Arthur who looked very relieved. “I suppose we’ll head out when you’re ready to meet Dumbledore, Mr Weasley...”

Arthur Weasley readied himself to go and was surprised to find a muggle girl among the Potters’ friends when they had all gathered in the foyer of Number Twelve. 

“This is Clara Dawson,” said Tonks, by way of introduction when she passed him the bag containing all the intelligence that Harry had collected from the Ministry. “Shacklebolt’s gonna be with Dumbledore when you meet up. He’ll get ‘er to another safe-house... In fact, I got Dumbledore on the mirror for you to explain things... You can keep it - it’s a spare.”

“What? Oh... er... yes of course,” Arthur took the mirror from Tonks and peered at Dumbledore’s grave features. “I must say, you’re a welcome sight for sore eyes Albus.”

“Indeed,” said Dumbledore. “And I am quite pleased to see you looking well Arthur, no worse the wear given your ordeal in the hands of the Minister. Now, to business. I take it you recall the safe-house in Waltham Cross?” 

Arthur nodded. 

“Very good,” Dumbledore continued. “I would like you to bring along Miss Dawson by side-along apparition. As Tonks has said, Kingsley will collect her straight away. Once they have safely gone, I shall deal with the Tracking Spell before you and I depart from the Waltham Cross safe-house. Is everything clear?”

“Quite clear, Albus,” said Arthur, nodding again. “I’ll see you momentarily then.” 

Dumbledore’s features faded from the mirror and Mr Weasley turned towards the Potters and their friends. “Again... I can’t thank you all enough for the rescue and looking after me. Now, with a bit of luck, we’ll all make it to safety. Bye for now then...”

“And thanks loads from me too,” said Clara, giving the Potters and Dora a quick hug goodbye.

“I hope Dumbledore can help you find your sister and your friend,” said Harry.

“Good luck!” Hermione added. 

Harry and Hermione watched Mr Weasley step out through the front door onto the concrete top step with Clara and vanish before following suit with their friends.

**~o0o~**

The wispy pink clouds caught the rays of the setting sun as the sky turned purple above the copses of beeches, willows, and evergreens encircling the overgrown lawns and gardens of the Elizabethan manor house at the top of the hill.

Glad that it wasn’t raining as it had been much of the week, everyone stood in awe of their new surroundings as the cold evening breeze brought with it the smell of the sea. Stretched out around them was a patchwork vista of rolling meadows, farms, and woodland, and the steeples of village churches in the distance.

“Wow... this is amazing Jennifer!” Dora’s jaw dropped at the sight. “I ‘ad no idea you were this well off.”

“You have a lovely home Jennifer!” Luna said quietly, her wide eyes drinking in the beauty of the estate.

“It’s gorgeous!” squeaked Parvati.

“Très magnifique!” Fleur gasped.

“What a beautiful view!” said Daphne breathlessly. “I can see the ruins of a castle in the distance one direction and the sea in the other...”

Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry, sighing happily as they peered at the familiar sight of the ruined castle, both remembering the day they had spent there two summers ago.

“The ruins... That’s Corfe Castle,” Jennifer replied, blushing, feeling a bit embarrassed by the opulence and grandeur of the estate. “The house is probably a mess inside though... after...” she trailed off, her eyes stinging.

“We’ll make it feel nice again Jennifer... I promise!” Daphne embraced Jennifer tightly, growing a bit teary herself. “We’ll make some new happy memories for you here!”

**~o0o~**

“Ma’am, I’ve got a ping...”

“What?”

“Arthur Weasley - I’ve got a ping. It’s not precise, but somewhere in the Borough of Islington. He must have stepped outside of the wards to apparate.”

“Can you narrow it down before he disapparates again?” The Unspeakable Operations Division Shift Supervisor began to get excited. This could be the break they were looking for.

“Working on recalibration now Ma’am... I don’t think I can get an accurate current location. But I think I can get enough of a lock on him so that we can pinpoint his reapparition more easily. There... _Gah!_ He’s gone...”

“Damn!” swore the Supervisor, “keep a close watch on the map. Maybe we’ll get lucky...”

“He’s back Ma’am... There ‘e is! Blimey! Much better... I’ve got a general street location - just outside of London in Waltham Cross. He’s just gone inside an Unplottable though Ma’am, maybe a Fidelius as well - I still can’t quite penetrate those... maybe...” 

The Unspeakable Tech fiddled with the equipment and sighed. “If he steps outside to apparate again, I’ll ‘ave another chance to recalibrate... the next place, I think we’ve got him for sure!”

“Excellent... good work! Keep an eye on him. Keep working on those Charms - I’ll send a team to canvas High Street... maybe we’ll get lucky before he moves.” The Supervisor barely dared to hope as she darted into the Operations Centre to quickly mobilise a squad.

**~o0o~**

So far everything was going smoothly. Kingsley Shacklebolt had apparated to safety with Clara Dawson, and now Dumbledore was inspecting the Experimental Tracking Spell which had been placed on Arthur Weasley during his period of incarceration.

“Hmmm... let me see...” Dumbledore peered at Arthur Weasley and held a palm up towards him, reaching out to feel the magic with his senses for several minutes, then he flicked his wand.

“Ah yes... Yes!” Dumbledore waved his wand several more times; an emerald and gold spell matrix centred on Arthur Weasley became visible. “I see it. Stay very still Arthur, this will be a bit tricky as I do not wish to simply remove the spell - I want to send a feedback signal...”

Arthur held his breath as Dumbledore traced a complex web of scarlet, silver, and amethyst around him with his wand. The scarlet, amethyst, and silver filaments of light entwined with the green and the gold, flaring brightly, then vanished. Arthur let his breath out and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“Is it gone?”

“Yes...” Dumbledore nodded as he passed Arthur a new wand, “but we should move quickly! This location is no doubt compromised... Though with any luck, they shan’t be attempting to use that spell on anyone again anytime soon.”

Dumbledore and Arthur cautiously stepped outside of the brick flats to apparate, peering up and down High Street. A hissing red bolt of magic barely missed them as they ducked, twisting the iron railing at the side of the doorsteps into molten metal with a burst of sparks and smoke, and they heard shouting. With a stunning spell, Arthur dropped the Unspeakable who was calling to the others further down the road, then he and Dumbledore both disapparated before anyone else drew near.

**~o0o~**

**“AAAARGH! Bloody Fucking Hell!”** screamed the Unspeakable Tech who was monitoring the map and the now smouldering, sparking tracking apparatus. “I was so close...” he moaned with his head in his hands. “I almost broke through the wards...” he sobbed.

The blood drained from the Unspeakable Supervisor’s face as she examined the wreckage of the equipment. Months of work on the Experimental Tracking Spell had just gone up in smoke, and the Chief wouldn't be pleased... not pleased at all.

**~o0o~**

“We should probably set up some protective enchantments around the estate before it gets too dark,” Dora murmured.

“Good idea,” said Hermione as she summoned a seventh year Charms book, the advanced Charms book, and a highly specialised book of Protection Charms from her bag. “But I’m not sure which ones would be best...”

“Maybe just a few basics,” Harry responded. “It depends - if we use an Unplottable and a Fidelius, Jennifer’s friends and the post won’t be able to find the place anymore. Jennifer, what do you think about that?”

“Oh... er... I can just set up a postbox at the post-office in the village nearby if necessary,” Jennifer replied, then she reddened and looked slightly tearful. “And I... erm... I haven’t really had many close chums since I was little...”

“After Dad got promoted to regional manager of the bank he worked for, he made some clever investments and got super-rich - then we moved here when I was about eight. I do... I did have a few friends from school nearby... but we... er... weren’t very close except for one or two. I... I didn’t really fit in. It... it’s probably best just to put whatever Charms up you think will keep us safe.”

“Well... er... if you’re sure!?” Detecting more than a hint of ambivalence, Harry’s brows furrowed slightly and he looked at Hermione.

Jennifer bit her lip uncertainly, glancing at Daphne and Luna and the others. Hermione could sense Jennifer’s inner-turmoil, her reluctance to confront what must have been a bit of a sore point, warring with her need to tell someone about it.

“Harry and I just don’t want you to feel cut-off from everyone you ever knew before, now that you’re home,” said Hermione gently.

“It... it’s just... you’re the best friends I’ve had in years! Really...” Jennifer finally said, a tear trickling down one cheek. “After primary school, Daddy tried to send me off to a Public School* at first - but I hated it. Everyone was snobby, and looked down on me because I didn’t come from old money or a peerage - they tormented me horribly for a whole year. So he and Mum let me go to the nearest high-school the following year.

“I liked it better at the high-school, because the kids there are more like what I was used to growing up when I was little. And most of them were nice enough I suppose, but... but I could tell that most of the kids I hung out with just thought of me as The Rich Girl. 

“They’d hang out with me a bit, but it was mostly superficial when they did... and they’d often snub _**me**_ for being a ‘Toff’... even though it was the last thing I’d ever wanted to be. And... and the one girl I really liked - we... erm... had a bit of a falling out. That happened not long ago... just before... you know...”

Jennifer sniffled and wiped away a few tears, but now that she’d started talking she couldn’t stop.

“I... I didn’t even quite realise how shallow most of my friendships were until I met you lot! Or at least I tried to pretend not to. You were all so nice to me, accepting me without question... ever since I met Luna... ” Jennifer paused and smiled tearily at Harry and Hermione, then at everyone else before concluding. “I felt like I really made a connection with you lot... like I’d finally met people I belonged with!”

The stars shone brightly between the gaps in the clouds which were gathering again, and the moon had risen over the witches and the wizard by the time they had completed warding Jennifer’s estate with every Protection Charm they could think of. The Fidelius had taken the longest to figure out, as not even Dora had learned how to do that one yet. 

“We should be able to work out how to key the Charms to make exceptions for non-magical people that we like and trust,” said Hermione, “But this should do for now.”

“Thanks loads guys!” said Jennifer. “Well, here goes... I suppose we should take a look inside.” Feeling a bit anxious, Jennifer lit her wand and unlocked the heavy oak front door with her key. “So... er... I forgot, there probably won’t be any electricity because nobody’s been paying it for months, and it mightn’t work with all the Magic Charms up anyway. But you can fix that right?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Harry responded as he lit his own wand and entered the foyer. “Hermione and I found the spell in a book at Number Twelve to make things run on magic and she’s already learned it...” 

“We can probably just charm the junction box,” Hermione interjected. “It should go through all the circuits and make everything work...”

“Oh!” Jennifer swallowed and her stomach clenched when she realised where they’d have to go. “It’s... it’s in the basement...”

“We can probably find it ourselves Jennifer,” said Hermione, looking at Jennifer with concern. “You don’t have to...”

“No... I’ll be alright!” Jennifer replied, steeling herself. “I should get this over with now!”

Daphne put an arm around Jennifer as they made their way to the basement door, which was still ajar. Heart pounding loudly, her breath quickening, Jennifer pushed it open and led the others down the steps. The glow of eight lit wands pierced the darkness of the cavernous subterranean room.

“Th... that’s wh...where he usually kept me ch...chained me up...” stammered Jennifer, pointing at the iron leg shackles attached to one of the stone pillars. “Ratface...”

Daphne squeaked and horrified gasps could be heard all around. Dora and Harry felt their stomachs churning in quiet rage. They all knew what Wormtail had done to Jennifer, but seeing where it had happened for themselves for the first time and imagining being in Jennifer’s place was still a bit of a nasty shock.

Jennifer stared at the shackles as her trepidation melted away. She had been dreadfully afraid that seeing them again would trigger a nightmarish relapse into terror, shame, and crawling revulsion. But all Jennifer was left with was some residual anger; everything else had evaporated in the Room of Requirement the day that her recessive magical genes had been activated. Ratface was dead and gone, never to harm anyone again.

“Right then...” Jennifer said almost brightly, kicking the shackles out of her way, “The main junction box is over this way.”

When Hermione had finished charming the junction box everyone returned up the stairs from the basement where they found that much of the house was ablaze with the lights which had apparently been left on by the police at the conclusion of their fruitless investigation. Jennifer had been right, much of the house had been left in quite a mess when Voldemort and the forces which had been meeting there had departed to take Azkaban.

“I’m famished now! It’s a good thing we brought sandwiches,” said Jennifer as they walked down the corridor and approached the kitchen, “because everything is probably rotten...”

She gasped in shock as she pushed the door open to the kitchen, coming to a dead halt, bringing up the rest short as they all bumped into her. Everyone tried to peer over Jennifer’s shoulders to see what was wrong. Harry burst out laughing.

“Dobby... when did you get here?” he chortled at the cheerful bustling House-Elf.

“Dobby gets here hours ago Master Harry... when Master and Mistresses leave London. Dobby is bringing Mr and Mrs Potter's owl and cat. They is being much nicer to Dobby this time. Dobby makes kitchen work, but Dobby is sorry he has not had time to clean most of the house yet...”

Jennifer giggled and shook her head as she and the others filed into the bright spotless kitchen, wondering how they could have all missed the delicious smells of the feast that Dobby had prepared for them.

“Where did all the food come from Dobby?” Hermione asked in curiosity.

“House-Elves is being very good at kitchen magic Mistress Hermione,” Dobby replied gleefully, “Where there is little fresh food, we is making into much, and is changing into what Masters and Mistresses like best. Dobby is finding many tins of food in cupboards...”

“Oh... of course!” Hermione mentally kicked herself. “That makes sense.”

“I’d forgotten about tins of food,” murmured Jennifer. “Of course most of those would still be good.”

“So you’ve been in here cooking and cleaning the kitchen the whole time we’ve been outside setting up Protection Charms then... and we didn’t even know it?” Harry said in amazement; he had told Dobby and Hedwig where they were going and to follow along, but he hadn’t really expected this.

“Oh, no...” the cheerful House-Elf beamed, “Dobby is also cleaning all the bathrooms, one of the parlours, and four of the bedrooms besides the main kitchen and making dinner. But Dobby is not having enough time to clean all the rest of the house...”

Jennifer gaped in awe. “I should think not,” she squeaked. “There’s eighteen bedrooms plus servant’s quarters, seven bathrooms, a library, two studies, two dining rooms, the main kitchen and the servant’s kitchen, three parlours, a sunroom, a ballroom, and a recreation room with a swimming pool. And that’s not including the basements, the coal cellar, the attic, the garage, and the three bedroom farm-cottage near the stables... and the barn.”

“It’s no wonder Voldemort picked this estate,” squeaked Daphne, half in amazement, half sorrowfully. “It’s bigger than my family’s. Though... we do also have a Chalet in Switzerland.”

“I think it’s almost as big as Madam Black’s estate!” Dora interjected.

“Even my family’s, our home ees grand, but not so large,” Fleur added.

“Stables? Did you have horses then?” asked Parvati, sounding hopeful.

“And a farm too?” chimed in Luna.

“No,” Jennifer shook her head. “The main farm has a much bigger farmhouse and had already been sold decades ago before Dad bought this place. That’s at the bottom of the hill behind us. The cottage on the estate was for the stable and grounds-keepers. We didn’t have horses though. But there’s a beautiful pond in the gardens, and I think there’s over a 115 acres on this hill, about half of it woods.

“Honestly...” she continued, “this has always seemed too much to me. We were just average when I was little. I don’t really know what possessed my father once he’d made a fortune... It was a bit lonely with only the three of us and a butler and a maid in this massive house. I think I would have been happier in a nice little cottage with just Dad and Mum and having my old friends around to play.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Harry said, nodding as he sat down at the kitchen table next to Hermione and took her hand. “I still feel really weird about my godfather just giving me Number Twelve and one of his family’s vaults at Gringotts stuffed to the ceiling with all kinds of gold and treasures.

“I suppose I could buy a huge posh place in the country too without making much of a dent in the vault, but I don’t really see much purpose to that. I’d rather just share what I have with people I care about!” Harry added earnestly, grinning at Hermione and all of their friends. “Number Twelve is much nicer when it’s full of family... and you’re all like family to me as far as I’m concerned.”

Jennifer smiled tearily at Harry as she sat down at the table and took Daphne’s hand as the Potters sat beside them. She wiped the tears away again and glanced around the table as Dora and Fleur, and Luna and Parvati took seats as well.

“I miss Mum and Dad...” Jennifer said in a slightly creaky voice, “but you’re right Harry. You’re all like my family too now, and I’m happy you’re all here to fill this house up. You’re all welcome to stay any time you’d like.”

After dinner, Harry had to order Dobby to get some rest when it appeared that the all too eager House-Elf was ready to spend all night cleaning every room in the Manor and in the cottage as well.

“But only four bedrooms is being cleaned yet,” moaned Dobby. “Dobby must still clean rooms that werewolves and rodent-man is staying in - they be shedding everywhere. And rooms which have dirty Snatchers and Misters Crabbe and Goyle is needing much sanitising!” Dobby grimaced as he concluded his complaint.

“It’s alright Dobby,” said Harry, grinning “Four bedrooms is plenty of room for us.”

The portrait of Phineas Nigellus grumbled about being dislocated from Number Twelve when he was placed on the wall in one of the parlours after being pulled out of Harry’s bigger-on-the-inside bag. The Wiz-Vision screen was taken out of Hermione's bag and set up in the same parlour while Phineas went exploring through the muggle paintings in the manor.

Jennifer took everyone on a brief tour through the rest of the opulently decorated house. Dora and Hermione were both tempted to have a go at the grand piano in one of the other parlours, but thought that could probably wait. One of the studies had been turned into an art studio and was full of oil paintings and watercolours.

“Wow... these are amazing!” said Dora as she admired the oil paintings.

“Yeah, they’re fantastic! ” Harry agreed, wondering if he’d ever be able to manage anything quite as nice whenever he got around to making some time to give painting a go.

“They’re beautiful! Did you paint them?” asked Daphne.

“Well a load of them are my Mum’s, but most of them are mine,” Jennifer blushed.

“Oh... this one has a first prize,” said Luna she peered at the landscape painting that Parvati and Fleur were swooning over. “Is that one yours too?”

“Y...yeah,” Jennifer nodded and bit her lip, turning even redder. “That... that’s when my friend - the girl I really liked - that’s when we had the falling out... We’d both entered a painting in the art-show. I... I probably shouldn’t have though when I found out she’d already entered, as I nearly always win the local art-competitions in our age-group. I... erm... I just really wanted to enter it, I'm not really sure why though.”

“Maybe because it made you feel like you belonged - like you fit in somewhere?” Daphne suggested. 

A familiar figure wandered onto the canvas they were looking at. Harry raised his eyebrows as he regarded the painted person, trying not to smirk at the awed expression on the figure’s features.

“My word! ” gasped Phineas Nigellus after his stroll through the paintings of the manor, “Well... it’s a bit untidy - could definitely use a few house-elves, but this is quite an upgrade from Number Twelve, Potter!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * For those who don't already know, in the UK "Public School" really means "Private School"... :P


	60. The Cabal

MI6 Director of Raw Intelligence and Analysis, “N,” was puzzled by a memo sent up the chain from one of his Analysts indicating that an MI5 Analyst may have been detained indefinitely by an MI6 Black Ops unit for attempting to leak classified information to a reporter for _The Guardian_. It wasn’t entirely unheard of for MI6 to conduct operations on British soil (which were supposed to be conducted by MI5), but as a general rule it was frowned upon as it violated their official charter (to conduct operations only on foreign soil) and left the agency open to legal repercussions.

After giving it some thought, “N” decided to bring the matter to the attention of “C,” the Chief of MI6. It was possible after all that the other unit was operating without official sanction - which also wasn’t entirely unheard of, as a certain amount of leeway was given to Black Ops units in order to provide the entirety of MI6 with a certain amount of plausible denial should a particularly sensitive overseas operation go horribly wrong.

But this particular operation seemed off, as MI6 and MI5 were generally well coordinated and any potential illegal leaks to the British press discovered by MI6 were usually handed off to MI5 for investigation. Though given the questionable manner in which the operation had been conducted - including the abduction of a minor - “N” supposed that it wasn’t surprising that the task had fallen to MI6, as the agency operated with a higher level of secrecy and immunity.

So it was with some trepidation that “N” sent a memo to “C’s” secretary, Miss Guineapence, urgently requesting a meeting with “C.” Half an hour later “N” found himself in front of “C’s” desk explaining his quandary. 

“C” listened to his subordinate patiently, then made a call to the Prime Minister on a secure line once “N” had departed from his office. After receiving his instructions, “C” called in the head of the Black Ops unit in question and passed along the PM’s orders, then “C” had all memos regarding the matter tracked down and purged from the system. 

“C” sighed upon completion of the task as he perused through personnel files, looking for the most suitable candidates to replace the two intelligence officers who had unwittingly stumbled onto an off-books operation. 

Several hours after that, an unidentified body was discovered floating in the Thames by the Metropolitan Police, and another body was found nearby on a dock, both of them riddled with bullets. By all appearances both victims seemed to be participants in a high level drugs deal gone wrong.

**~o0o~**

Amelia Bones pursed her lips and adjusted her monocle, frowning skeptically at Auror Reynard Mulligan’s report from one of the Auror Office’s moles in Scotland Yard. To say that she was disturbed by the implications was an understatement, though Dumbledore certainly appeared to be taking it in stride by all outward indications.

“Are you certain of this Reynard?” she asked.

“Not entirely certain, no Ma’am!” Mulligan replied. “But Auror Pevensie swears that there’s definitely no record indicating that Clara Dawson’s sister and their friend have been detained by the Metropolitan Police. And according to her, a number of street protesters are disappearing from holding facilities and records of their detainment are being purged from the system... Pevensie is sure that Aurors Johnson and Terwilliger have something t’do with it.”

“Well Amelia, I certainly trust Pevensie’s instincts,” said Dumbledore as he stroked his long silvery beard pensively. “Especially given what we know of the collusion between Minister Umbridge and the PM.”

“Yes, of course Albus,” Madam Bones replied. “Pevensie has always been loyal to me. But it doesn’t make sense... The surreptitious removal of the Prime Minister’s biggest problems - the _**leaders**_ of the political groups involved in the protests - makes some sense, but why disappear the others? ... The current muggle PM is certainly a piece of work - and don’t get me started on his party’s political agenda - but I never took him for a dictator of a banana republic.”

“Corruption and Paranoia, Amelia,” sighed Dumbledore, “the path to darkness for many with great political ambition - those who would seek Power above all else for its own sake. If Minister Umbridge has proven anything, it is that she is quite adept at exploiting the ambitions of fellow travelers to suit her own purposes. 

“And the greater the ambition, the greater the paranoia. No doubt the Prime Minister is capitalising on his relationship with Minister Umbridge to suppress dissent and remove his political enemies without leaving his own fingerprints behind. 

“Exploiting the public’s fear of being ‘disappeared’ has been proven quite an effective tool of suppression by many a tyrannical regime. In any case, we shall discuss this matter at greater length at tonight’s Order meeting. For now, it is best that Reynard return to the Ministry before he is missed.” 

Dumbledore peered earnestly at Mulligan. “Reynard, thank you very much for looking into this matter, and please pass on my gratitude to Auror Pevensie. And please continue to stay alert to danger... as Alastor would say, Constant Vigilance!”

**~o0o~**

Hermione yawned, blinking her eyes, waking to the pitter-pat of gentle rain on the balcony and the muted light of a wet dawn. She felt so at home in bed with Harry under silky sheets that felt like their own, that it took her a moment to recall that they were actually in one of the many rooms in Jennifer’s manor. Hermione stretched out her toes and sighed contentedly, snuggling closer to Harry.

It was so peaceful listening to the rain fall as she watched Harry sleep that Hermione was happy to lie-in as long as possible, but Harry soon stirred, sniffing the air.

“Mmm... bacon!” Harry murmured as he woke up. Hermione giggled and gave him a kiss.

“About time,” she said teasingly, “I’ve been smelling bacon for over half an hour.”

“Oh... Sorry Hermione! No time for kisses then...” Harry retorted, grinning as he started to sit up.

“Prat!” said Hermione as she pushed Harry back down and pinned him to the bed, “There’s _always_ time for kisses!”

Half an hour later, after a steamy kissing session, showering quickly and dressing, the Potters finally arrived in the kitchen for breakfast, surprised to find that the only ones already waiting with Dobby were Luna and Parvati.

“It’s getting a bit late. Were the Nargles keeping you occupied?” asked Luna with a perfectly straight face. Harry and Hermione both turned a bit pink and grinned. 

“Look out for mistletoe,” Harry quipped, “It’s everywhere...”

Parvati snorted with mirth and Luna giggled. The four of them and Dobby were already digging into breakfast when Fleur and Dora, and Daphne and Jennifer arrived. Dabbing her lips with a napkin when she was finished, Jennifer raised her eyebrows at Harry, knowing him all too well by now.

“I expect you’ll be wanting your fill of morning news then,” she said, beckoning him and the others to one of the parlours in the manor. They all wondered how they could have missed it the night before - an enormous flat screen hanging on the wall on one side of the room. 

“Is that a projection TV?” asked Hermione.

“Better!” Jennifer replied, breaking into a grin. “It’s a plasma screen. They’re not really due out in stores properly for a couple of years, but dad couldn’t resist getting one of the advance models. We’ve got a satellite dish, so we get all the channels available in the UK...”

“That’s brilliant! I bet we could get the American ones too if we ask Remus how he did it,” said Harry. It was too late for a regular BBC morning news broadcast, but BBC World was running a recap of the morning headlines in Britain.

“Blimey!” Harry muttered in surprise, “Another Inferi attack in Yorkshire... I thought they would have mopped them all up by now. I suppose the Ministry hasn’t been able to catch all of the contagious ones.”

“Or worse...” Hermione added, trailing off.

“Wait... you don’t really think...” Harry began.

“...that the Ministry might be making a few of their own!” Hermione bit her lip anxiously. “They might be...” she said in a small voice. “The Minister wasn’t above adding a horde of regular Inferi to the third task and blaming it on Voldemort. Who’s to say that she’s not working with Bellatrix Lestrange to make a few more contagious ones?” 

Dora frowned, chewing a fingernail and Fleur looked disturbed. Jennifer and Daphne shared frightened glances with Luna and Parvati.

“Bloody Hell!” swore Harry as he rubbed his forehead. “You’re right Hermione! I wouldn’t put it past the Minister at all. She might be doing it to help the muggle Prime Minister...”

“...to add to a climate of fear for him to exploit politically,” Hermione concluded with a nod.

“I suppose we’re just lucky that wizards will stop them from turning everyone then?” said Jennifer hopefully.

“Yeah...” Harry sighed. “The Ministry will probably keep them from getting out of hand. It wouldn’t do to have too many running amok - just enough to keep people frightened. I'm just glad that the Inferi were put down and only a few people were killed. I suppose it could have been much worse...”

Everyone groaned when the next segment aired and Harry’s face appeared in the corner of the screen.

“I can’t believe they’re still going on about you being a terrorist, Harry,” Parvati fumed. “I mean you’re only fifteen...”

“And ees even worse now,” said Fleur, her nostrils flaring angrily. “This ees international broadcast.”

“It’s just so unfair!” said Daphne, wiping away a tear. “Harry’ll never be able to show his face in public again...”

“Harry will be alright though,” said Luna serenely. “He’s a metamorphmagus... like Dora!”

“Yeah... try not worry too much,” said Dora with a wry smile. “Harry’s brilliant at it. And except for Dumbledore, Sirius, and Remus, nobody else knows that Harry is one besides us.”

“I just won’t be able to go out in public as myself until this is all sorted out,” Harry sighed.

“And it’ll _**really**_ throw them off if Harry goes out in girl form,” Hermione smirked. “They _definitely_ won’t be looking for him as a girl.”

There was a sudden change in atmosphere. Harry groaned when he spotted the hungry gleam in everyone’s eyes and remembered an unfulfilled promise. Dora shook her head and chuckled sympathetically.

“Looks like you lot will be getting your supermodel-Harriet fashion show finally,” Dora chortled.

“Oooh! I’ve got loads of lovely clothes for you to try in my wardrobe Harry!” said Jennifer eagerly, her face brightening.

**~o0o~**

Richard Granger wasn’t particularly thrilled to be a dentist in someone else’s practice in Sydney, Australia, after having had his own practice in London near the home he had shared with his ex-wife and daughter in Hampstead, but it kept him busy and the difference in income was more than made up for by an account set up for him, apparently by Harry Potter’s godfather.

It was also a distraction from the fact that he was under constant surveillance by wizards. Indeed, Richard Granger wouldn’t have left England or had anything more to do with the wizard world at all, but apparently he had little say in the matter. The associates of his daughter had been quite adamant that he was in imminent danger and that he would be relocated whether he liked it or not at his daughter’s insistence.

It had been especially galling to Richard that he was expected to believe that the danger was presented by a man who was dead - the wizard whom Harry Potter had killed as a child. No matter what powers were available to wizards, Richard refused to believe that anyone could return from the dead. As far as he was concerned, the whole thing was a concoction, a fabrication for purposes unknown.

The fact that his daughter believed it was unpersuasive. Richard had read the letter Hermione had sent explaining why he had to be relocated numerous times, and it was clear that she was still irrationally besotted to the true menace - Harry Potter. 

Richard had grudgingly supposed he should be grateful that at least Hermione had finally opened up an avenue of dialogue with him. That was the only good thing which had come of the whole affair, and it was the only thing which gave him some measure of comfort and hope in his exile.

As the end of November approached, the beginning of Australian summer grew nearer, and it was sweltering in Sydney. It had been a very long day at the clinic, having had to give dental exams to some of the most insufferable brats that Richard Granger had ever had displeasure of treating while the air conditioner had been broken.

Worn out, sweaty, and irritable, Richard couldn’t wait to get home. As soon as he got in the door, he yanked off his shirt and tie, threw them on the chair in the kitchen, and grabbed a six-pack of beer from the fridge. He flopped on the sofa, cracked open the first can and downed it in several swallows before he even turned on the television. Halfway through his second beer Richard found his remote and clicked on the TV.

He flicked through the channels for a few moments until a he found the evening news. Riots in London several days ago hardly seemed newsworthy in Australia and Richard was about to switch channels again when a familiar face caught his attention. Beer sprayed out of Richard’s mouth and he gaped in shock at the screen.

 _ **“Potter!”**_ he spat. “I _**knew**_ it! ... I _**knew**_ he was no good...”

Furiously, Richard grabbed the telephone and began dialing, determined to be on the next flight to England, consequences be damned. All that mattered was that his daughter was in danger and he needed to find her and get her away from Potter.

**~o0o~**

The girls spent the next few hours giggling and ransacking Jennifer’s chests of drawers and her wardrobe, making Harriet try on everything they could find while Hermione and Dora watched, chuckling in amusement. Daphne, Fleur, Parvati, and Jennifer were the most excited about choosing the clothes which would best suit Harriet, but Luna thought it was loads of good fun.

Harriet didn’t mind as much as she had thought she would. And Harriet had to admit that she rather enjoyed the satiny feeling of the girls undergarments against her skin, and she considered buying some silk boxers for when she reverted to boy form. But she was still a bit relieved when they finally stopped after finding a dress which set off her skin tones and eye colour nicely.

“Very pretty...” said Jennifer with a grin.

“You’re gorgeous Harriet!” said Hermione happily, giving her a warm kiss. “I’m glad that some of us have better fashion sense than me. Now we can go into the little village nearby with Jennifer...”

“But not until after we’ve disguised you up a bit, Hermione,” Dora interjected. “The transfiguration disguise spells aren’t nearly as good as being a metamorphmagus of course, but they oughta be good enough to pass you off, especially in a muggle village where nobody knows you.”

Dora waved her wand and muttered a few incantations. Hermione’s hair straightened and lengthened, turning a dark shade of auburn. Her face rounded, eyebrows and nose taking on a slightly different shape, and her eyes turned hazel. Harriet could still just make out that it was Hermione, but she could see that it would be effective enough to fool anyone who didn’t know her.

“Yeah... you just can’t do such a complete job, but it’ll do!” said Dora. “The most important thing is that you're just as pretty as before!” she concluded with a wink and a giggle.

“So... er.... should we all go?” Harriet asked the others.

“No... I think just Daphne should go with you and Jennifer. The rest of us can come down another day for a look around the village together,” said Luna wisely, giving her head a little shake with a sad smile at Jennifer. “It might be a bit much for us to all visit Jennifer’s parents’ graves the first day she’s back.”

Thankfully, the rain was only moderate as Harriet and Hermione followed Jennifer and Daphne down the driveway to the wrought-iron gates at the bottom of the hill, and then down the country avenue lined with dripping beeches and elm trees to the nearby village. 

Harriet walked arm in arm with Hermione, holding a large umbrella over the both of them, glad that Jennifer had nice sensible walking shoes to go with her dresses. She was certain that she wouldn’t manage even two metres through the puddles in heels, to say nothing of two kilometres. Harriet was wearing a pretty tan overcoat over the green dress which had been chosen for her by the others. She tingled slightly when she felt a cold breeze between her thighs, unused to the sensation.

Hermione spotted the slightly awkward look on Harriet’s face and smiled impishly.

“So how does it feel?” Hermione asked.

“Sort of wondering why we’re not all wearing jeans, t-shirts, and jumpers,” Harriet grumbled. 

But she bore a hint of a smirk and her face turned a bit pink. She knew that the rest of the girls had been determined to get her in a dress, and truth be told, it was more fun than she had been willing to let on.

“It’s a bit weird not wearing trousers or shorts...” Harriet continued. “As a guy, I never really got the appeal of kilts, or how loads of older wizards just wear robes. But there’s... there’s something sort of... er... nice about it actually.”

Their first stop was in the little village grocery-and-post-office. Several villagers gawked in surprise when they spied the new arrivals, whispering to one another. A fat grey tabby cat lazily reclining on one of the counters spotted them and began purring loudly.

 _“Jennifer Watts?”_ gasped the cheery round faced shop-owner when she turned around to see who her cat was purring at. “Good heavens! We weren’t sure whether you’d be returning after... er...” the shop owner trailed off awkwardly. 

The fact was that all the police had told anyone was that Jennifer’s parents had been murdered in some sort of home invasion, and that she had apparently been held captive for a period of time by the killers, then sent off to live with relatives after she’d been rescued. But it seemed a bit indelicate to just blurt it out.

“Where are my manners? It’s so lovely to see you again dear!” said the shop owner, recovering herself and giving Jennifer a big hug. “I’m dreadfully sorry about your parents - such a shame.”

“Er... thank you Mrs Kindling,” said Jennifer, swallowing nervously.

“Are these lovely young ladies some new friends of yours then?” asked Mrs Kindling, smiling warmly at Daphne, Hermione, and Harriet.

“Er... yeah, they’ll be staying with me for a bit,” Jennifer replied, blushing. “I... er... I just thought I’d hire a post box if you’ve got one available.”

“Of course dear...”

After leaving the shop, they strolled through the cobbled streets peering at the quaint buildings, many of which were centuries old.

“That’s the village church which Mum and Dad went to over there...” Jennifer began, before being interrupted by a squeal.

 _“Jennifer?”_ squeaked a blonde girl who looked about the same age as Hermione and Jennifer. “Is that really you? Where have you been?”

The blonde girl darted across the street and gave Jennifer a teary hug. Judging from Jennifer’s stiff response, Daphne and the Potters thought it might be the same girl that she had liked, but fallen out with.

“Er... Hello Anna!” Jennifer said awkwardly.

“I... I heard about your parents... and that you'd been sent away...” sniffled Jennifer’s old friend, wiping some tears away. “I... I just...” Anna’s voice caught as she trembled. “...I’m so sorry! ... for everything! ... I was horrid the last time I saw you.”

Jennifer’s features softened, her own tears threatening to leak. “No, _**I’m**_ sorry!” she said, returning the other girl’s hug, her face flushing with shame. “I was being really selfish... You had every right to be angry.” 

Head on Jennifer’s shoulder, Anna peered at Daphne, Hermione, and Harriet, seeing their concerned faces.

“I’m glad you’ve made some new friends Jennifer!” she said, smiling wanly. “Maybe one day we could...er... Well... I suppose I should let you go... see where your parents are buried!”

The blonde girl released Jennifer, and before Jennifer could voice a response, Anna dashed back across the cobbled street, splashing through the puddles as she rounded a corner and disappeared. Jennifer swallowed and the tears which had been threatening began to fall.

“It’ll be alright Jennifer,” Daphne murmured as she took Jennifer’s arm with one of her own. She brushed some stray strands of ebony hair out of Jennifer’s face and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll understand if you...”

“No, don’t be silly,” said Jennifer, smiling through her tears, “I’m with you now.”

The peaceful cemetery of the ancient little church at the end of the road backed onto a small wooded area of hawthorn, elm trees and shrubbery, beyond which lay an open field. From the cemetery, the church itself was hidden by hedges and trees except for the steeple, and nobody else was around in any case, as morning services were long over.

Several little red fox kits played nearby in the wet grass, squeaking and tumbling over the graves. They hid behind a gravestone when they spotted the newcomers, but didn’t run away as the young witches approached. Hermione’s breath caught with delight as she quietly pointed out to Harriet the adorable little faces with quivering whiskers peeking out from behind the stone.

Daphne and Jennifer both smiled when they spied the foxes as well. Jennifer gave a little gasp when she realised whose names were on the stone they were hiding behind. She bit her lip and tears trickled down her cheeks as she said goodbye to her mum and dad, feeling comforted in Daphne’s arms and glad to have Harriet and Hermione with her as well.

Harriet cuddled Hermione as the raindrops began falling again, not bothering to open their umbrella, feeling the sting of tears in her own eyes. Hermione looked about furtively to make sure that nobody was spying on them and gave Harriet a kiss on the lips.

“One day Hermione...” Harriet croaked. “One day _**soon**_... I need to visit Godric’s Hollow!”

**~o0o~**

That night as they lay in bed winding down after a rather robust exchange of passions, Hermione could sense Harriet’s tension, and knew that she was much more upset than she’d been letting on all day. After a few moments, Harriet morphed back into Harry and sighed.

“Are you alright Harry?” Hermione asked as she coiled her arms around him. “Are you still thinking about your parents?”

Harry pondered for a moment before replying.

“Actually, no...” he said. “I can’t stop thinking about what the Minister is doing. Every day, more muggleborn are going to disappear into her pits... and there may be more Inferi attacks. I can’t just sit here and do nothing, hoping that the Order eventually works it out - I’ve got to _do_ something - I’ve got to help...”

Hermione trembled slightly; she had known it would eventually come to this, and she couldn’t bring herself to disagree. She couldn’t counter with the fact that the muggle government was now after Harry as well, because Harry could be Harriet or whoever he needed to be. And in any case, Hermione rather felt the same way.

“What should we do Harry?” she murmured.

“We have to help the Order find those detention centres and expose them for the death traps that they surely are...” said Harry. “Catch the Ministry in the act and make it public - rally support to fight the Ministry head on. We need to take the fight to them... tear those places down.

“If they really are making Inferi, they have to be using those facilities to make Inferi from whoever they’re killing - they wouldn’t dare do it at the Ministry... We should start by looking for the big one in Wales...”

“I... I agree Harry...” Hermione sniffled. “It’s just... it’s... it’s so nice and peaceful here with you and the others... I wish we could just stay here and grow old together.”

“Me too Hermione,” said Harry, pulling her closer to him and kissing her forehead.

“We _will_ grow old together Hermione, I promise...”

“...but we have a job to do...” said Hermione, nodding as she wiped away her tears. “I know! But we can’t just rush into it headlong...”

“...we need to be sure about what we’re doing! Of course Hermione. We should stay here for a little bit - and find the most useful spells in our books that we can...”

“...we’ll practice them for a bit and then - when we think we’re ready - then we’ll go...” Hermione agreed, nodding again.

**~o0o~**

Albus Dumbledore felt haggard and old. He sighed as he continued to peruse the information gained from the Potters’ excursion to rescue Arthur Weasley from the Ministry. As he had been dreading, all the signs pointed to a situation surely as bad as had been faced in Europe in the 1930’s and 40’s. He sipped his tea and set his cup down, taking off his spectacles and massaging his forehead before looking up at some of the members of his inner-circle.

Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape with Narcissa Black at his side, Amelia Bones, Alastor Moody, and the rescued Arthur Weasley: they all sat huddled at one end of the long ebony table in Narcissa’s home, shuffling their own copies of the documents relieved from the Department of Mysteries. Snape flared his nostrils and peered at Dumbledore, raising his eyebrows.

“Potter... Harry... he won’t wait long. You know that don’t you?” said Snape evenly. “He’s not the sort to sit out a fight. We must act... and we must act soon.”

“I agree,” growled Moody, his whizzing blue eyeball coming to a halt on Dumbledore. “We have actionable intelligence for the first time thanks to the Potters and their friends... Now’s the time! We need to take the fight to the Ministry - show ‘em we mean business!”

“Severus and Alastor are right Albus,” said McGonagall as Amelia Bones nodded vigorously. “If we wish the Potters and their friends to survive, and live to grow as old as us...”

“Well... as old as _me_ hopefully,” Albus interjected with a sardonic chuckle. “Of _**course**_ we shall act! We all know the stakes, which are ever higher now that we can be certain that the Minister and the PM are colluding.

“We cannot just sit on this! We must find these facilities and destroy them, collecting as much evidence as we can. And then we need to retake Hogwarts so that it can be a proper sanctuary, and even a proper base from which to prepare an assault upon the Ministry, should it prove necessary.

“Mr Lovegood and Ms Skeeter are very near to finding the keys to unlocking the Wiz-Vision. We need to be ready to make our appeal to the public at large and show them the evidence the moment that the _Quibbler_ is ready to interrupt the broadcasts. Once that has been accomplished, we can indeed, ‘take the fight to the Ministry.’

“And the Minister is very near to overplaying her hand by having the muggle Prime Minister order that an arrest warrant be issued for young Harry, in terms of exposing their collusion and drawing the attention of the ICW.

“It is my considered opinion that the only reason she has not yet had the muggle authorities issue a warrant for _**me,**_ is because she knows that I have already petitioned the ICW myself to intervene. Currently, the ICW views this as an ‘internal matter.’ That would likely change if they feel that the Minister is overstepping her bounds by revealing me to the muggle world... it would bring her collusion into sharp relief, and they would no doubt begin an Investigation at the very least...”

“Maybe we can cause her to slip up then... if we make her angry enough,” said Arthur Weasley. “What if we can get her to try and expose you? Surely, if we find some of these facilities and take them out...”

“That is a distinct possibility!” Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully as he stroked his long silvery beard. “It may be a longshot... she displays a remarkable amount of restraint for one such as herself, but it is indeed something to hope for, as she does also have a penchant for pushing her plans to their limits.

“In the meantime though, we cannot rely on help from the outside, except for those forces which Monsieur Delacour has placed at our disposal. Now, another matter to consider are the continuing incursions of contagious Inferi. It seems increasingly likely that what we have feared has come to pass - a compact between the Minister and Bellatrix Lestrange... 

“Thus, our work is cut out for us. Our immediate priorities are as follows: locating and destroying the Ministry’s concentration camps, tamping down any Inferi attacks which we get wind of, protecting the muggleborn - either by facilitating their escape from Britain or finding them safe haven within our borders, and recruiting more Order members... 

“This last should become much easier once we have enough evidence to make our case to the public that it may be necessary to use force to unseat the current regime in the Ministry.”

“What about Mr Potter?” said Amelia, a worried expression on her face. “If Severus is correct, should you not order Mr Potter and his wife and friends to remain safe wherever they are hidden...?”

“Believe me Amelia,” Albus peered at her with his clear blue eyes, “If I believed for a moment that the Potters and their friends would obey that particular order, I would issue it in a heartbeat. However, I do not wish to give Harry any reason to act with willful disregard. 

“Should he feel the need to act against my explicit wishes, it is possible that he could become reckless... Harry has proved time and again how capable and resourceful he is, when encouraged and given the tools he needs to accomplish the task at hand...”

“But he’s only fifteen years old Albus,” snapped Minerva as Amelia nodded and indicated her agreement with Professor McGonagall. “You can’t just send a fifteen year old boy...”

“And _yet_...” Dumbledore said in a tone which quieted Minerva at once, “...at eleven years old, he had the courage, moral fortitude, and the presence of mind to defeat Voldemort with nothing but his prodigious abilities, an Invisibility Cloak, the considerable assistance of the young lady who is now his wife, and a well played chess match by Arthur Weasley’s son.

“Then, between him and his wife, at Twelve and Thirteen years old, the pair of them uncovered the plot behind the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, and also exposed the truth of Voldemort’s Horcruxes. In their third year the pair of them helped uncover the truth behind the betrayal of Harry's parents, freeing Sirius Black from an unjust sentence and exposing Peter Pettigrew as the real traitor... Following that, not only did Harry and his wife survive the Triwizard Tournament - with proper training from Alastor and Nymphadora Tonks I might add - they also saved every other contestant from near certain death...

“And I do not think I need to remind anyone, how the Potters helped us locate and destroy all of the Horcruxes... and fought alongside their friends with us at the Battle for Hogwarts... making it possible to kill Voldemort once and for all!”

“And most recently, the Potters and their friends penetrated a secured facility in the heart of the Ministry which has long been considered impenetrable, and executed a successful rescue of Arthur... with members of the Order on standby if needed, as thankfully, Harry had the presence of mind to inform Sirius and Remus of their extraction plan.

“Harry, his wife, and their friends have proved their worth as full members of this Order, and proved their ability to survive the most terrible dangers... especially when _fully informed_ , when _encouraged_ , and when given the proper tools for the job.”

“I do indeed wish them to survive... which is why I shall be calling Harry on the morrow, and advising him to act as he sees fit... as long as he continues to keep us informed of his team’s activities, and continues to seek council from Order members.

“If I do not... Harry may feel it necessary to act anyway, without our knowledge, and with clouded emotions, and that would be far more likely to lead to him - or a member of his team - coming to grave harm!”

McGonagall and Madam Bones glanced at each other, then back at Dumbledore, both of them sighing, realising sadly that Dumbledore was correct.

**~o0o~**

Harry was stunned when he received the mirror call the following morning. He had just finished cleaning his teeth when Hermione entered the bathroom.

“Harry... it’s Dumbledore. He wants to speak to you.”

Harry peered into those clear blue eyes in the mirror and he felt a surge of emotion as he conferred with the real headmaster of Hogwarts for several minutes. He was stunned when Dumbledore had concluded making his proposition.

“Really sir?” gasped Harry. “You’re alright with this? And how did you know what I was thinking of doing?”

“Well, Harry,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling at Harry’s surprise and eagerness, “let me just say that after knowing you for some years now, I and my colleagues have gained a fairly good understanding of your true nature - and the natures of those who care about you the most.

“I only ask that you proceed with utmost caution, and continue to keep members of the Order apprised of your current situation... and that you continue relying on your wife’s keen sense of intellect!”

“Yes sir... of course I will!” said Harry, filling with a sense of elation as he grinned at Hermione, who was blushing furiously at the last part of Dumbledore’s admonition.

Harry and Hermione both chatted with Dumbledore a few minutes, working out plans before saying goodbye. Barely a few seconds passed between the fading of Dumbledore’s image and the flickering appearance of two familiar faces in the mirror as Harry's name was called out.

“Sirius... Remus,” Harry beamed. “What’s up?”

“Dumbledore,” said Sirius with an easy grin. “He called us earlier to let us know what the current plan of attack is. And Remus and I are now both in a position to be able to offer assistance should you need it...”

“I’ve just managed to complete my animagus wolf form in record time,” interjected Lupin, who looked positively thrilled. “Apparently all those years as a werewolf were good for something! The transformations...”

“They left you some sort of cellular memory didn’t they?” gasped Hermione as she peered over Harry’s shoulder at Lupin and Sirius in the mirror.

“That they did Hermione!” grinned Lupin. “Which means we can both now leave the Shrieking Shack or Narcissa’s place in our canine forms without discovery. We can be of much more use to the Order now, and will be free to apparate to your aid as needed.”

“That’s brilliant!” said Harry excitedly. “So what’s next? You should come visit...”

“Well, we’re a bit busy for that at the moment,” Sirius sighed. “Too much to do for the Order. And I’m afraid it’s not all good news. Hermione, I have just been informed by my Australian contacts that your father is returning to England...”

 _“What?”_ squeaked Hermione, aghast. “But it’s still not safe for him here...”

“That’s what Emmeline Vance tried to tell him,” Sirius replied. “I sent her to Sydney via international portkey the moment I was informed of your father’s arrangements. Unfortunately she was unable to persuade your father as he is absolutely convinced that Harry is a terrorist. Apparently he is quite determined to find you and ‘save’ you from Harry.”

Harry raised his eyebrows and groaned, palming his face with both hands.

“Oh no!” Hermione moaned, peering at Harry worriedly. “This is awful! I still haven’t actually told him we’re married. I was working up to it! ... When is he due to arrive in Heathrow? Maybe I can meet him and talk him into going back...”

“That’s a bit risky, Hermione,” said Lupin. “It’s quite possible that the Ministry is monitoring air-traffic in and out of international airports such as Heathrow for fleeing muggleborn. I think it would be best to simply keep track of his movements until we can establish a safe time and place for you both to meet and sort things out.”

Hermione bit her lip pensively and nodded. “Al...alright then. You’re probably right Remus. Th...thanks. Maybe... maybe when he checks into a hotel he could be... erm... prevented from leaving until I can get there and talk to him.”

“Yes... Yes, that’s quite a workable solution Hermione,” Lupin agreed. “Sirius and I will let you know when your father is settled in, and you can arrange your schedule to best suit your needs.”

Having concluded their conversations with Dumbledore, and Sirius and Lupin, the Potters hurriedly finished readying themselves for the day and joined the others who were already eating breakfast in the kitchen with Dobby. Harry quickly brought everyone up to speed.

“...and so we’ll all be looking up any other useful spells we can find and practicing for a bit - I’d say about a week or two tops! And then we’re heading for Wales to search for the facility there!” said Harry as he peered around the kitchen table, pleased to see everyone looking eager to begin.

“Smashing Harry!” Dora exclaimed. “I can’t wait to show those bastards what for!”

“We’re ready any time you are Harry!” Luna stated matter-of-factly. Parvati nodded in agreement.

“Hear, Hear!” said Fleur, her eyes glinting. “Ees time to do battle...”

Daphne’s features set in resolve; she was glad to have a sense of purpose once more, especially one which included ridding Britain of those like the Malfoys. Harry’s eyes came to rest on the one person who seemed to be paying little attention. Hermione was only listening with one ear as she had a piece of toast in one hand and her eyes glued to a thick book on the table. Harry observed her for a moment with bemusement. 

Hermione was suddenly aware of the silence around the breakfast table and her bushy head popped up with a snap.

“Sorry Harry!” she grinned sheepishly. “After the talk with Dumbledore earlier, I just got to thinking about a book that I’d found in Number Twelve’s library. I think it would really make a huge difference in our spellwork, and be really useful for our current mission.” 

Seeing that everyone was now focused on her, and that Harry didn’t seem to mind, Hermione continued.

“It’s a book about Covens, groups of wizards and witches that practice casting spells as a single unit - which increases the power of the spells. It’s a bit different, but sort of the way Harry and I do when we perform our Patronuses and some other spells together. 

“Covens are quite rare actually, and are generally frowned upon by ‘polite society’...” Hermione paused briefly, her face reddening, “...mostly because some of the rituals seem to require... er... erm... intimate behaviour all together to make it work properly...”

“Do you mean group sex?” Luna asked bluntly, looking very intrigued. Parvati giggled. 

Dora raised her eyebrows and smirked; Fleur seemed to find the idea very fascinating. Daphne looked shocked but slid her eyes over for a surreptitious glance at Harry who was turning beet red. 

“Er... yes,” said Hermione. “But after reading some of the book, I don’t think it’s an absolute necessity,” she quickly added. Luna and Fleur both looked a bit disappointed at that.

“As far as I can tell,” Hermione went on, “the most important thing seems to be that everyone involved really loves one another. That’s why you can’t really do proper Coven magic with a random group of witches and wizards. 

“Apparently most Covens tend not be very lasting, nor as powerful as they might otherwise be, because jealousy and infighting eventually disrupts most of them. The last real one in Britain that is known of was formed was in the 1960’s but it didn’t last beyond the mid 70’s.”

“What do you mean by ‘real one’...?” asked Parvati.

“Well - it would seem that quite a few muggles form Covens as part of neopagan religious practice, and others are formed by those who are part of the muggle occult underground...” Hermione continued scanning the text rapidly.

“And as I already mentioned, every so often wizards and witches try to make a go of it, but they don’t usually have what it takes to work spells together properly... and the ones that do work tend to be nearly always all female - though nobody really knows why.”

“So it would seem that real Covens are very rare, and that successful ones with males are rarer still... I suppose that’s why Covens in muggle literature tend to be associated with witches,” Hermione mused, biting her lip pensively, “Though being all witches is still no guarantee of long-term success. The Coven which broke up in the 1970’s was all witches...” 

“Maman does not like to talk of eet, but I ‘ave heard of such things among Veela,” Fleur interjected. “Ees hidden for much ze same reason, as rituals often include sex with many. Mos’ people do not approve.”

“Most muggles usually associate that sorta thing with devil-worship,” Dora snorted mirthfully. 

“Anyway, I really think we could make this work...” Hermione said earnestly, her eyes all big and pleading, “ _without_ the group sex. All that matters is that we really care a lot about each other...”

“But what about me?” asked Harry, seeing a wrinkle in Hermione’s plan. “It seems hard enough anyway apparently - especially if we’re going to give it a go without bothering with the... erm... er... orgies - and if Covens with blokes don’t really work, that sort of throws a wrench in things even if I am a metamorphmagus, doesn’t it? I mean - this is my natural form.” 

“I think you’re a bit of a special case, Harry,” said Hermione after a moment’s hesitation. She sighed inwardly, having hoped that Harry wouldn’t ask that particular question for his own sake.

“Oh!” said Harry, his face blazing hotly as the proverbial light clicked on in his head. “Yeah... I suppose,” he muttered. It was one thing to have discussed his feelings about who he was inside with Hermione, but Harry wasn’t sure if he was ready to share it with everyone else. He hoped that with a bit of luck nobody would really question Hermione’s answer and his vague response.

“It’s Harry’s female soul, isn’t it,” said Luna. “That’s why this will work.”

“Your eyes, Harry,” Parvati added, seeing his puzzled expression. “That’s what gives it away to anyone who’s really paying attention.”

Harry swallowed nervously and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. There was a moment of awkward silence, as nobody wanted to make Harry feel more embarrassed than he already felt, which of course made him feel all the more uncomfortable. 

“It’s alright Harry,” said Dora finally. “You can be yourself around us lot. I mean, look at us... most of us here are an odd bunch accordin’ to most of society. But you’ve never once acted like it was weird for girls to like other girls... And you’ve always been okay with Sirius and Remus bein’ together...”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded again, feeling a surge of confidence. “Yeah, that’s true. I... I suppose I just never really thought about it like that. I guess... I guess I always thought that _**I**_ was the weirdo... the odd one out.”

“I’ve always felt like that too,” said Luna with a giggle, “for one reason or another.”

Harry grinned, suddenly feeling much better. Hermione beamed at him and he felt ready to move on.

“Great! Well I reckon I’m ready to give this Coven thing a go then, if you all are,” said Harry.

Following breakfast the newly formed Coven used magic to clear out the red brick barn - which was really more like an enormous shed - and moved the muggle grounds-keeping equipment to the stables. Luna, Daphne, Parvati, and Jennifer, all began flicking through pages of schoolbooks looking for useful spells to practice. 

Harry pored over the Advanced Charms book, and also numerous advanced and specialised books which they had brought from Number Twelve’s library, while Dora and Fleur began casting Fortification Spells on the barn and Hermione continued to read the book about Covens.

“What are you looking for Harry?” Hermione asked when he sighed in frustration after leafing through the tenth book he’d looked at.

“I’m trying to work out how to make a sort of Room of Requirement of our own,” Harry replied with a frown. “I wanted to do that at Number Twelve when we cleared out the basement there, but we didn’t really have time because we were in such a hurry to rescue Mr Weasley. I figure that if we’re going to spend maybe a couple of weeks here practicing and preparing to locate and assault secret Ministry compounds, it might be worth taking a bit more time to find the right spells.”

“Oh yeah! That would be somethin’...” Dora chortled. “It’s funny - I only just realised - the Room of Requirement is a bit like the ‘Danger Room’...”

“‘Danger Room’...?” Fleur peered at Dora questioningly.

“It’s from a muggle superhero comic, the _X-Men_ ,” said Dora.

“The Room of Requirement is also a bit like the Holodeck from the second _Star Trek_ series,” said Hermione as she furrowed her brows in thought. “But there’s much more to it - it's more real - as everything it provides is completely physical and can be removed from the room - I still have some of the training books.

“The Room of Requirement seems to be able to create an infinite amount of extra-dimensional bubbles of space-time, tailored to the meet the needs of the individual. Though as many people have similar needs, it reuses some of the same rooms it has created over the years...”

“...Like the Room of Hidden Things. Exactly! ” Harry nodded excitedly. Hermione smiled at him apologetically.

“I’m sorry Harry, but I don’t think we’ll be able to do that here - at least not in the limited time we have. The Room of Requirement must be based on incredibly complex layers of magic... far beyond our current level of knowledge or capability. And it’s in a Castle which has been imbued with the magic of thousands of wizards for over a thousand years.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to find such a thing as a ‘Room of Requirement Creation spell.’ It could take us years of study and research to develop the skills and learn all of the magic necessary to create something like that from scratch - not mention spending decades saturating a chamber with enough magic for it to eventually become self-perpetuating and generate its own magic. I doubt even Dumbledore could do it - at least not by himself with a simple wave of his wand,” Hermione concluded.

“Oh!” Harry deflated. If Hermione thought that it was even beyond Dumbledore, Harry decided he would just have to try and forget about it for the time-being and put it on his and Hermione's ever-growing to-do list.

Dora frowned pensively for a moment, before sidling up to Hermione and sitting down beside her.

“Hermione,” she said quietly, “I dunno about that. I mean yeah... you’d ‘ave t’know loads of stuff like Advanced Arithmancy and specialised branches of Alchemy. But I reckon charging up a room with enough magic oughta be a breeze for you and Harry. I mean... look what ‘appened at Hogwarts just from you and Harry having sex in the Room of Requirement...”

Overhearing Dora’s hushed comment, Harry’s eyes widened. Looking up, his face began to sizzle, hotter than it had been just a short while earlier that morning, when he spotted everyone looking up from their books and listening intently... His and Hermione’s last remaining secret was out of the bag. 

Harry rubbed his forehead and shot everyone an embarrassed lopsided grin while Dora and Hermione conferred, not yet realising that they had an audience. 

“Even as protected as Hogwarts was before you two started ‘aving a bit of fun in the Room of Requirement together, it still would’ve been badly damaged by Voldemort’s attack...” Dora continued. “After all the professors’ extra Shields and Protection Charms were knocked out, Hogwarts should’ve been ‘alf-destroyed by all of the Death Eaters’ and Snatchers’ blasting spells, and the Trolls and Giants hammerin’ on the walls... but there wasn’t a single scratch on castle, nor a single window broken during the entire battle!”

Hermione quivered, and her own eyes began to shine with excitement as she gave the idea more consideration. Harry peered at her hopefully. Everyone leaned in to hear what Hermione had to say.

“Yes... yes, I think you’re right Dora. And we're only talking about one small building,” Hermione said finally as she began to nod. “It would still take us a fair bit of time to work out the right combination of spells and learn how to do them properly - that could still take months or even years of study. But once we do - Harry and I could probably generate enough magical power within a few weeks to turn a small building like this into our own Room of Requirement.”

“Not to mention that this Hill is already really magical - that might help too,” chimed in Luna. “I could feel it the night we first arrived...”

Hermione gasped with shock at the sound of Luna’s voice and her face turned bright red. Dora clapped her hand to her mouth, peering apologetically at the Potters for exposing their secret.

“They heard the whole thing,” said Harry, grinning. “Don’t worry Dora - it’s about time Hermione and I let everyone here in on the secret of our magic. It sounds like it’s similar to Coven magic, right Hermione?”

“Er...yes,” Hermione said weakly. “It’s not _quite_ the same, because _**our**_ magic also has a lot to do with our matching frequency signatures. But the emotional connections - the bonds of affection for one another - allows a Coven to achieve some very similar results in terms of increased power levels. Which I expect is why group-sex rituals are so effective for Covens... The intimacy encourages affection and solidarity, and generates lots of emotional content - the primary fuel of most magical spells 

“But I doubt that the Coven magic would have the same effects in terms of spell transmogrification - like doing the things our Patronuses can do. That seems to require the ability to generate increasingly higher resonant frequencies. The only way that could happen with a Coven would be if _**everyone’s**_ energy-field had matching or nearly matching frequency signatures, and that’s so mathematically improbable that for all intents and purposes it's impossible... Anyway, what were you saying Luna?”

“Jennifer’s estate - the Hill it’s on - it’s really magical,” Luna replied dreamily.

“Really?” gasped Jennifer, surprised to hear that the home she had lived in for years was on a magical piece of land.

“Oh yes!” said Luna brightly. “When you were in the village yesterday afternoon with Daphne and Harry and Hermione, Parvati and Dora and Fleur and I had a lovely explore. There’s fairy rings all over your estate, and the pond is enchanted. Fleur could feel it too... I could tell.”

Parvati and Dora grinned. They had both got a lovely magical feeling as well, but had thought it was just because the estate was so pretty.

Hermione’s curiosity was piqued; she had learned a long time ago to trust Luna’s intuitions, despite Luna’s tendency to believe in some things before all the facts were in. And after the Wrackspurts had turned out to be real, Hermione had become much more open-minded about things. And now that Luna had mentioned it, Hermione thought that perhaps she had sensed something ineffable herself. Hermione peered at Fleur, who reddened slightly.

“Er... oui,” said Fleur. “I did feel something per’aps - especially by ze pond in the gardens - but I did not want to say as I am unsure. Maybe, being part-Veela, I sometimes feel things others do not... but I do not know if that is true.”

Hermione was extremely curious now, and she wondered if her own senses would detect anything.

“Come on then...” said Harry, grinning when he saw the expression on Hermione’s face. “We might as well go have a look.”

The Coven wandered through the overgrown gardens and hedgerows, through long meadow grasses, past vine covered trellises, past rose bushes gone wild and moss covered Greek statues, until the manor was out of sight behind copses of tall trees. The wild mushrooms growing in concentric circles - the ‘fairy rings’ - were easily visible in the shorter bits of lawn.

Hermione began to tingle pleasurably all over, the sensation of static electricity becoming stronger as they neared the pond. She gasped as waves of elation overtook her when they reached the clear pool, its surface shimmering in the golden sun-rays peeking through the scudding clouds.

Harry could easily believe it. If anything looked like an enchanted pond, this would be it. Rushes and fern grew along its edge under willows and groves of evergreens, interspersed with unseasonably blooming wildflowers of all colours and hues, stone benches, and more statuary. 

Iridescent Dragonflies flitted to and fro, and Harry knew a Unicorn wouldn’t be out of place here. And he felt it, the ethereal blissful thrum of soundless music calling him and Hermione, rippling across his skin as it had in the mysterious room with the glowing orb in the Ministry.

Jennifer was ecstatic. This was her first time in the gardens of her family’s estate since she had become a witch, and it was an utterly different world to her now - more vibrant and alive than she had ever noticed before.

“Luna was right!” Hermione murmured, her face glowing. “I can feel the enchantment - it’s very strong. Witches must have lived here at one time - in ancient times - long before the manor was built. And I think she’s right about the fairies too. They’re staying out of sight right now. They’re still not sure of us... they’re frightened.”

Harry wondered why, remembering the live fairies Flitwick had decorated the Christmas Trees with during the Yule Ball. They had seemed to enjoy primping and showing off for wizards. Then it hit him.

“Yeah...” said Harry, “I bet! Having a Dark Wizard and his henchmen living nearby in the manor for a few months probably made the fairies a bit shy...”


	61. Truth and Reconciliation

It was hard to believe that it was already December 3rd, and even harder to believe that barely more than two weeks had passed since the Potters and their friends had fled Hogwarts. Ginny wasn’t sure how much to tell Luna about what had happened since they had left. The last thing she wanted was to worry her girlfriend and Harry and Hermione.

Ginny supposed that things could be worse. McLaggen would be out for the rest of the year and Towler was giving her a wide berth. And when Goyle had returned from St Mungo’s a week after that fateful Friday, hobbling around on a wooden leg and crutches, he and Crabbe had put to rest much of the disinformation being spread on the Wiz-Vision. 

Up until that point far too many Hogwarts students were inclined to believe the Ministry’s version of events despite all of Ginny’s and Katie’s and Alicia’s attempts to set the record straight. Loads of people had really seemed to take seriously the notion that Harry and Hermione had assassinated Draco Malfoy.

Ginny still couldn’t quite believe that Crabbe and Goyle had publicly backed her up. They had told everyone who would listen that it was all Draco’s fault, and that it was really Daphne and Ginny who had killed him while defending themselves. By midweek, the truth had spread and was the talk of the school. 

But the Carrows had finally caught wind that something was amiss, and by Friday they had determined to put an end to it. And that was when the real trouble had begun. Ginny had almost laughed out loud when Ron had showed up for lunch clad in naught but his boxers and a scowl on his scarlet face. All eyes in the Great Hall had swiveled to take a look and giggles filled the Hall.

The giggles had died down, replaced by murmurs and gasps of bewilderment when Ron was followed by a similarly attired Neville Longbottom, and a Susan Bones wearing nothing but a bra and knickers.

“What happened?” asked Ginny, shock written all over her face.

“That fucking bitch - Alecto Carrow!” Ron muttered as he savagely speared a banger and flung a serving-spoon full of mashed potatoes onto his plate so violently that it splattered all over the table.

“We knew the risks, Ron!” said Neville stoically. 

“Will someone _**please**_ tell me what’s going on?” Ginny asked again.

“Ron called Professor Carrow a liar,” said Seamus who looked both sympathetic and impressed.

“He _**what?**_ ... Why?” Ginny gasped.

“Carrow was goin’ on abou’ how Harry was a traitorous rebel an’ a murderer during Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Seamus replied. “...Said all the talk about you and Daphne killing Malfoy in self defence was lies. So Ron jus’ up and gave her what-for... said that Harry was a hero and called her a liar to her face...”

“Ron, you idiot!” said Ginny half-heartedly, sounding more sympathetic than anything. Ron said nothing, averting his eyes while shoveling mashed potato into his mouth.

“He was really brave,” said Lavender, seeing Ron with new eyes.

“But vot is with lack of clothes?” Viktor asked his girlfriend, “And vy Neville and Susan also?”

“Professor Carrow told Ron he was out of order and that he didn’t know what he was talking about,” answered Lavender. “So Neville supported Ron and said the Ministry was making things up, then Susan jumped in to support Ron and Neville...”

“...Then Carrow vanished all o’ their clothes before anyone else had a chance to say anything,” Seamus interjected, “and told ‘em they had to go to classes the rest o’ the day like tha’... and that they had to eat lunch in the Great Hall. Then she said if they caused any more trouble she’d vanish their underwear too...”

“And it’s bloody freezing in the castle,” Ron muttered angrily as he heaped more bangers and mash on his plate. 

Ginny had frowned and eaten the rest of her lunch in silence, thinking that perhaps Ron and Neville and Susan had been very lucky that Professor Carrow hadn’t forced them to go starkers right from the get-go. The story had spread quickly around the school and by Sunday everyone knew that the Carrows meant business and weren’t going to put up with any more talk about what had really happened to Draco Malfoy.

And so that was how Ginny found herself lying on her bed Sunday morning, staring at her mirror and wondering how much to tell Luna. Ginny had a bad feeling that the Carrows were chomping at the bit to start implementing corporal punishment if anyone else stepped out of line, and Ginny knew that if she told Luna what was going on at Hogwarts she would just worry herself silly...

**~o0o~**

“Ginny says everything’s fine,” Luna told Hermione when she asked how Ginny was doing at breakfast. “But I’m not sure that she’s telling the truth... I mean, _Ginny’s_ obviously alright, but I think someone else might have got in trouble.”

“I hope Ron hasn’t done anything stupid,” Harry sighed. 

“Well, he _should_ be okay, right?” said Parvati uncertainly. “Ginny could’ve got in loads of trouble after what happened to Malfoy, but Percy didn’t let anything happen to her.”

Hermione frowned worriedly as she ate her poached egg on toast, wondering how bad things might get at Hogwarts if the Minister got too frustrated. She suspected it was only a matter of time before Minister Umbridge let the Carrows take things out on some of the students, if only to try and force Harry and Dumbledore to turn themselves in. But Hermione didn’t voice her concerns, not wanting to worry Harry.

After breakfast the Potters and their friends hit the books again. They found a number of spells which looked useful that they hadn’t learned yet in the advanced books from Number Twelve’s library. Harry had discovered the Firestorm spell which Mad Eye had told him about, and also a powerful Shield Penetration spell in one of the books.

“These two would be good to practice as a Coven. I think Voldemort and some of his Death Eaters must have used the Shield Penetration spell at Hogwarts when they were attacking from the mountainside. And the Firestorm spell should be easier to control than a Dark spell like Fiendfyre,” Harry told everyone as they sat in a circle on the floor of their refurbished practice room.

“I want to rescue any prisoners they might have, blast the place to bits and burn it to the ground,” he continued. “But I don’t want to start something that could spread uncontrollably. And I want to avoid killing unless we absolutely have to.”

“That sounds good Harry!” said Hermione. “What do you think Dora?”

“That sounds like a good plan to me too,” Dora nodded. “Anyway, we won’t all have time to learn all of these spells,” Dora mused as she perused the list of spells that everyone had come up with. “Some we’ll have to forget about. And others we should portion out - just a few of us should concentrate on learning them...”

“For example, I already know the Homorphus Charm - that’s the one for forcing a werewolf or animagus or someone who has disguise spells on them back into their true form. I could teach a couple of you that one.”

“That makes sense Dora,” Hermione agreed. “I wouldn’t mind learning the Homorphous Charm. What about the spell that Daphne found - the one that detects Proximity Alarm Charms and disarms them?”

“Yeah...” Dora muttered as she chewed a fingernail. “Yeah... I think you’re right Hermione. We don’t all need to know that one, but at least two of us do - we should be prepared to split into two smaller four person teams if necessary...”

“I don’t want us to split up...” Harry interjected, feeling a surge of anxiety.

“But we might _have_ to - Dora’s right Harry!” said Hermione. “We need to be prepared for that possibility. We all have mirrors, so we’ll be in constant communication.”

“Okay... I suppose so!” Harry sighed. “But not unless it’s absolutely necessary!”

“Alright then Harry,” said Dora. “If we do ‘ave to split up, I’ll lead the second team. I’m thinking that for the most balanced teams, it should be me and Fleur with Jennifer and Daphne. You and Hermione should be with Luna and Parvati. So I suppose I’ll learn the Alarm Detectin’ and Disarming Spell. Haha... Never thought I’d ever be learnin’ breaking and entering spells,” Dora chuckled. “You should be the other one to learn it, Harry.”

“Maybe I should learn a basic healing spell then,” said Parvati, her brows knitted in thought. “You and Fleur are the only ones who know that one Dora.”

“Good point Parvati,” agreed Dora.

“I want to learn the Piertotum Locomotor spell,” said Luna with a grin. “It’s like a good version of the Inferius Curse. It was used mostly to animate and direct regiments of suits of armour and statues to fight for their masters in battles, instead of reanimating dead bodies.”

Hermione smiled, having guessed that the “ _Bedknobs and Broomsticks_ ” spell would probably appeal to Luna. 

“Ooooh... I like the sound of that one!” Daphne said excitedly. “Maybe I’ll give that one a go too.”

“If you can manage it, you two - that one’ll take a bit of doin’ - but I’ve ‘eard that’s a good one. It oughta’ work on any group of objects and cause them to hurtle at the enemy,” chortled Dora. “Now, I already know ‘ow to Obliviate, but someone on your team Harry...”

“I’ll do that one too,” said Hermione. “Harry’s going to have enough to deal with as it is. And I was thinking, in terms of Coven spells, that some of the other spells most important to focus on will probably be the more advanced shield spells, Harry.”

“Right!” Harry agreed. “Well, we’ve all got our work cut out for us. We’ll be up against a load of highly trained Ministry wizards, so we need to keep up on our combat spells, and make sure that we’re up to scratch. Any other ideas?”

“Per’aps for ze mission, we should bring some electronic equipment, such as Jennifer’s portable radio and mobile phone,” said Fleur. “When they start to go crazy and stop working properly, we shall know zat we are close to magical area.”

“That’s genius, Fleur!” Harry exclaimed. “That’s the last thing the Ministry would expect to have to counter for at a hidden facility away from any muggle cities.”

“I am only uncertain - how do we find ze place if it has Unplottable or Fidelius Charms?” asked Fleur.

“Too many Ministry wizards will need access to the facilities for a Fidelius Charm to be feasible,” Hermione answered. “And for similar reasons, it’s nearly certain that they will only have the mapping version of the Unplottable Charm - not the visual-field version. It should be visible to wizards once we’re very near it.”

“Alright... I think we’ve nearly got everything covered,” said Harry. “I'll check everyone's Runic and Chinese Symbol Tattoos... make sure they haven’t faded. Anybody else have something to add?”

“If we’re going to be searching in woods and mountains for hidden places, we might be gone for days,” said Jennifer. “I’ve got loads of camping gear, but you’ll need to put that Space Extension Charm on the tent so that there’s room for all of us in it, Hermione.”

“Good idea,” said Hermione, nodding as she added it to the preparation list. “Now, this mission isn’t just about destroying these facilities and fighting whoever’s running them. If we want to go after the Ministry openly and directly, we need evidence that Luna’s father and Rita Skeeter can show when they break into the Wiz-Vision broadcasts. 

“So we need to consider how to go about that... There’s nothing in the books as the magic television system is really new. I’m not sure exactly what Dumbledore has in mind, perhaps showing copies of our memories in a pensieve?”

“Hermione,” Jennifer interjected breathlessly, her eyes gleaming with a sudden idea, “I’ve got a video camera. If you can make it work with magic maybe they can show the recordings on the Wiz-Vision...”

“That’s brilliant! I think that’ll work,” Hermione beamed, “That solves an issue that’s really been bothering me.” 

“Excellent!” Harry exclaimed with a grin, “I suppose we’re ready to get cracking then...”

**~o0o~**

“Sir... sir, we’ve landed...”

Richard Granger groggily opened his eyes when he was shaken awake by the British Airways stewardess. Despite his weariness after nearly twenty four hours in the air and a brief stopover in Singapore, he still managed to find some appreciation for the attractive young woman, leading him to wonder if he would ever find someone to share his life with again. 

Richard crossly tried to suppress the unwanted introspection and focus on the task at hand as he collected his luggage and made his way through Customs. But it was hard to avoid the stray thoughts now that he was once again on English soil. 

Now that he was back in the land of his birth, Richard’s mind couldn’t help but return to thoughts of his biggest regret, the night and following morning that he’d let his temper get the best of him and driven his wife and daughter away. 

He had shocked himself with his own behaviour - convinced himself that it was wholly out of character - and yet he still couldn’t help thinking that it wasn’t entirely his fault. If only Jean and Hermione had seen reason - seen that all he wanted was what was best for their family. 

Everything had gone wrong since the day Hermione had received the wretched letter from that madhouse. Richard should have never let her talk him and Jean into letting her go to Hogwarts to begin with.

Why couldn’t they see it? They were both bright, intelligent women who valued Knowledge and Reason, and yet first his daughter, and then his wife... they had both succumbed to a belief-system that violated every scientific principle. Believing in magic was irrational, the product of an aberrant view of the world. 

Certainly, there had been some strange incidents as Hermione had grown, but there had to be scientific, rational explanations for everything, even if they were unapparent at first blush. In retrospect, it would have perhaps been better to have sent Hermione to some sort of research facility which studied people who displayed odd “talents” as he had wanted for her in the first place. No doubt all the other dangerous nutters who exhibited such abilities - running amok in their secret society unchecked by proper authorities - belonged in institutions as well for the safety of all.

But Jean had consistently and obstinately refused, saying that she didn’t want their daughter to be treated like a lab-rat, allowing herself to be governed by a hysterical paranoia that such institutions were merely a front for military or espionage agencies to subject people to inhumane experimentation. No doubt influenced by seeing one too many science fiction thrillers like that ridiculous Stephen King film, _Firestarter_.

And Hermione had been so delighted at the idea that she might finally find a school where she would be accepted and not bullied by her peers for her inestimable intellect and voracious thirst for knowledge that she had leapt at the chance to go. Paradoxically, Hermione had been all too eager to believe that she was a witch and chuck away everything she had been taught, and Jean had only encouraged her foolish fairy tale fantasies.

Richard had given in despite his reservations, only wishing happiness for his daughter, and had for a while done his level best to pretend that she was off at a boarding school like any other. But that had proved more and more difficult as time went on, what with the letters Hermione had been sending home. 

Richard had left it to Jean to read them, only half-listening when she read them out loud, but he couldn’t miss the fact that Harry Potter’s name came up often, in particularly glowing terms. It was clear that Hermione had fallen head-over-heels for the boy, and Richard didn’t like that at all - and he'd liked it even less after he'd learned of Potter’s history. 

Indeed, while Richard went out of his way to avoid discussing magic, he tried to make it clear to Hermione that he wasn’t at all comfortable with her friendship with the boy. It was only under the pressure from Hermione for him to meet Harry for himself that Richard had agreed to that ill-fated trip to Diagon Alley. And Richard’s fears had only been confirmed when he’d seen the dirty poorly dressed hooligan who looked like an extra from _Oliver Twist_. 

After the debacle in the bookstore, Richard was done with the wizard world. He would have dragged his daughter off right then and there too if he’d had his wits about him, but he was too furious and had simply stormed off with his wife. Richard had made a point of ignoring Hermione’s entire Second Year until she had come home. 

And even then, he had struggled to avoid the subject altogether, hoping they could just get through the summer and take their trip to France until Jean had finally had enough and had tried to sit them both down to discuss things. Jean had asked Hermione point blank to fill in the details that had been missing from Hermione’s increasingly sparse letters in Second Year.

And that’s when he’d completely lost it! 

Well what did Hermione and Jean expect? That Richard would be happy that his daughter was running around getting into trouble with Harry Potter and their halfwit ginger friend? That he’d be pleased that Hermione had been in constant danger of being killed by a giant snake and had turned half-cat after drinking some sort of potion? 

What if she’d been stuck like that forever? How on earth would Richard have been able to explain that to the plastic surgeons he would have inevitably had to pay for to give Hermione some semblance of a normal life. 

No! He had made the right decision at the time that Hermione would have to give up her fantasy of being a witch, and be sent to a proper institution where they would study her and find a way to reverse her dangerous abnormalities. 

There was no way Richard would have changed a thing if he had to do it all over again... Except to have exerted better control over his temper - that had been his only mistake, and it had cost him everything. He had driven Hermione away, right into the arms of the boy who was destined to be a murderous terrorist.

Now it was time to fix his mistake, no matter what it cost! 

And if Hermione continued to insist on staying underground in hiding and making things difficult, Richard would spare no expense to hire the best detectives and cult deprogrammers to find her if he had to. He would find her and make her see Harry Potter for who he really was - show her how the world saw him, a dangerous villain with no redeeming qualities. 

Richard suddenly realised that he was standing on the pavement in the pouring rain with his luggage in front of the London Hilton near Hyde Park where the cabbie had dropped him off. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Richard Granger strode into the hotel to check in.

An hour later, after several cups of coffee and a number of phone calls, Richard readied himself for his appointment with a Scotland Yard Inspector. He looked in the mirror and straightened his tie. Satisfied that he looked respectable enough, Richard Granger marched to the door of his hotel suite.

Richard stared at the door, puzzled when the handle wouldn’t turn. He tried it again - several times, grunting in exertion as he tightened his grip and rattled the door-handle vigorously. Fuming, Richard grabbed the phone to call the front desk, only to discover there was no dial tone. Angrily, he began hammering on the door and bellowing, hoping someone would hear him and release him from his imprisonment...

**~o0o~**

The rain was coming down in buckets, the wind driving it against the windows of Jennifer’s manor. It was midafternoon and Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table having Tea with Harry and their friends, enjoying the savoury flavour of one of the best pork pies she had ever eaten.

“Dobby, this is absolutely heavenly!” she gushed. “The pastry is perfectly flaky...”

“Thank you Mistress Hermione,” Dobby squeaked, beaming at her praise, his little cheeks turning pink. 

Harry grinned; he couldn’t agree more. 

“Yeah, these are smashing Dobby... the best. Better than anything from Tesco,” he said, glad now that he had been talked into taking a break from training. He was distracted by the sound of Sirius’s voice emanating from the mirror sitting on the table.

“It’s for you Hermione,” said Harry, hearing her name. Hermione’s demeanor shifted suddenly to one of nervousness as she picked up the mirror.

“Hello Hermione,” said Sirius, smiling at her sympathetically.

“Er... H...Hi Sirius! Is... is he here then - my father?”

“Emmeline tells me that he checked into the Hilton safely shortly after noon,” Sirius replied. “He settled in and apparently made an appointment with someone at Scotland Yard... no doubt to file a missing persons report and to tell them that you had been kidnapped by Harry...” 

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. Harry sighed and shook his head.

“Not to worry though Hermione,” Sirius continued. “Emmeline made sure that your father wouldn’t be keeping that appointment. He’s in his hotel suite and the door is sealed - it’ll only open for you. And just to be clear, he’s at the Hilton by Hyde Park.”

“Thank you Sirius,” said Hermione gratefully. “Harry and I will get ready then and be there as soon as we can...”

“Er... I will?” said Harry, raising his eyebrows. “Are you sure that’s a good idea Hermione?”

“Yes you will!” Hermione responded firmly, giving Harry a hard stare. “It’s about time you met him properly and we settle this once and for all!”

Harry gulped. He knew better than to challenge Hermione when she had that look in her eye. Sirius couldn’t help chuckling.

“Best of luck you two,” he said with a wink. “You should probably take Dora with you for backup... Anyway, I’d best be going. Dumbledore needs me and Remus to scout out a village in Northumberland.” 

It took a short while to get ready as Hermione changed her clothes and gathered up some things. Harry wondered if he should change into something smart to make a better impression than he had the last time he’d seen Mr Granger, but all he had was his tuxedo.

“You look fine Harry,” Hermione assured him. “Jeans and a t-shirt are best for now as you’ll want to alter your appearance until we’re actually in Dad’s hotel room.”

“Oh... er... right,” said Harry. 

He morphed into his Harriet form and took a deep breath. Dora performed the disguise spells on Hermione and the three of them stepped out of the manor to apparate to Hyde Park. Hermione marched into the hotel and located her father’s room after asking at the front desk, followed closely by Harriet and Dora.

Hermione knocked on the door of her father’s suite, puzzled when he didn’t answer. Harriet shrugged when Hermione glanced at her. Hermione looked around to make sure nobody was watching and then raised her wand to perform the Alohomora Charm. Dora shook her head. 

“You should probably just try the handle,” Dora suggested. “Sirius said it would work for you.”

Hermione nodded. Cautiously, she turned the handle and cracked the door open, peering around anxiously. The last time she had seen her father was the night he’d gone ballistic.

“Daddy,” she said quietly, “Are you in here? 

“Er...” said Harriet, spotting what looked like a figure slumped on the sofa on the other side of the room. “I think that’s him over there.”

Dora shut the door behind them and lifted the disguise spells on Hermione. Hermione frowned, glancing at the coffee table by the sofa which appeared to be strewn with a number of little bottles. Stalking across the room, her eyes boggled at the sight of her disheveled, passed out father and she wrinkled her nose at the smell.

 _“Daddy!”_ she said sharply. Richard Granger’s eyes suddenly snapped open, seeing a blurry figure with bushy hair looming over him.

“Her...Hermione... ish that really you?” he slurred.

“Yes it’s me!” Hermione snapped. “You’re drunk. Since when do _you_ drink?”

“Hermione?” said Richard disbelievingly as the room span, not having heard a word she had said. He wondered if he was just having a drunken daydream. “Hermione...?” he repeated.

“Dora, is there a spell for this sort of thing?” Hermione asked. “I can’t talk to him like this.”

“Enervate should do it,” Dora replied, her eyebrows raised. 

She waved her wand and muttered the incantation. Richard Granger’s head began to clear as the room stopped spinning and came into focus. 

“Hermione,” he gasped. “How... what? ...” he eyed the other two girls with his daughter. One of them nervously ran her fingers through her shoulder length black hair. “Are... are these your friends?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “What happened to Potter? Are you still with him?”

Hermione’s nostrils flared as she felt a surge of anger. She glanced at Harriet.

“Well?” she said. 

“Er...” Harriet swallowed, taking note of Mr Granger’s expression of suspicion. “If... if you’re sure about this Hermione.” 

Richard’s eyes widened in shock when the girl’s features began to change, her figure becoming more angular, her black hair shortening, and a lightning shaped scar appearing on her forehead. For a moment Richard sat there unmoving, then without warning he lunged forward. 

Taken by surprise, Harry staggered, reeling when Mr Granger’s fist connected with his jaw. 

_**“Daddy, no!”**_ Hermione shrieked, whipping out her wand. Wand already in hand, Dora beat her to it and Mr Granger was flung back onto the sofa.

“Don’t even think about tryin’ that again,” Dora scowled. “Hermione and Harry are just here to talk and sort things out.”

 _ **“If you’re trying to prove that you’ve changed since you hit Mum, you’re doing a piss-poor job of it!”**_ Hermione shouted.

“What? I didn’t ... I mean...” Richard sputtered angrily. “Look, I said I’m sorry about hitting your mother - I didn't mean to - I just lost control of my temper. It’s not the same dammit! Don’t you know who your boyfriend is? He’s a bloody terrorist! ... A violent murderer just like I said he was! For all I know he could snap at any moment and kill _**you!”**_

“Don’t be bloody ridiculous!” Hermione fumed. “First, you never even apologised to me or Mum _**properly!**_ YOU’RE the one who frightened the living daylights out of me! YOU’RE the one who was violent...” 

“I only lost it because I love you Hermione,” said her father, looking slightly ashamed. “I really didn’t mean to frighten you or your mother. I... I was just scared for you... scared I was going to lose you. You mean everything to me - don’t you understand?” 

“Not really Daddy,” Hermione replied, her features softening a bit. “You’ve hated Harry for as long as I can remember... ever since I first wrote to you and Mum about him, without even once meeting him. I could tell from your bit of the return letters that you didn’t like him... and I really don’t understand why! 

“As far as I know you didn’t know _**anything**_ about Harry’s actual history until the following summer when you found one of my wizarding history books lying around...”

“Look... I... You’re not a father Hermione,” Richard responded, casting around for the right words to explain. “You’d have to be a father to understand how it feels when a boy is obviously putting the moves on his daughter... You were only twelve for chrissakes!”

“And Harry was only _**eleven,**_ you idiot!” Hermione huffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Harry barely even knew I was a girl... let alone knew anything about _‘putting the moves’_ on one. I loved Harry because he was the first real friend I’d ever had... the first person to not treat me horribly for being a swotter... the first person to actually like me for who I was.”

“But he’s a _**murderer**_ Hermione! Your boyfriend killed a man... and he’s grown up to be a terrorist!”

Hermione rolled her eyes, wondering how her father could be so stupid.

“Harry was ONLY ONE YEAR OLD when he killed Voldemort!” she snapped. “And he didn’t even really kill him because Voldemort had done something to stop himself from dying... I explained that bit about Voldemort in the letter I wrote to you when Sirius sent you to Australia - _for your own safety!_

“And if you’d REALLY been paying attention when you read that stupid history book, you would have seen that VOLDEMORT was the murdering terrorist, and that he was killed after MURDERING HARRY’S PARENTS and trying to kill Harry when Harry was ONLY A BABY!!! 

“But now I finally understand why you never actually read the book properly... You were so blinded by the IDIOTIC notion that an eleven year old boy was trying to get into my knickers that all you could see was ‘Harry Potter killed Voldemort’ ... Harry didn’t officially become my boyfriend until the end of Third Year, when I was fourteen and he was thirteen... and that was only because **I** _‘put the moves’_ on _**him!”**_

Hermione hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should tell him the rest, but she was still so angry at her father that she couldn’t resist.

“And by the way, for your information, Harry isn’t my boyfriend anymore... he’s my HUSBAND!” she said with a hint of vindictive satisfaction. The look of shock on her father’s face was priceless. Harry groaned and hid his face in his hands.

“But... but... you’re only sixteen!” Richard moaned. “How? ... Why? Did he get you pregnant?” Mr Granger shot Harry a dirty look.

“No, he didn’t get me pregnant. We use Contraception Charms and Potions...” Hermione sniffed haughtily. Her father cringed at the notion that his little girl was having sex.

His face blazing hotly, Harry briefly considered making a run for it. Dora tried her hardest to stifle a chortle. This was hardly the time for laughter.

“Anyway, marriage at sixteen is perfectly legal,” said Hermione a bit more gently, “and Mum told me that Auntie Gertrude got married to Uncle Alfie when she was fifteen. Harry and I love each other very much, and if you want a relationship with me, you’ll just have to deal with it!”

Richard gaped at his daughter, hardly daring to hope.

“You... you still want a relationship with me? After everything?”

“Of _**course**_ I do Daddy!” Hermione said sincerely. “Just because I’m angry with you doesn’t mean I don’t love you. You’re my father... I never really stopped loving you - even after you hurt me and Mum. But I mean it, if you want to be in my life, you’ll have to get used to Harry being in it too.”

Richard felt a pang, the only thing still holding him back was all the wizard and witch nonsense. Hermione frowned again, seeing the hesitation.

“Look,” she said, surmising what the problem was, “Harry’s NOT a terrorist! The Prime Minister made it up because he’s in cahoots with the current Minister of Magic, who is just as horrible as Voldemort was, and just as obsessed with killing Harry... not to mention that she wants to kill me too.”

Hermione pulled a pamphlet out her bag and tossed it on the table. Curious despite himself, her father picked it up.

“ _Mudbloods and the Dangers They Pose to a Peaceful Pureblood Society_?” he muttered. “What’s a Mudblood?”

“Me!” said Hermione curtly. “A wizard or witch born to non-magical parents. Pureblood Supremacists are like Nazis, and they hate people like me, just because our parents don’t have magic blood. Harry’s mother was from a non-magic family too, and Harry’s _**always**_ looked out for me and tried to protect me from them.”

Richard glanced at Harry again, feeling something new, something he couldn’t quite admit to. Swallowing anxiously, Richard looked at his daughter.

“Er... shouldn’t you leave England then? You... you could come to Australia with me... you and Harry both. I’m still not sure about all the magic rubbish... but... but I’m willing to try and not let your beliefs come between us.”

Harry peered at Mr Granger incredulously. Mr Granger had seen magic with his own eyes. How could he think it wasn’t real? Hermione was thinking much the same thing.

 _“Seriously_ Daddy? You’ve seen the things wizards can do...”

“That’s not what I mean,” Richard said quickly. “I... I’m not denying that you and others don’t have certain... er... abnormal abilities. I... I just don’t believe it’s magic. This mystical wizard and witch stuff is just fairy tale nonsense. There has to be a rational scientific explanation for it all...”

“Oh Daddy,” Hermione giggled, “of _**course**_ there’s a scientific explanation for it all. It’s all got to do with quantum physics and the genetic ability to manipulate reality on a quantum level. It doesn’t matter whether you call it magic or not. It’s just called that for want of a better word for it.

“And in any case, I’m not entirely certain that I’m the first one in our family tree to have magical abilities.” Hermione reached into her bag again and handed her father the book Harry had given her for Christmas in Third Year. Richard Granger’s jaw dropped.

“Hector Dagworth-Granger?” he gasped. “You mean...?”

“Yes Daddy,” she sighed, “it’s quite possible that there was a branch of our family long ago which had some magical abilities, which means that you may have some recessive magical genes yourself, and passed them on to me. Though mine are dominant genes of course. I had to get those genes from somewhere...”

Richard Granger’s head spun again, this time not from over-indulging in alcohol, but from the mind-boggling concept that he himself could have possibly been born with active magical genes under the right set of circumstances. He rubbed his forehead with both hands and groaned. How could he have been so stupid? Of course Hermione had to get her genes from somewhere.

Hermione beamed, seeing that her father’s breakthrough was complete; now all that remained was to explain to him that he was still safer in Australia while she and Harry helped Dumbledore and the Order save Britain. Harry breathed a heavy sigh of relief when it appeared that Mr Granger no longer believed that he was a threat to Hermione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Just to be clear, I am in no way condoning Mr Granger's behaviour, but rather, showing his character's motivations, which reveal that he is a human being with complications and flaws (poor coping skills for dealing with upsetting things, and certainly a tendency to let his temper get the better of him). He knows what he did was wrong, and he does have some redeeming qualities. A lot of fathers in his situation, and who believe (rightly or wrongly) that their daughter is besotten with a terrible, dangerous guy would no doubt have similar feelings, though many would deal with it far more appropriately._
> 
>  
> 
> _I don't really put him in quite the same category as Uncle Vernon who is just a nasty violent bully who doesn't even think he's doing anything wrong and who has almost no redeeming qualities._
> 
>  
> 
> _And whether or not you agree with Hermione forgiving her father, you have to admit that it's in her nature to express herself openly when she's angry and yet to also be understanding and forgiving of people she loves._


	62. Day of the Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning for this chapter:** _Horror, some gore..._

“I’m so sorry Harriet!” said Hermione guiltily, holding a plastic bag full of ice to Harriet’s throbbing jaw. “I should have been more prepared for that. I just thought... I mean... I don’t know... maybe I’m just naive...”

“I’m alright, _really,_ Hermione!” Harriet exclaimed, trying very hard not to wince and make Hermione feel even guiltier. “I’ve had way worse from Uncle Vernon! At least your dad is more or less alright with me now. I’m just glad that it’s all over...”

“Hmmph!” said Hermione, a frown replacing her look of concern. “It’s just the beginning really... a good _**start.**_ I love him dearly, and I’m happy enough to forgive him to a certain degree now that he seems to _**finally**_ believe me about you, but Dad’s still got a _**lot**_ of work to do before he can truly make amends to me and Mum for how he treated us... really show he’s sorry in a meaningful way. 

“He clearly still has difficulty controlling himself when he gets angry, and he possibly has a drinking problem if he handles all of his upsets now by drowning them in alcohol. And I admit, it... it’s still really hard for me to reconcile the man I saw in there - the man who nearly broke my door down - with the father I grew up with... He always seemed so calm and peaceful, so together...”

“That’s it right there though, innit!?” said Dora after taking another sip of her lager. “‘E was probably used to holdin’ it all in... bottling up his feelings all those years - probably raised that way. People like that can sometimes blow big when they finally snap... and they don’ always ‘ave the right emotional tools to deal with the anger once they’ve let it out.”

“I expect you’re right...” Hermione bit her lip, then sighed and took a sip of her own frothy lager, briefly noting the irony. 

After seeing her father and eliciting an agreement from him to return to Australia with the promise to visit him, Hermione had been too wound up to return directly to Jennifer’s. Harry had become Harriet again and a freshly disguised Hermione had dragged her and Dora to the nearest pub. Hermione had just been intending to have a fizzy lemonade but Dora had already popped up to the bar and returned with lagers for everyone by the time Hermione and Harry had found a relatively secluded booth.

“I just wish there was more I could do to help him,” Hermione went on after a moment. “If he had someone he could talk to... some sort of counselor... I wish there were support groups for muggle parents with wizard children.”

“Y’know, we could probably arrange that,” said Dora. “If ‘e’s not so dead set against magic any more, we might be able to find your dad someone to talk to in Australia... a wizard counselor. Sirius can ask his contacts to recommend someone. They might even have support groups for muggle relatives of wizards for all I know... nearly all wizards in Australia are either half-blood or muggleborn.”

“Oh, that’s excellent Dora!” said Hermione, beaming. “You’re right... It should be easier now to convince Dad to see a wizard counselor...” 

Having cheered up a bit, Hermione managed to put it behind her and just enjoy herself, sharing a very wet evening in London with Harriet and Dora. After finishing their lagers, the three of them found a cinema showing the latest comedy featuring a gangly American actor as a pet detective and had a good laugh before apparating back to Jennifer’s.

**~o0o~**

Two weeks of training flew by and it was mid-December before anyone knew it. Harry was quite surprised and Hermione was especially thrilled that the Coven training had been going so well, despite the lack of orgies. She had suggested to Harry that they try working on a number of basic spells and practicing them all together for at least an hour every day to get used to it.

They experimented with casting spells in various formations as indicated by the book about Covens. After several days of successful practice as a Coven, Harry finally broached the subject which had been on his mind with Hermione shortly after they had woken one morning.

“Hermione,” he began, “I know you said that everyone had to have similar energy frequencies to make some spells have different effects, but are you absolutely sure? D’you think that it’s possible to make a difference to the others’ Patronuses if we practiced them as a Coven?”

Hermione bit her lip as she thought about it. She clambered out of bed and retrieved a number of books from the bookcase in their bedroom. Climbing back into bed, Hermione leafed through the book _Covens in Theory and Practice_ to find the relevant pages. Then she opened up a very complicated looking book, _Metaphysicorum: the Algebra of Alchemy_. 

“This is more or less the wizarding version of Quantum Physics,” she said, seeing Harry’s bewildered expression. 

Hermione picked up another book, _The Alchemy of the Spirit_ , and flicked through it. “And this one is about the human energy-field, from a perspective of European and Egyptian Alchemy. It’s very informative but it only covers knowledge from ancient times to the late17th century, though it does have a section about Spirit Pairs, and even Spirit Triads which are apparently a thing too... They’re much rarer than Pairs obviously. 

“This one is much more up to date in theory and terminology about magic and its relationship to electricity, regarding what we discussed with Dumbledore,” she added, showing Harry another book, _The Hierarchy of Resonant Frequencies: The Transmission and Amplification of Magical Energy_ by Nikola Tesla. 

“I found it in Number Twelve’s library when we were in London for the trial. One of the sections explains in more modern scientific detail how ‘Spirit Pairs’ work, though Tesla calls the principle ‘Coupled Bio-Energetic Resonance’ when applied to the interaction between the energy-fields of two humans. 

“According to Tesla, electromagnetic energy fields operate differently. He calls the principle Coupled Circuit Resonance when applied to electricity, which is how Tesla Coils work, but in that case there are primary and secondary circuits with the primary being resonant and the secondary is anti-resonant. 

“Whereas when it comes to magical energy between two matching humans, there really is no primary and secondary, because the energy cycles through them as if they were a single unit... If my understanding is correct - and I’m really not entirely certain - the human magical energy field in an individual already contains the magical equivalent of a primary and secondary electrical circuit...”

Without pausing to take a breath, Hermione placed a fifth book on the bed that was now quite familiar to Harry, The _Wizarding Edition of the Tai Chi Classics_ , and opened it to the Qigong addendum.

“...And of course,” she continued, “this is probably the most detailed and accurate illustration of the circuit of the human magical energy field...”

Harry felt more than a bit lost as Hermione continued to lecture while speed reading through the sections of the books, but he waited patiently for her to put it all together and work out an answer to his question. Hermione finally stopped talking and bit her lip, frowning pensively. Harry could almost see the gears spinning and whirring in her brain.

“Hmm, it might be possible I suppose,” she muttered, apparently to herself.

“What might be? D’you mean the others might be able to cast Patronuses like ours?”

“Maybe. It’s hard to be certain, but I think they possibly could after all... at least while we’re all connected - while performing them as part of the Coven spell. Some of the pairing and triad principles seem to apply, despite not having matching energy signatures. 

“As I mentioned previously, part of what makes Covens work is having strong emotional connections to one another coupled with physical proximity. The emotional energy field - which is distinct from the magical energy field, but still has effects on it - of each individual synchronizes with the others when in group formation and everyone is focusing their Intent on the same Objective. 

“That leads to the amplification of emotional energy, which is what makes Coven spells more powerful than if performed by a group of wizards without the same strong emotional connections to one another. Now, it appears that while linked, the frequencies of the ‘spirits’ - the magical energy fields of the human form - could be temporarily altered and synchronised to match. 

“But only if the members of the group subordinate their own Wills to a Leader’s Will - which I suppose could be the Will of a Matching Pair or Triad....”

“Wait,” said Harry, a knot of distaste in his stomach forming as he caught the gist of it, “D’you mean like slaves and cult-members who serve their Masters?”

Hermione peered at Harry apologetically and tried to think of the right words to explain it without upsetting him too much.

“Well... not so much slaves - unless they’re slaves with Stockholm Syndrome like most house-elves - but I’m afraid _yes_... very much like cult-members. A Coven isn’t entirely different from a cult with very few members, relatively speaking. The same principles apply - a group of people aligned on an emotional level who are directing their Intent and Energy to a Singular Purpose or in the case of a Cult a Singular Individual. 

“When that focus is on one person the group dynamic changes from an equal distribution of Emotional Energy to what you can picture as a pyramid with that one person - or one Pair or Triad - at the top. 

“In the case of a proper Coven with _**real**_ magic, Magical Energy can also be channeled through a leader instead of everyone contributing and receiving the magic on an equal basis, and the leader in turn releases the energy back to the group, closing the circuit and temporarily syncing everyone else’s Magical Frequency Signature with the leader’s. 

“The resonance produces the same power levels of the standard Coven formation (keeping in mind that it is the intensity of emotional energy which fuels the power of the magic behind the spells), but in this case the frequency of the magical energy ramps up as well, resonating at exponentially higher and higher frequencies, just like we do when we cast spells together.

“Of course, once the spell is finished and that particular formation is broken, everyone’s magical and emotional energy fields revert to their original frequency signature. So it is possible that while everyone is connected directly to us in the ‘pyramid’ formation, they could generate Patronuses like ours, but their Patronuses would otherwise be normal once unlinked...” 

The image of the pyramid structure of the energy flow vs the image of what Harry considered a normal group structure with everyone at equidistant points - an Octagram at the moment in their case - formed in his brain and finally the pieces began to fall together. Harry felt that he at least had the gist of it now, even if not fully comprehending all the details. There was something nagging at Harry though. 

“But why do ours - the magic behind yours and my Patronuses - resonate even when you and I are apart,” he asked, a question which had been bugging him for a while. “During Voldemort’s siege of Hogwarts I was able to conjure a Patronus all by myself as powerful as when we’re doing it together.” 

“My best guess is that’s because we’re never really apart, even at a distance. We might be linked by something modern physicists call ‘Quantum Entanglement.’ It could be that because our Energy Fields have the same frequency signature we’re like a single subatomic particle that’s been ‘split’ in two... 

“Each particle is still essentially the exact same particle in what is called ‘non-local’ space - which then appears as two linked across the three dimensions of spacetime that we’re used to. If I understand things correctly, I think this is because all subatomic particles can be viewed as either a wave or a particle, depending on how you look at them. 

“Applying the same principle to us, that could explain why your Patronus was just as powerful when you cast it by yourself...”

Hermione paused and peered at Harry, watching hopefully as he tried to wrap his brain around the concepts and form images in his mind. After a few moments she saw something click. Harry nodded, his face brightening.

“I don’t really get all the details, but I think I actually got the upshot on the first go round, Hermione,” Harry said with a grin. “That actually makes sense to me...”

Hermione beamed at Harry and hugged him. “We’ll make an Arithmancer of you yet,” she whispered. “And maybe an Alchemist too...” Hermione paused to give Harry time to enjoy the moment, then she bit her lip and dropped the bombshell.

“There’s just one slight problem,” Hermione moaned. “Well... it _could_ be a problem... but maybe it’ll still work. Anyway, I... I was wrong! ... It seems that sex _**does**_ come into things! ...”

“Wait,” said Harry, not sure if he was hearing right, “You mean as in... er... all of us together?”

Hermione nodded sheepishly. “I’m sorry Harry. Until I compared all of the relevant material side by side I didn’t really understand how much positive intimate physical contact plays a role in Coven spells... or maybe I just didn’t want to. I mean... we already knew it made some difference to our own magic... Dumbledore even called it ‘sex-magic’ when we were discussing things after the Third Task...”

Harry groaned. “Couldn’t we just... I dunno.... group hug maybe?” he asked.

“Well... there _might_ be a work-a-round. But to finish out my thought and answer your question - it doesn’t mean we can’t do Coven magic - we’ve already seen that we _**can.**_ But without the... er... sex, we’ll never reach our _**full**_ potential, and it’s quite possible that it might take that level of commitment for everyone else to conjure Patronuses like ours...”

Harry gaped at Hermione’s neutral expression. Was she actually considering it? He struggled with a brief moment wondering if he would even be able to perform, as the idea was slightly terrifying to him. Harry did his best to scrub the scenes his imagination had conjured from his mind; it was too much like cheating - there was no way he would ever do that to Hermione.

Hermione watched Harry cannily as she continued, feeling more than a hint of satisfaction as she read the expressions on his face.

“But it’s also possible that we _**could**_ manage it without the sex,” she went on. “We’ll just have to try it and see what happens. I suppose a ‘group hug’ actually wouldn’t hurt to try as well...”

“But if that doesn’t work, what’s the ‘work-around’ you were thinking of?” Harry asked.

“Well...” said Hermione, “in theory it’s possible that we could pair off in a hallowed space large enough that all the couples could find a bit of privacy without cutting off the flow of magical and emotional energy...”

“...And everyone would be in some sort of geometric formation with each couple at the corners,” Harry interjected with a nod. “Yeah... I could see how that might work... maybe around the pond... bushes and foliage to hide us...” 

Harry frowned as he trailed off; the whole idea still weirded him out a bit, but Hermione still had a perfectly neutral expression on her face. He supposed if it came right down to it, there really wasn’t any reason not to at least give it a good try other than embarrassment. It would be worth it if it really did help them reach their full potential as a Coven. But then another problem occurred to him. Harry sighed and slumped as Hermione nodded...

“You see the problem then,” said Hermione. “Luna and Parvati aren’t a couple...”

“Maybe we could sneak Ginny out of the castle for a... er... a date with Luna,” Harry suggested. “Ginny really ought to be part of the Coven too anyway.”

“I agree,” Hermione replied. “And yes, we could actually sneak Ginny out through the portraits. And as long as Ginny doesn’t go past the wards surrounding Jennifer’s estate I think they’re strong enough to block her Trace. But there’s still a problem...”

 _“Parvati,”_ Harry sighed. “She doesn’t have anyone to pair up with... and I don’t know if she likes girls anyway... I suppose if she had a boyfriend... But that wouldn’t work because of the whole Covens being a female thing - mostly... Besides, it would have to be someone else who was already close to us...”

Hemione patiently listened to Harry think out loud in fragmented sentences until he ran out of steam. 

“Bugger it!” said Harry finally, heaving another sigh. “I guess we’ll just group-hug and hope for the best...”

**~o0o~**

Hermione had explained what they were about to attempt to the others. She tried to gloss over some of the details as there seemed little point in getting everyone’s hopes up only to dash them as she had with Harry. But Hermione had little luck when Luna pressed her, revealing all she had learned and the snag that she and Harry had hit upon. Soon everyone was falling all over each other laughing about the narrowly avoided “sex-party” while Harry’s face burned like a furnace.

For their part, Luna and the rest of the Potters’ friends took it all in good fun, finding some amusement in gently teasing Harry and Hermione a bit for being their Objects of Worship - even if only temporarily while performing some particular spells as a Coven. Indeed, there seemed to be an awful lot of whispering and giggling coming from Luna and Parvati and Dora and Fleur.

Harry did his best to put aside his distaste for being a part-time co-“cult-leader,” and practicing their Patronuses as a Coven - under his and Hermione’s “control” - became a part of their daily routine as December grew even colder and wetter. Without Dementors or Inferi to test them on, it was hard to know if everyone else’s Patroni would exhibit some of the same effects as the Potters.

But the dazzling brightness of the others’ Patroni and the intensity of the euphoria induced by the highly refined eddies of magic swirling around them was a very hopeful sign. Harry felt exceptionally giddy, intoxicated by the incredible amounts of magic flowing through him. 

The phrase “drunk with Power” popped into his mind, sobering Harry and reminding him why he had been so reticent to take on the role of “cult-leader” to begin with. He wondered if this was how Voldemort felt when his followers bowed and scraped before him and called him Lord without a shred of irony.

Harry tried to remind himself that he and his wife and friends relied on each other out of friendship, out of love, not out of a state of terror and hate. A glance at Hermione confirmed for Harry that she shared his mixed feelings. He was glad that the Weasley Twins couldn’t see him now, certain that he would never hear the end of it, sure that they would make up some ridiculous deity titles for him and Hermione - God of Broomsticks and Snitches, and Goddess of Libraries maybe.

Hermione was having reservations of her own. Seeing Harry struggling to maintain some sort of control over his emotions and the feelings of Power surging through him made her feel a bit better about her own inner-battle. 

It was easy to see why most Cults were focused on a charismatic individual rather than actually operating as communally as they pretended to be on the surface. And it also appeared to explain - at least in part - why the power structure of society remained more or less pyramid shaped despite a semblance of democracy in some public institutions. Once in a position of power, it would be hard for most not to succumb to the feelings of invincibility and to start believing in one’s own superiority to justify the permanence of the imbalanced power arrangement. 

But it also occurred to Hermione that the key difference between the Coven and most other groups when arranged in a pyramidic form was that she and Harry were closing the circuit, allowing the energy to freely flow back to the rest of the group. In most groups, those at the top left the circuit open, hoarding the energy, keeping the power for themselves, whatever form it came in: wealth, political power, emotional energy... 

Hermione wondered if Voldemort’s power at his height had come in part from drawing on the energy created by inspiring terror in others. Had Voldemort engaged in Dark group rituals to attain such power for himself? 

It seemed quite plausible, even likely. Even though a Dark group like Death Eaters could never truly be a Coven, one thing had become clear from reading the books, a wizard with the right set of skills could nonetheless draw upon the emotional energy of the group they commanded and make it his or her own, fueling their magical spells with it. 

Finally the day arrived that the Coven had set for themselves to make last minute preparations. They packed their bags, pored over lists, making last minute adjustments as needed. Harry and Hermione left Dobby with instructions to look after Hedwig and Crookshanks, and Dobby reminded the Potters that he was available at the call of his name should they need him on their mission. 

Satisfied that they were as ready as they would ever be, the Coven made an early night of it to assure that they would be up bright and early the following morning.

**~o0o~**

The snow continued to fall from the pearly-grey skies as the Coven looked out from the top of a mountain across the rigid peaks and blanketed valleys of one of the most remote regions of Wales. Fleur shivered, grateful for the thick parka and the Rune tattoos which would protect her from the worst effects of the biting cold.

Jennifer peered from under the hood of her own well insulated coat at the mobile-phone in her gloved hand. She had no service in this location anyway, but the phone wasn’t doing anything weird otherwise, and seemed to be all in order. Daphne, who was taking a turn with Jennifer’s Walkman, shook her head, indicating that the radio signal seemed to be operating with little or no interference.

Hermione glanced at the compass she had brought. It had been a last minute addition when it had occurred to Hermione that a malfunctioning compass could also be an indication of a nearby magical facility; however, at the moment, the compass appeared to be working just as it ought to. The rest of the Coven shuffled and glanced at one another, awaiting the next decision.

Harriet sighed as she peered down at the mist shrouded lake and snow covered woods below, seeing nothing in the vicinity to indicate a settlement or wizarding facility of some sort. She had to remind herself that this was only the second day of searching the entire country of Wales, and she hoped that the Order was having better luck searching for the other facilities around Britain.

“Right... well, I suppose it would be best to set up camp down by the lake before it gets too dark,” said Harriet.

“Sounds great, I’m bloody freezing,” said Dora, her voice muffled by the long woolen scarf wrapped around her face.

**~o0o~**

If one were looking from the outside, all they might have seen would be what looked like a perfectly ordinary, pale-blue two person tent, covered in snow, near a copse of trees by the lake. They would have been very surprised if they had managed to open the flap and peer inside, for they would have seen what appeared to be at first glance, eight perfectly ordinary teenage schoolgirls of varying ages, on holiday in a tent large enough to fit at least twenty lying down.

Sleeping bags were piled on four large mattresses at the rear of the tent, and towards the front was a large rectangular wooden table with two attached wooden benches - big enough to seat ten comfortably, five to a side. In between the table and the mattresses was a brazier filled with warm, smokeless blue flames.

Five of the girls were snuggled cozily on the mattresses, chatting in low tones, listening to a boom-box, and occasionally giggling. The other three girls were sitting hunched over one end of the table, poring over a grid map.

“You can cross off all of those squares Harriet,” the girl with bushy tawny-brown hair said brightly. “We’ve apparated through all of that region and checked it thoroughly with spells, the compass, and Jennifer’s mobile phone and Walkman...”

“Yeah... that just leaves a few hundred squares to go Hermione!” Harriet retorted in a weary, vaguely sarcastic tone. “Blimey - this could take us weeks!” she concluded with a sigh, giving Hermione an apologetic look.

“Cheer up Love,” said the eldest girl with ash-brown hair. “We shouldn’t ‘ave to do all of Wales. We’ll hit all of the National Parks and Wilderness areas first, and we’re bound to run across it before we ‘ave to branch out to more traveled countryside and farmland...”

“Dora’s right, Harriet!” Hermione murmured sympathetically as she hugged and kissed the girl with tumbling black hair and pretty green eyes. “Try not to feel too discouraged.”

“I’m trying... I know you’re both right!” Harriet sighed again. “It’s just... who knows how many muggleborn have been rounded up so far!? I know it’s good that we prepared as best as we could, and learned some more spells and practiced as a Coven, but I wish we hadn’t had to take the time.”

“Well, the Minister didn’t start openly operating her programme until the day after she sent Percy Weasley to Hogwarts with the Unspeakables to arrest Dumbledore,” Hermione replied. “That’s only about four weeks ago. And I think most muggleborn are going to be too sensible to offer themselves up to the Ministry - so they can’t have got too many yet.”

“I hope my dad’s okay,” Dora muttered. “I ‘aven’t spoken to my folks in a good while - not since I quit workin’ for the Ministry - and he’s muggleborn. I shoulda’ asked Dumbledore to have the Order look after him and Mum.”

“Your Mum... she’s Narcissa’s sister isn’t she?” asked Harriet. “Andromeda, the one who Sirius’s mum blasted off the Black family-tree tapestry?”

“Yeah... that’s right Harriet!” Dora nodded.

“I never really thought about it much until Mr Carrow started going on about the pureblood families at school, but I suppose we really are related somehow... by marriage anyway,” said Harriet. “I asked Sirius if Charlus Potter and Dorea Black were my grandparents when I spotted the Potter name on the Black Family Tapestry. But apparently Charlus Potter was a first cousin of my grandfather, Fleamont Potter, so Dorea Black isn’t technically my blood relative, but still...” 

Hermione’s eyes widened. She recalled Harry asking Sirius about it, but hadn’t given it much thought either.

“Is that right? I never really looked at that tapestry hard enough to notice the Potter name,” Dora’s eyebrows popped up in surprise. “I suppose that does make us cousins - or cousins in-law? ... is that a thing? I dunno really. Past first cousins, I can never keep that sorta thing straight... too bloody complicated!”

“I suppose that means that Draco Malfoy was sort of related to you too then, Harriet,” said Hermione.

“Er...” Harriet gulped. She really hadn’t given her family tree much thought beyond her father and mother until very recently. “Yeah... I guess so Hermione! Urgh! That’s bloody disgusting!” Harriet muttered in horror, her face reddening as it fell. “I can’t believe it... first I’m related to Voldemort, and now Malfoy?”

Hermione grinned and threw her arms around Harriet and planted a big kiss on her lips.

“Harriet, I’d love you no matter who you were related to!” said Hermione earnestly, giving Harriet half a dozen more kisses for good measure.

“We’d all still love you Harriet!” said Dora, giving the younger girl a hug too.

“Thanks! I needed that! I just hope I’m not somehow related to Minister Umbridge too!” said Harriet, making a gruesome face and sticking her tongue out. Feeling much better, Harriet looked at the map again, her eyes catching a familiar place-name.

“Huh! Godric’s Hollow isn’t that far away really,” Harriet muttered, a distant look in her eyes. “It’s in Gloucestershire, the other side of the Welsh border - just a couple hundred kilometres south-east of our current location...” 

Looking at the map to see for herself, Hermione couldn’t help but notice that Jennifer’s home in Dorset was actually much closer to Godric’s Hollow than where they were at the moment in Wales. It became apparent to Hermione that seeing the town on a map for what might be the first time was hitting Harriet pretty hard, no doubt tempting her to go off-mission. 

Hermione bit her lip and furrowed her brow, concerned that Harriet’s improved mood was evaporating again. There was one thing that Hermione knew would put Harriet in a more lasting good mood, but in the tent with the others there really wasn’t any privacy. And given the snowdrifts piling up outside the tent, finding a quiet spot in the woods wasn’t an option either. Still, Harriet was usually responsive to the next best thing.

“Come on,” said Hermione, taking Harriet’s arm, “That’s enough of that for now...” 

Hermione tenderly pressed her lips to Harriet’s, hoping to distract her. It seemed to be working. In no time, Hermione was snuggled up with Harriet under a sleeping bag, both of them sighing contentedly as they watched the dancing blue flames in the brazier and listened to Jennifer’s boombox with the others. 

The wind picked up and howled through the valley, turning the snowfall into a blizzard, driving the snow against the rippling fabric of the little tent near the copse of trees by the remote lake. The trees began to sway, limbs whipping as strong gusts swept snow across the half-frozen surface of the lake.

If one were looking from the outside, they might have seen the pale-blue tent glowing with the light which indicated that the occupants inside were weathering the snowstorm in perfect warmth and safety. But one would be very unlikely to see or notice such a thing even if one were walking very near the tent.

Indeed, even a wizard would have missed the sight, because the little camp bravely enduring the bitterly cold weather was well-warded with every Concealing and Protection Charm the witches inside could think of.

**~o0o~**

The third day of searching had been just as fruitless as the first, and Harriet had been forced to concede that it would be better to split into two smaller teams to cover more ground. But by the end of the fourth day of looking in the woods which the Coven was currently searching, all thoughts of continuing the search in separate units had been abandoned.

It was nearly midday when Fleur, Daphne, Dora, and Jennifer came across the little village. Though even the term village was perhaps a bit too grandiose to describe the small community, which was little more than a grouping of about thirty cottages on the outskirts, surrounding a village centre which was no more than a dozen terraced-houses, a church, some offices, a tiny schoolhouse, and a few little shops. 

Snow was falling again, though not as heavily as it had the day before. Everything was otherwise still and quiet. There were no slushy tire tracks in the road, no footprints on the pavements, no sign that anyone had recently traveled to work or school. 

“Where is everyone?” said Daphne curiously as they waded through the snow covering the cobbled pavement and peered into the window of the local druggist. “I mean, it’s not like everyone’s snowed in...”

“Maybe everyone’s in the church?” suggested Dora.

“Maybe,” Jennifer frowned apprehensively, glancing at the few empty vehicles at the side of the road. “But it’s the middle of the week...”

“I do not like this! Ees too quiet,” murmured Fleur, shivering from a little chill which had absolutely nothing to do with the frosty temperature.

“Well, surely there’s someone minding the Grocers,” Dora said brightly, hoping to raise everyone’s spirits. “Why don’t we find something for lunch then?”

The others nodded and murmured their agreement, stepping carefully around icy patches as Dora led them to the little village grocery. A bell tinkled when Dora pushed open the door and entered the shop. One by one, Jennifer, Fleur, and Daphne stepped under the icicle laden eaves and followed her inside.

“That’s funny, the dates on these labels are a few days old,” said Jennifer as she peered at the ready-made sandwiches through the glass of the refrigerator window. “I suppose they should still be alright though... just a bit stale.”

As Dora grabbed some bags of bacon flavoured crisps and Fleur picked through fruit looking for the best apples and oranges, Daphne walked to the rear of the shop where she spied the fridge containing fizzy drinks, next to the storage room door which was slightly ajar. A low groaning sound caught her attention, and she heard shuffling footsteps.

Probably just the shopkeeper, she thought, reaching for a bottle of Coke. The muggle drink was relatively new to Daphne, but she had decided that she quite liked it.

“Does anyone else want a Coke?” she called out to the others.

“Oh... yeah! I’d love one... Thanks!” said Dora.

“Yes please!” Jennifer replied.

“Do zey have any lemon-ginger fizzes?” Fleur asked, glancing around nervously, as another wave of trepidation came over her.

“I’ll see...” began Daphne, turning back to have a look.

Daphne gave a start when the door of the store-room swung out a bit further. A mottled grey hand - fingers sticky with a dark reddish brown substance - gripped her arm and she screamed. The bottle of Coke tumbled from Daphne’s hand and shattered on the floor.

Dora, Fleur, and Jennifer had their wands out in an instant, their eyes widening in horror when they saw the someone tightly clutching Daphne’s wrist and pulling her closer, her mouth wide open as if to bite Daphne.

“Relashio!” yelled Dora. 

Daphne stumbled backwards, screaming, shaking with terror as she fell into Jennifer’s arms when the woman released her.

 _ **“What are you doing?”**_ Jennifer shrieked at the lurching, moaning figure. “What’s wrong with you?”

“She can’t hear you, Love,” Dora said in a shaky voice as everyone backed up towards the front door of the shop. “She’s dead - that’s an Inferi...”

The woman lumbered forward, arms reaching out again, her face as grey and discoloured as her arms. She appeared bloated, fluids leaking from her sunken eyes. Her mouth and chin were covered in the same dark stickiness which could only be blood, which also appeared to be splattered down the front of the woman’s blouse and skirt. Now that everyone could see the woman clearly, the ragged gaping hole in the side of her neck was more than apparent.

“Zere ees nothing zat can be done for ‘er now zen,” said Fleur thickly, swallowing as a tear trickled down a pale cheek. “R...reducto!”

The staggering corpse lunged as Fleur muttered the spell, disintegrating before it could reach any of them. Shaking with fright, hearts pounding, the foursome stumbled out of the shop back into the snow, slipping on icy patches, all thoughts of lunch forgotten.

“D...D’you think the wh...whole v...village is dead then?” stammered Jennifer, blinking back tears.

“Some mighta got away,” said Dora, peering at the partially snow covered vehicles again. “But it’s a very small town... who’s to say?”

“But why... why didn’t help come?” asked Daphne, who almost looked ready to cry herself. The idea of everyone being dead too awful to contemplate. What about the children? “Couldn’t... couldn’t they have called for help on those telephone things?”

“Dunno really!” muttered Dora. “Maybe it all happened too quick - nobody knowin’ what was happening before it was too late...”

“We must call Harry,” said Fleur, forgetting momentarily that Harry was still Harriet. “Eef village is all dead.... there could be more of those things. Zey cannot be allowed to run amok!”

“Yeah... yeah of course Fleur,” Dora responded, fumbling for her mirror as she tried to keep herself together. “We should do a thorough search - look for any survivors - and make sure all the Inferi are destroyed. We’ll need all hands on deck for that.”

Moments later four apparition cracks echoed in the village centre.

“Bloody Hell!” Harriet swore when Dora told her everything. Hermione’s features were ashen; Luna and Parvati gaped in horror.

“Yeah... that about describes it...” Dora muttered sardonically.

“We’d better go house to house then,” said Harriet, her face stony and her voice grim, “And we’re all sticking together this time,” she continued adamantly. “If we just find one or two of them, Reductors will be good enough. But if we’re swarmed, we’ll try Patronuses... I suppose we’ll finally find out if yours will work like mine and Hermione’s.”

“Alright Harriet!” Hermione nodded, “Let’s start with the Grocery then, make sure there’s nobody still in there, and work our way outward...”

The sight in the Grocer’s storeroom was dreadful, and the stench of death awful, turning everyone’s stomachs. Daphne didn’t know how she could have missed the smell, which had surely been wafting through the slightly ajar door while she was getting drinks. She took one look before running back into the main part of the store and emptying the contents of her stomach on the floor, heaving several times.

Blood spattered the faded yellow walls of the storeroom, and the floor was still slippery where the blood of the other victim was still puddled too deeply to have dried yet. The other victim’s body had clearly been too badly mutilated to be lumbering around and infecting others with the Contagion Curse.

Much of the flesh had been eaten away, and a leg gnawed off, the head dismembered from the rest of the body. But what remained twitched convulsively on the floor. Harriet grit her teeth, trying very hard not to throw up as she disintegrated the main part of the corpse while Dora and Hermione took care of the separated leg and head.

They spent the afternoon together exploring the entire village, finding nobody alive. Every member of the Coven was called upon to disintegrate tens of victims who were too mangled to chase them, and also to vaporise more than a few Inferi who staggered in their direction, seeking fresh blood to feast on. 

Cautiously entering the church, the Coven found the worst scene they had come across yet, pieces of undead corpses twitching on the floor, blood everywhere, and nearly twenty badly mutilated members of the congregation lurching towards them.

“Patronuses!” yelled Harriet. 

At her direction everyone uttered the incantation as one. The victims of the Inferius Curse withered and blackened, groans becoming screeches, their flesh turning to ash as their skeletons stilled forever and clattered to the floor. 

Despite their success at the church, Harriet felt disappointed; it had been impossible to tell if anyone else’s Patronus had worked as hoped, due to the fact that everyone’s Patroni had all been directed at the same group in a confined space. Hermione reckoned they would need a much larger group of Inferi (or Dementors) that was more spread out to be really be sure.

As bad as the tableau at the church had been, the scene at the schoolhouse proved even more devastating. Parvati jumped and shrieked when a little hand reached through the metal bars of the fence railing surrounding the school. Luna peered at the little girl on the other side of the railing with a puzzled look. The extremely pale girl with bluish lips just stood there in the snow, staring, with no obvious injuries.

“Hello,” said Luna to the girl after a moment of silence. “Are you alright? We just want to help you.”

“Is... is she alive then?” asked Parvati, her heart still pounding like a jackhammer.

“I theenk per’aps not,” said Fleur, pointing behind the girl. Everyone had been so focused on the little girl, they hadn’t noticed the pink patches of snow on the ground near her. By all appearances the patches appeared to be blood under fresh layers of snow.

Suddenly the girl lurched at the bars of the railing, hissing and reaching through once more. Everyone jumped back; Daphne slipped and fell on her backside, breathing in shallow rapid breaths. 

As the girl turned her little body to try and reach further through the railing, the reason for her behaviour became more obvious. The back of the girl’s blue coat was ragged and torn, stained with blood. Hermione struggled to hold back her tears.

“She... she must have been bitten but got out of the school before she turned,” said Hermione. “There’s a partly opened window there. Maybe she slipped out through it.”

Harriet lifted her wand to use a Reductor, but hesitated. This was much harder to deal with than the others, who had more clearly been walking corpses. There was something about the little girl, her brown eyes, the brown curls - just a bit darker and a bit less yellowy than Hermione’s - peeking out from under her hood. Harriet let out a sob and fell to her knees, lowering her wand. 

“I... I can’t,” Harriet gasped. Hermione knelt down beside Harriet to embrace her.

“‘S’alright, I got it Harriet,” Dora murmured, lifting her wand. 

“Wait,” said Hermione. “If you use a Reductor, there’ll be nothing left of her... nothing to bury. If she’s got other relatives out there, they’ll never know what happened to her.”

Dora swallowed. Everyone glanced at each other uncomfortably, thinking about the others they had already vaporised. This was wholly unlike shooting spells at Inferi from the top of a castle tower. This time it was up close and personal, seeing the Inferi as Victims in their own homes and places of business, seeing them as people who had lived and been loved, not as Monsters to be put down without a second thought.

Hermione lifted her own wand. “Expecto Patronum,” she muttered, her nostrils flaring with emotion. Moments later, all that remained of the girl was a skeleton in a blue coat as ashes mingled with the falling snow.

Harriet scrambled to her feet with Hermione’s assistance, both of their faces glistened wetly with tears which were freezing to their cheeks. Setting her jaw with resolve, Harriet beckoned the others forth. Carefully they entered the schoolhouse and went from room to room. 

It took every ounce of effort, every ounce of Will, for the group to find their best feelings to conjure and maintain their Patronuses under Harry and Hermione’s leadership. Everyone tried directing their own Patronuses at different groups of the undead children, but in the end, Harriet and Hermione were left with the task as only their Patronuses had the desired effects. 

Harriet gave up all hope that the Coven would ever be as truly effective as it could be. 

Luna raised her eyebrows and shared a look with Parvati. At the earliest opportunity, they both stood off to the side conferring in whispers.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the Coven after the schoolhouse. The others kept an eye out as Harriet and Hermione used their patronuses on the rest of the victims that they came across. At least eight homes at the edge of the village simply appeared empty, looking ransacked as if families had rifled through their belongings for the barest necessities and fled. Harriet slumped miserably onto a sofa in the last house.

“Thank goodness some got away!” sobbed Parvati.

“I hope none of the people who escaped were bitten...” said Luna tearfully.

“But if some got away, surely they would have warned authorities!” Daphne squeaked. “I understand the Ministry not knowing or caring if there weren’t any wizards in the village, but why... why wouldn’t the muggle government send people to mop up?”

“Perhaps it was too small of a community for them to care about?” proffered Dora, not quite believing it herself.

“Maybe they all voted the wrong way in the last election,” snarled Hermione cynically, dabbing at her tears with a hanky before trying to shake off that horrible thought. “But that doesn’t really explain why the government wouldn’t want to put them down once they’d all ‘turned,’ like they have when Inferi attacked other communities in Britain...”

“Ees not like you and Harriet already say? Per’aps ze muggle government leaves a few around to create terror, but zey cannot ‘ave too many in more populated areas,” Fleur mused aloud. “What better than jus’ to ‘ave a few roaming ze countryside where there are not so many people, but just enough to frighten everyone else...”

“Yeah...” Harriet nodded. “Yeah, that does seem most likely. The PM probably only calls the Minister to fix things when there’s too many of them for muggles to deal with without burning everything to the ground. The Ministry is probably keeping track of the ones they know about to make sure there aren't too many.”

“We’d probably better search the surroundin’ area too,” said Dora, “...make sure there aren’t any more of ‘em.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Harriet remarked sadly as everyone nodded. “We’d better get to it while it’s still daylight then. I don’t want to be doing this after dark...”

As the snow continued to steadily fall, the Coven went back to work, combing the surrounding woods carefully. They spent the last few hours of the afternoon searching, and were slightly cheered when they found no more Inferi.

Just before dusk, they apparated to the area located on the next square on the grid-map, and set up the tent under some snow covered yews near a stream after doing a sweep to make sure that there were no Inferi lurking in the new area to be explored.

Somber and shivering, the Coven hung up their snow covered parkas once inside the tent, and huddled together wrapped in soft blankets and robes next to the warm blue flames which Hermione conjured in the brazier. After they had warmed up a bit, the Coven’s appetite returned finally, as nobody had eaten since breakfast.

“There’s no need to make anything tonight, I’ll just call Dobby,” said Harriet, when Luna started to rummage in one of the bags for some food. “We should just try and rest up - today was horrible.”

Harriet felt a bit less miserable when a gleeful Dobby appeared - it was nice to see a happy face. Half an hour later everyone dug into the delicious meals which Dobby had prepared. Having sensed the gloomy mood, the happy house-elf had provided each of them their favourite comfort foods.

“Thanks Dobby, that’s absolutely fantastic,” said Harriet with a blissful expression as she took a bite of the mouthwatering shepherd’s pie. “You deserve another raise....”

“Oh, _no_ Master... er... Mistress Harry,” Dobby replied cheerfully. “Dobby is not knowing what to do with all the riches which Mistress Harry already provides!”

Harriet was pleased when Hermione and Fleur nearly spat out their coq au vin in snorts of laughter and the rest of the Coven couldn't help bursting into giggles at Dobby’s confusion. After dinner, Harriet took a chance and morphed back into Harry form. Soon everyone was snuggled in a heap inside sleeping bags and under some enlarged blankets, as close together as possible to ward off the nightmares.

**~o0o~**

Albus Dumbledore whirled around, his gaudy robes billowing, flames lancing from his wand and engulfing the group of roughly fifty lumbering, moaning Inferi which he had lured into a rocky gully. Snape and Moody blasted several who tried to escape with Reductors. The three of them stood watch as the rest burned, making sure that none of the flaming Inferi could run off to start a wildfire or escape destruction by smothering the flames with snow.

Night was upon them, and they were beyond the outskirts of a tiny village in Cumbria, near the wild area where they had been searching for one of the Ministry’s facilities. Dumbledore was relieved when Remus and Sirius called him to report that the villagers all appeared to be safe and sound, though he felt a deep sense of loss for the poor souls of the victims of the Contagion Curse in the gully.

“Bellatrix’s handiwork I expect,” said Snape coldly as he disintegrated another escaping Inferi.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore nodded, stroking his long silvery beard which was glowing orange in the light of the blazing inferno below.

Dumbledore glanced at Severus, grateful for his presence, but not quite able to keep a hint of concern from crossing his features. Snape looked up and saw the flicker of orange flame in Dumbledore’s blue eyes.

“You didn’t think that I’d be any more contented than Potter and his friends to remain safely hidden behind the walls of Narcissa’s estate while the world turns to ash around me, did you Headmaster?” Severus asked wryly, lifting his eyebrows.

“No... I suppose not!” Dumbledore chuckled.

**~o0o~**

Breathlessly she stumbled through the doorway as her heart pounded in her ears, beads of cold sweat dripping from her forehead. She was in another room that she didn’t recognise, hopelessly lost. Flinging open the next door with a bang, she heard the grunts and moans of the horde approaching, the stench of rotting flesh unbearable. She ran down the unknown corridor, hoping it would lead to escape.

Her foot caught on the ragged edge of a hole in the threadbare carpet, sending her tumbling to the floor, skinning her knee. She struggled to get back to her feet but an oppressive weight seemed to be holding her down. Panic set in when she realised that they were in the corridor now; she rolled over to face the approaching Dead and fumbled in her robes for a wand which she couldn’t find.

The lurching corpses were upon her, viscera spilling from their middles, blood drooling from their gaping maws. Despite the skin peeling from its rotting flesh, there was no mistaking the walking corpse holding her down - it was Draco Malfoy, his leering features still all too recognisable, the killing gash across his neck dripping blood onto her face. 

She couldn’t stop screaming as more and more of the Undead piled on top, grabbing at her arms and legs with cold grey hands, tearing into her with their teeth. 

“Ssssh... it’s alright Daphne... they’re not here... they’re not here...” murmured a gentle voice. “You’re safe.... I promise! Ssh...”

As she shook violently with fright, Daphne realised that the arms around her were comforting, the bodies against her soft and warm. Tender lips pressed wetly against her own, the scent of breath sweet and fresh, and as Daphne’s nightmare faded she realised that they were Jennifer’s.

Daphne’s trembling began to ebb under Jennifer’s consoling caresses and kisses. Someone dabbed the cold sweat on her forehead with a soft cloth and she looked up to see Harry’s worried green eyes and messy black hair, and Hermione’s anxious face framed by tumbling ringlets.

“We’re all here Daphne... we won’t let them take you...” said Hermione, wrapping her arms around Daphne.

Everyone offered Daphne hugs. As she settled back down in the midst of her friends, Daphne couldn’t help but feel safe and warm in the embrace of the Coven, knowing that they all loved her.

“Thanks guys,” Daphne murmured with a little smile as she burrowed back inside the large sleeping bag with Jennifer. “I feel loads better now!”

Jennifer curled an arm around Daphne’s waist, snuggling against her back. She leaned over and took Daphne’s lips with her own for a deep soulful kiss. Daphne rolled over to face Daphne and return her embrace. Daphne could hear the others settling inside their own sleeping bags and under covers and sighed contentedly. Slowly but surely, Daphne drifted into a peaceful sleep.

**~o0o~**

Though her terror had been perhaps the most profound, having actually been briefly in the clutches of an Inferius, Daphne wasn't the only one feeling unsettled that night. Fleur had lain awake long after Daphne and most of the others had fallen asleep earlier that evening.

Fleur had been unable to get the image of the youngest victims of the Contagious version of the Inferius Curse out of her mind. She knew that there was nothing she could have done for the little ones, once dead. But surely, there must be a way to counter the curse carried by the bites of the Inferi before it took hold and killed the victim, passing along the curse from one to the next. 

Fleur had still been awake, her mind churning ceaselessly, when Daphne had begun quaking in her sleep and woken with a scream.

Harry had been beyond disturbed himself; the same gruesome images that haunted the minds of the others were in his as well, the same heaviness on his heart. But he put his own fears and grief aside to focus on those he loved. He’d had more than his share of horrifying nightmares in the past, but those had been muted by time. 

The little girl at the school had triggered a strong reaction in him. Harry was having much difficulty clearing the image of the living-dead-Hermione from his mind. And being forced to put down the Cursed children they had come across in the schoolhouse was taking its toll as well. 

But Daphne and Hermione and the rest of Coven - seeing to them was more important than his own anxieties right now. After helping settle Daphne, Harry had given Hermione a hug and a kiss before lying back down next to his wife.

“Are you alright Harry?” Hermione whispered as he cuddled up behind her, sensing him trying to squash his own trepidation to be strong for everyone else.

“I will be,” murmured Harry in reply as he nuzzled Hermione’s neck and gently stroked her hair. “How about you?”

Harry trailed little kisses from her neck to her lips, feeling comforted by her warm presence and minty aroma. His arm around Hermione’s waist, Harry could feel her beginning to relax.

“Mmmm... That’s nice!” Hermione sighed after a moment, feeling much better herself as she sensed Harry unwinding. 

Dora had seen some horrible things during her stint as an Auror, but nothing like what she had seen that day. She’d had trouble falling asleep herself, but had just dozed off, cuddled up with Fleur, when Daphne’s screams had brought her back instantly, gasping in momentary panic. 

As she settled into Fleur’s comforting embrace, a flicker of rage burned deep inside Dora, knowing that her Aunt Bellatrix was behind the new strain of Inferi, but she struggled against the fury, unwilling to be consumed by it.

For her part, Jennifer felt a sense of tranquility supplant her own feelings of dread as she snuggled next to Daphne. Surprised at herself and conflicted, Jennifer felt a surge of joy after their day of horror. Perhaps it was having so recently been able to put the death of her parents behind her. Jennifer wasn’t really certain; all she really knew was that as long she was alive and that she had someone to love, she could be happy.

Luna couldn’t help but be reminded by the Inferi of witnessing her mother’s death in a horrible spell accident. She had always done her best to take a philosophical view of things, not always as successfully as she would have liked. But ever since she had discovered friendship and love with Ginny and those with her, Luna felt that she had come to terms with Death. Luna had people that she loved, and that was all that mattered.

Luna sensed that seeing the Inferi up close had brought back everything that Parvati hated about Mummies, a stark reminder that one day Death would come for them all. But it was obvious to Luna that Parvati was trying very hard not to show it.

“It’s alright to be sad Parvati,” whispered Luna as she took Parvati’s hand and squeezed it comfortingly. “But we’re never really gone, even after we die.”

“Do you really believe that?” Parvati asked quietly.

“Sometimes I see Mum... in my dreams,” Luna replied with a serene smile. “I know that dreams aren’t always real - but sometimes they are too. Sometimes I know that she’s talking to me from the other side...”

Parvati smiled tearfully. 

“I’d like to believe that,” she said. “Mum and Dad have some books from India at home that say the same sorts of things - they talk about the cycles of life and death. Some of them say that life is an illusion - that the world beyond is more real...

“I suppose that’s why I was interested in Divination before. I’m not so sure anymore... And to tell the truth, I’ve been feeling a bit unsure about it for a while, what with Trelawny going on and on about Harry’s death all the time. _**This**_ feels real to me... holding your hand, being able to touch you! I never want to lose that.”

Luna blushed slightly as her smile broadened, thinking about the arrangement she’d made with Ginny and Parvati earlier that evening on their hushed mirror-call as she considered Parvati’s words.

“I think it’s _**all**_ real,” said Luna finally. “Just on different levels. I mean... even if it’s just in your head, your head is real - right? It doesn’t mean everything is the same sort of real at this very moment in this particular time and space... from this side of things, the other side might look like an illusion... and when we’re on the other side, maybe this side does.

“And if something’s conceivable, then it has to exist somewhere... somehow... even if it’s in another dimension or universe with a different set of rules,” Luna continued, “I think that after death... maybe... we just cross over to another dimension... maybe even live different lives - multiple lives in multiple realities - and somehow communicate still with those we’ve temporarily left behind.

“But one thing I feel very strongly, is that when you really Love someone, they’ll be connected to you no matter where they are - that Life will always find a way - that Death is as temporary as Life appears to be.

“I think there _**are**_ cycles of life and death - _**and**_ that our souls will go on and meet each other again someday. But for now, we should live in the moment... and make the most of the lives we’re leading right now.

“It doesn’t really do to dwell _too_ much on the past or the far-flung future - just enough so that we see where we’re coming from and where we’re going to - because you’re right Parvati - what we’re experiencing right now is the most important bit really!”

“You’re so smart Luna,” Parvati grinned, suddenly feeling much better.

“Well, I _am_ in Ravenclaw...” giggled Luna.

Hermione smiled and sighed happily as she listened to Luna and Parvati’s quiet conversation. Parvati was right; Luna was as brilliant as she was sweet and bluntly honest. Hermione felt at peace, a luminous glow within keeping the darkness she had witnessed at bay. At one time, like Luna and Harry, she had been all alone and friendless, but she and Harry had found each other, and taught each other what it really meant to be in love.

And now - after gradually finding others to share their lives with - Hermione and Harry had more friendship and love in their lives than either of them could have ever imagined before coming to Hogwarts and meeting one another.

No longer alone, Hermione knew that she and Harry had the friends and family they had both always dreamed of, and that she would do anything for every last one of them. Death would never keep them apart; each of them a beacon of light in the dark, they would always find one another.

She could hear the snow blowing around the tent, the sound mingling with the soft snores and quiet breathing of the Coven as slumber eventually took them all once more.


	63. Let Sleeping Dragons Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning for this chapter:** _Horror, Violence, Trigger, Language._

Breakfast was a somber affair, despite being provided for by Dobby. After the horrors of the previous day, and the interrupted sleep during the night, Dora and Hermione both insisted on taking a day to recuperate and regroup before continuing their mission. 

Despite himself, Harry relented. It was obvious how badly everyone had been shaken by their experience, and if he was being honest with himself, Harry had to admit that he was relieved to be talked into it. Indeed, Harry ended up enjoying the time off much more than he thought he would, as the others decided to take a little walk along the stream and explore the woods a bit, giving Harry and Hermione some alone time together in the tent.

Feeling much better and more relaxed after their exchange of passions, Harry drifted off into a sound sleep. Hermione sat beside him stroking his messy black hair, smiling to see him looking so much more peaceful than when he had woken earlier that morning. It was obvious that Harry had been too worried about everyone else to sleep properly during the night.

For her part, Hermione felt more invigorated. After a few minutes she rose from the mattress and dressed warmly. Her breath clouded in the biting winter air when she stepped out of the tent for a stretch and a change of scenery. 

The sound of giggling from behind the tent caught Hermione’s ear. Curious, she trudged around the side of the tent and pushed aside the branches of the bushes at the back to see what was going on. Her eyes widened with surprise when she spotted Parvati and Luna sitting on a blanket on some underbrush untouched by snow with their lips pressed together.

Startled, Luna and Parvati fell apart, both of them blushing furiously and looking rather sheepish.

“It was all her idea,” said Parvati, giggling and pointing at Luna.

“Luna... What? ... But... Ginny...” Hermione gasped, never having taken Luna for someone who would cheat on her girlfriend.

“Is that Hermione?” a small voice asked, emanating from somewhere in the underbrush. Hermione’s eyes spotted something shiny glinting on the ground near Luna and Parvati’s feet.

“I think Hermione thinks I’m cheating on you, Ginny,” said Luna with a mischievous grin as she picked up the mirror.

“But... What’s going on? I don’t understand...” Hermione was now more perplexed than ever.

“Let me talk to her,” said Ginny’s voice. 

Luna passed Hermione the mirror, trying hard not to giggle at Hermione’s shocked expression. Bewildered, Hermione peered at the freckled face which didn’t look put out in the least; if anything, Ginny looked like she had been enjoying herself immensely.

“It’s alright Hermione,” said Ginny, grinning. “Luna and Parvati are just practicing...”

“Practicing?”

“Yeah... Parvati’s never snogged a girl before,” Ginny chortled, “so Luna and I reckoned that she should get in some practice...” 

“But why on earth would Parvati need to practice...?” Hermione began, before halting abruptly as light dawned on her. “OH!” she gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth as her eyes grew bigger. “Luna told you...”

“...about the whole Coven business,” Ginny interjected, smirking. “Apparently Parvati is the only one without a partner. Luna thought a threesome might do the trick though... Will it?”

“Oh... er... I think so. But... er... what about... er...?” 

“Shagging?” suggested Ginny, waggling her eyebrows. “Luna was going to set up the mirror so I could watch them practice that next.”

Hermione glanced at Parvati in surprise. Parvati’s blush deepened and she bit her lip.

“What?” she said, giggling nervously. “It’s not like I have a boyfriend at the moment... or ever really. Terry Boot was just my date to the ball...”

“I know,” said Hermione. “But are you sure...? I mean... for your first time... with a girl?”

Luna and Ginny couldn’t help laughing uproariously. It was so unlike Hermione to speak in less than full sentences.

“Well, I _**wasn’t**_ sure,” Parvati replied honestly. “But that’s why we’re practicing - to see if I’ll like it. And so far it seems a bit of alright. And I figure diddling each other can’t be that much different from diddling myself...”

“It’s much better,” Luna asserted. 

“That’s quite true,” Hermione agreed, a little smile creeping to her lips. “Would... er... would you two... er, three I mean... like the tent?”

“That’s alright,” said Luna. “Harry needs to sleep. I’ve cast a warming charm over this little area and we’re quite well hidden.”

“Alright,” said Hermione. “I’ll leave you three to it then. I’ll keep this to myself for now until you’re all sure about this.” 

Hermione let the branches of the bushes fall back into place, hiding Luna and Parvati and mirror-bound Ginny once more. She shook her head in amusement as she made her way back to the tent, thinking that Harry would be both pleased and embarrassed as all get out if everything went as planned. Hermione lay back down next to her sleeping Harry and cuddled him, keeping a curious ear out for any obvious sounds of pleasure.

**~o0o~**

Despite the continued lack of success over the next few days of searching, Harriet was just happy that the Coven had come across no more Inferi, and that the most recent snowstorm had stopped. Though without the cloud-cover, it was even colder and the bitter wind didn’t help. Everyone was more grateful than ever for the warmth of Hermione’s blue flames after the tent had been set up when dusk fell.

“Well, that’s another half a dozen squares done today,” Harriet sighed. “I suppose that’s something.”

“Yeah, we’re definitely narrowing things down, Harriet,” said Dora. “We should be stumbling across it any day now...”

“Sssh! ... There’s someone out there,” said Hermione. “I can hear voices...”

Harriet and Dora quieted immediately; Daphne quickly turned off the radio as Fleur and Jennifer turned to look at Hermione. Luna and Parvati strained their own ears to listen.

“I hear them too,” whispered Parvati; Luna nodded.

“They sound like they’re right outside,” hissed Harriet.

“We should be alright,” Hermione murmured. “Dora and I double-checked the wards.”

“We’ll wait for them to go by, but then we should check ‘em out,” said Dora quietly. “They’ll have to be setting up camp any minute as it’s already getting dark.

Harriet and Hermione quickly agreed. The voices and footsteps gradually faded, and after a few more minutes had passed Dora cast the transfiguration disguise spells on Hermione - just in case.

“Right then,” said Harriet as the Coven exited the tent into the darkening woods, “Hermione and I will move in closer once we get past our wards - see who we’re dealing with. The rest of you follow but fan out a bit and stay out of sight. If Hermione and I run into trouble, then move in!”

Hermione and Harriet followed what appeared to be two sets of footprints in the snow as they crept stealthily through the trees and the bushes. As they drew nearer to what looked like a clearing ahead, Harriet and Hermione could hear the sounds of voices and the crackling of flames.

“Er... So, nice to meet you... er...” said a nervous voice which sounded very young and very familiar. The voices which responded sounded like they belonged to much older men.

“Dirk Cresswell... you can call me Dirk...”

“And I’m Jason. Mind if we share your fire mate?”

“I suppose...” answered the anxious voice.

“It’s alright mate...” the voice which belonged to Dirk said soothingly. “Me and Jason - we’re on the run too - been out here for days...”

“How’d’you know I was on the run?” the youthful voice asked suspiciously.

“A youngster like you - out ‘ere all alone in the middle o’ winter...?” responded the voice belonging to Jason. “It’s alright though... we’re like you...”

“Really?” muttered the suspicious young voice, “How’s that then?”

“Muggleborn... both of us. Reckon you are too...” replied Dirk. “You are a wizard... right?”

“Er... maybe... I suppose,” the youthful voice replied. “But how do I know you’re not...”

“Snatchers?” Jason laughed mirthlessly. “If we were, you’d be in Ministry hands already and we’d be collectin’ the loot. So why’re you out here all alone then?”

“Didn’t want the Ministry getting their hands on my mum. I dunno if they’d really do anything to her, but I didn’t want to take the chance of going back home after I left Hogwarts,” said the young voice, sounding relieved. “I dunno if I’m muggleborn or halfblood really. My dad left us when I was young. He could’ve been a wizard I suppose. The name’s Dean by the way...”

Harriet and Hermione peered at each other, eyes widening when they realised it was Dean Thomas. Uncertain whether or not to reveal themselves, Harriet decided to remain hidden for the moment and listen a bit longer.

“Blimey... so you’re one of the lot that escaped from Hogwarts then!” said Dirk.

“Smart of you not to hook up with that Potter thug and Dumbledore’s rebellion...” Jason asserted.

“You got that right!” agreed Dirk. “Bloody murdering bastards - if it weren’t for those two, us muggleborn wouldn’t have to register with the Ministry...”

“Bollox!” growled Dean. “There was never any rebellion or murders. The Malfoys were scum... they brought it on themselves. It’s all a bloody lie...”

“That’s not what the _Daily Prophet_ or the Wiz-Vision says...” Dirk’s voice grew as frosty and brittle as the icicles hanging from the branches and limbs of the trees in the forest around them.

“You should read the _Quibbler_ then!” said Dean sharply.

“What?” snorted Jason. “That Conspiracy Theory rag which used to go on about Snorkacks and Nargles? I’ve seen stuff on the telly about Aliens and the Illuminati which is more believable than that tripe...”

“The Minister... she and her supporters are Pureblood fanatics - just like Voldemort was,” Dean responded coldly. “If you two believe the rubbish in the _Prophet_ , then why are you both on the run?”

“Already said, mate...!” snapped Dirk. “We know there’s trouble, but we reckon Dumbledore and Potter are to blame for causin’ it...”

“I’m not your mate!” Dean’s voice hardened. “And I don’t think I want to share my fire with you two anymore... and there’s definitely not enough room for you in my tent.”

“Well, that’s too bad for you kid. We like it here...” said Jason dangerously. “There’s two of us and only one of you, and you can’t be more than fourteen or fifteen. The way I figure it, that makes the fire ours then...”

Harriet and Hermione crept closer as their alarm on Dean’s behalf skyrocketed, both of them with their hearts pounding, wands at the ready as they crouched low.

“Piss off!” snarled Dean. There was a rustling sound, and Harriet knew that everyone around the campfire had their own wands out now.

“Don’t be stupid boy!” muttered Jason.

“You sure you want to do this kid?” warned Dirk.

Dean swallowed in trepidation, breath quickening as he peered at the two much older and much larger muggleborn wizards, kicking himself for allowing his anger at their prattling to get the better of him. He might have been able to take on one of the wizards, but Dean wasn’t sure that he was fast enough to take on the both of them.

Dean’s eyes widened in shock when red arcs of magic jetted from the darkness beyond the foliage, and the two threatening wizards collapsed in a heap on the forest floor, both unconscious.

“What the...?” gasped Dean. “Th...thanks for that, but wh...who are you?” he stammered breathlessly when two very attractive teenage witches entered the clearing, their wands still trained on the fallen wizards.

Despite his anxiety, Dean couldn’t help noticing that one of the girls had gorgeous auburn hair. He felt a pang, hoping that Susan was doing alright at Hogwarts.

“Don’t you recognise me then Dean?” chortled the pretty girl with green eyes and windswept black hair spilling around her shoulders.

Dean’s eyes nearly fell out of his head as the hair shortened into a shaggy moptop and the face became more angular. Dean felt his own face blazing with embarrassment when he realised who he had been ogling.

“H...Harry?” Dean groaned questioningly. “Is that really you?”

“Call me Harriet for now!” Harry winked, turned his features back into a girl’s and grinned, nodding.

“We should talk back at the tent behind the protection and concealment charms. Dean probably still has the Trace on him,” said the auburn haired girl quietly to Harriet. “But these two can stay here, seeing as they like your fire so much!” she concluded, glaring icily at the fallen wizards.

“Hermione?” said Dean, recognising her voice.

“Yeah, it’s Hermione, and she’s right...” murmured Harriet. “Let’s go back to our tent before these two arseholes come to, or Ministry officials show up.”

Harriet changed back into Harry when they returned to the tent to make Dean more comfortable, and Hermione reverted to her normal bushy-haired self. Dean tried his best not to appear hot and bothered when the rest of the young witches all cheerfully gave him warm hugs after he set his broom and rucksack down. Keeping Susan at the forefront of his mind helped a bit, but Dean sobered rapidly when the discussion turned to what had brought everyone out to the wilderness to begin with.

“I’m glad you’re safe Dean,” said Parvati

“Thanks for sticking up for the _Quibbler_ Dean,” beamed Luna.

“Of course I would! I can’t believe any muggleborn would pay any mind to anything else! Of all the rotten luck...” Dean griped. “In the middle of nowhere I had to run into two of the thickest berks...”

“You should stick with us for tonight at least,” said Dora. “It’ll be safer for you behind the concealment and protection charms we’ve got set up! Whoever’s monitoring the Trace back at the Ministry, if they send anyone to check it out tonight, they’ll only find those two idiots when they show up.”

“So, you lot are hiding out here from the Ministry then?” asked Dean. “And what’s up with these muggleborn relocation camps I’ve heard about...? D’you know anything about them?”

“From the information we gathered during the raid on the Ministry, it’s clear they’re more like concentration camps,” Hermione muttered grimly. “As awful as those two out there were, I hated leaving them behind... But it's obvious that we can't trust them.”

“Wait... you lot broke into the Ministry?” Dean gasped. Then Hermione’s implication hit him like a punch in the stomach. “You mean...?” Dean trailed off and gulped, glancing at all of the somber faces of the Unaffiliated.

“If we’re right - these places - they’re more than just relocation camps... more than prisons!” said Harry darkly, his jaw tightening. “They’re much worse...”

Harry blinked, a muscle on his temple twitching. Dean’s blood ran with ice; he shivered - he’d had a very good idea how bad things were with the current administration in the Ministry, but he had struggled to keep his head and not fall into paranoia.

“So Dean... how are you with fighting spells?” asked Harry after a moment passed.

“I... I trained with Fred and George and the Quidditch team a bit before... before we all had to leave Hogwarts,” said Dean hoarsely. “I can do a decent stunner and a basic shield spell - that’s how I got away from some Snatchers last week. I... I stunned one - managed to escape on my broom before anyone else found me. Wh...why?”

“Good... That’s good enough for now,” said Harry, nodding. “We’re not on the run Dean... There may not have been a rebellion against the Ministry before, but there damn well is now! We’re going to find the internment centre they’ve got here in Wales - we’re going to document what they’re doing there, rescue any prisoners we can... and raze the place to the ground!”

“...I just wanted to know that you can handle yourself when things get hot. I’d let you stay and search and fight with us, but the problem is that you’re underage - you still have a Trace on you. The rest of us are all either emancipated or of age... I’ll call my godfather and Lupin in the morning to take you someplace warded and safe before we all leave tomorrow... alright?”

Dean could see the fiery determination in Harry’s eyes - somehow Harry looked far older than his years. Dean found himself wishing that he could help Harry fight the Ministry. Taking a deep breath, Dean smiled and nodded.

“Yeah... sounds good! Thanks Harry!”

“Excellent!” said Harry, relaxing and grinning. “You hungry? We were just about to get some supper when we heard you and those other blokes nearby...”

“Famished!” Dean grinned. “I haven’t eaten properly in days... I stole some food from a muggle shop in a village last week and felt guilty as hell about it... Most of it’s gone now.”

Dean ravenously wolfed down the plentiful meal which Dobby had brought everyone as Harry and the rest of the Coven began to fill him in on what they had been up to since Hogwarts. Dean was thrilled and astonished by the story of the raid on the Ministry to rescue Arthur Weasley. Though Dean supposed he really shouldn’t be too surprised, given the rumours which had been flying around Hogwarts about Harry and his closest friends defeating most of Voldemort’s Monster Army over the summer holidays.

No wonder Dean hadn’t seen much of Harry and Hermione except during meals at the beginning of the school-term - they’d been too busy studying and training, preparing for the moment they knew was coming - really learning how to fight and make the best use of their skills. It was almost scary how grown-up Harry, Hermione and their friends seemed, even Luna who was younger than Dean.

Dean was horrified to hear about the village of the Dead, extremely glad that he hadn’t run into any Inferi himself. Dean’s own story of being on the run after sending his mother a message to go and stay with his aunt seemed to himself like a walk-in-the-park in comparison. His day-to-day attempts to stay out of sight while avoiding the use of magic except to ride his broom under cover of night, his gnawing hunger, and his run-in with the Snatchers, all barely worth a mention.

“Are you joking? Survivin’ this long while barely using any magic...?” gasped Dora.

“And escaping even when you did? That’s bloody brilliant Dean!” exclaimed Harry.

“The Trace... eet is a shame that it is still upon you,” said Fleur. “We would do very well to have you fighting alongside us.”

As Dean settled in his sleeping bag, his trusty broom beside him, he felt full, safe, and warm for the first time in weeks. He glanced over at Harry and the witches snuggling inside their own sleeping bags and under their covers, smirking to himself. He couldn’t help imagining what else they they might be getting up to in the tent together.

But Dean’s fantasies vanished as he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of his titian-haired Susan back in his arms again when Dumbledore and Harry eventually retook Hogwarts.

**~o0o~**

“So this is where you found Dean then?” said Lupin as he and Sirius examined the clearing and the remains of the campfire, the early morning sun peeking through the trees and a bitter chill in the air.

Harry and Hermione both nodded uncomfortably, peering at the many extra sets of footprints in the snow which indicated that others had been there after they’d left the two muggleborn wizards lying unconscious the night before. Broken branches on bushes surrounding the site also indicated that whomever had been there had searched the area, and they were both glad that the concealing charms had worked so well on their own campsite.

“You did the right thing, you know!” said Sirius reassuringly, seeing the guilty expressions on Harry’s and Hermione’s faces. “Clearly you couldn’t trust a pair of dolts who believe the swill that the _Prophet_ and the Wiz-Vision are peddling. They would’ve likely turned the lot of you in to protect their own hides...”

“In any case, I think those two were long gone before anyone from the Ministry arrived looking for Dean,” Lupin proffered. “There’s no sign of struggle - indicating that they departed quickly when they revived... No doubt when they came to, the fools at least had the sense to realise that the Ministry would be keen on apprehending any students who had escaped Hogwarts when the use of magic in their vicinity was detected.”

“Good... that’s good then!” said Harry, letting out a sigh of relief. “As thick and pushy as they were, I’d hate to think that the Ministry had them.”

Having finished their perusal of the site, Lupin and Sirius followed Harry and Hermione back to their own camp, where they were greeted warmly by the rest of the Coven and Dean Thomas.

“Hi Professor,” said Dean, very happy to finally see a familiar adult who didn't inspire paranoia in him.

“Hello Dean,” smiled Lupin. “I can't say that I've been doing much professoring these days though...”

“Wotcher Sirius... Remus,” greeted Dora with a grin. “So ‘ow’s it going with you lot?”

“Could be better, but we think we’re closing in on the facility we believe is somewhere in Northern England,” replied Sirius. “But the ones we think are in Scotland and Northern Ireland are less certain... We’re still stretched quite thin, as we’re also trying to protect Muggleborn from the Ministry as we come across them - Monsieur Delacour’s people have been instrumental in helping those with families who wish to leave Britain escape the country, and others are staying in hiding or offering to join the fight...”

Fleur beamed proudly to hear that her father's contributions were having beneficial effects.

“Unfortunately those two that young Dean here ran into last night are not the only ones who find it difficult to believe that the Ministry’s ‘Registration Programme’ is more than a means to protect purebloods from ‘Dumbledore’s Insurrection’...” added Lupin with a heavy sigh. “A few are even turning themselves in. And we’re also doing our best to protect muggle and wizard civilians from Inferi attacks. Harry informed us of your own run-in a few days ago.”

The members of the Coven murmured and nodded sadly in response.

“Would you like to stay for breakfast,” asked Luna.

“Afraid not... We’d best be off with Dean and get him to an Order Safehouse as soon as possible,” said Sirius with a shake of his head. “As animagi with our particular set of traits, we’re both very much in demand right now...”

“But don’t hesitate to call us again the moment you need us,” concluded Lupin.

**~o0o~**

Senior Undersecretary Percy Weasley scowled at the reports crossing his desk as he sipped his second cup of tea. He glanced up when he heard the door to his office open and spied Minister Dolores Umbridge approaching.

“Why so glum Percy?” asked the Minister in her sweetest voice. “Things have been moving forward relatively smoothly since the debacle in the Department of Mysteries. It is to be expected that it will take quite some time to uncover all of the Muggleborn and to remove them from our society... but things are moving apace.”

“There was another hit on the Trace last night for one of the muggleborn who escaped Hogwarts - stunning spells apparently - but by the time Aurors arrived, he was already gone. And besides that, there’s been another round of resignations in the Auror Office,” the Senior Undersecretary muttered crossly. “We lost three more this morning who refused to arrest Muggleborns who resist registration and relocation.”

“Never mind dear,” Dolores smiled comfortingly. “The Snatcher adjuncts to the Unspeakable Office are by and large more than making up for personnel losses in the Auror Office... And it is better that we know who stands with the Ministry and who stands against us. It simply won’t do to have more potential spies for Dumbledore in our midst after all.”

“Oh!” Percy raised his eyebrows and his features brightened. He hadn’t considered that angle. “Right then... I suppose I should go through my files of the resigned and relist them as possible threats to the Ministry then.”

“Splendid Percy!” beamed the Minister. “That will do very nicely indeed.”

**~o0o~**

The mist drew across the snowbound wooded valley as evening approached on the day following the departure of Dean with Sirius and Lupin. Harriet was getting set to call it a day, but Parvati yanked the earphones from her head when the FM radio of Jennifer’s Walkman began to squawk.

“Ow! That hurt...” muttered Parvati, rubbing her ear. “It’s not supposed to do that is it?”

“Not like that... no,” Jennifer replied; she could hear the ear-piercing squeal without even having to put the headphones on herself. “Let me see then.”

Jennifer frowned when she glanced at her mobile phone. The display on the little LCD screen was flickering, but she couldn’t really be sure if that meant anything. 

“I... I think we might be getting close,” said Hermione, her voice betraying her increased anxiety as she looked at the compass in her hand. Everyone turned to Hermione. Harriet swallowed apprehensively as she drew closer to have a look herself. The compass needle was spinning wildly.

“D’you reckon...?” Harriet began.

“Given the interference on the radio and the compass, it could very likely be caused by a magical source.” Hermione answered quietly. 

“Right then... we’ll keep heading this direction when we’re ready,” murmured Harriet, nodding at Dora.

As Dora altered Hermione’s appearance, Harriet cast the alarm detecting and disarming charm ahead of the Coven before leading the Coven forward. When Harriet felt the pulsating vibration of the return signal in her wand, she was certain.

Having already decided that she didn’t want to spoil her incognito identity as Harriet, she altered her own features further, giving herself blue eyes and short, straw coloured hair. As they had planned in advance, Dora altered everyone else’s features as well. Harriet had considered making some of them invisible for the operation, but decided against it, not wanting anyone to be lost and left behind inadvertently.

“Stay quiet and low, and look out for guards,” Harriet hissed at the others. “The alarm deactivating spell interacted with something, so there’s definitely some sort of magically protected facility ahead.”

Dora, Fleur, and Hermione crept ahead of the others silently, all of their senses on heightened alert. Harriet felt her heart thudding in her ears as they slipped deeper into the woods, shuffling through the snow.

After about fifteen minutes creeping through the forest, in the misty twilight Harriet could only just make out a clearing ahead with a low shadowed building with no windows set dead in the centre. When Hermione, Fleur and Dora halted and signaled, Harriet gestured at Jennifer, Daphne, Luna, and Parvati to take flanking positions in pairs. According to Hermione’s hand signal, they had detected four guards around what looked more and more like a concrete bunker as they drew nearer.

This was it, thought Hermione as she, Harriet, Fleur, and Dora inched forward wands at the ready. Her heart was pounding so hard, that even though she knew it was silly, Hermione was afraid that the sentinels would hear it. 

Dora swallowed nervously - stealth had never been her strong suit. Fleur did her utmost to control her heartrate and breathing; one slipup could give them all away and they would lose the element of surprise.

Harriet nodded at Hermione, Dora, and Fleur, directing each of them to stay low and chose a guard wizard, while Luna and Parvati, and Daphne and Jennifer covered them; all using the increasingly dense shroud of mist as camouflage. Everyone stilled, their hearts in their throats when an owl hooted. 

One of guards - all of whom appeared somewhat bored and listless - suddenly sprang to attention.

“What’s that?” he said, sounding more alarmed than a Ministry sentry should have. Dora surmised that he was probably a Snatcher, more used to burglaries, drugs dealing, and street-fighting than guarding a secret installation in a spooky forest at night.

“Relax! It’s just an owl,” chortled one of the other guards. “What sort of wizard are you that doesn’t know an owl when he hears one?”

“Shut it!” snapped the Snatcher. “Not alla us could afford owls when we went to ‘Ogwarts.” 

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist mate,” said another sentry. “‘E’s just takin’ the Mickey outta ya. Anyway, don’ worry so much - this is an easy peasy gig. Nobody can even see the installation unless they get inside the wards, and they’ll set off the alarm if they make it past the perimeter...”

Despite her apprehension, Harriet couldn’t help chuckling inwardly. The Snatcher shook his head and snorted.

“Wot, you lot never ‘eard of alarm disarmin’ spells? Guess some o’ us ‘Urchins’ ain’t as dumb as you Ministry lot think we are,” he retorted disdainfully.

“He’s right you two,” said the one guard who had remained silent during the exchange. “Don’t be so bloody cocky! Keep your ears peeled... I don’t care if you do hear an owl. For all you know it could be a signal.”

Harriet sighed. That guard was obviously the one in charge. This could be trickier than Harriet had hoped for, though she had known as well as any that they would up against highly trained wizards - for the most part. The Snatcher and the Shift Supervisor seemed to be on their toes in any case, even if the other two were apparently used to feeling a sense of complacency, assured of their own superiority.

The two who had been so dismissive of the Snatcher fidgeted uncomfortably at their rebuke, and quiet reigned once more in the snowy forest glade. The Coven grew colder as they all waited in the growing fog for what seemed like hours. Finally, the sentries seemed to relax and let their guard down again. Harriet silently signaled to Dora, Hermione, and Fleur; crouching low, using the misty darkness as cover, they crept forward. 

The Unspeakables and the Snatcher guarding the exterior of the nondescript, windowless building never knew what hit them. Shadows reached out from the dark swirls of fog and before any of them could react, each sentry collapsed as a stunner from a wand pressed to the back of the head brought them down with little more than a brief, very muted crackling sound. 

Luna, Parvati, Daphne and Jennifer stepped out of the shadows when Harriet beckoned the rest of the Coven forth.

“Excellent!” murmured Harriet. “That was brilliant guys!”

“Yeah it was,” said Jennifer as she looked down at the unconscious sentries. “They didn’t even see you guys coming.” Luna, Parvati, and Daphne nodded in agreement.

“Blimey! That was close though,” Dora said quietly, “I was almost sure they were gonna catch us out for a minute there... Anyway, this is convenient - Harriet and I can lead the rest o’ you in lookin’ like these blokes. If anyone’s inside the entrance, we can take ‘em out before they realise anything’s wrong.”

Daphne peered at the small windowless concrete building, which barely looked larger than a bungalow.

“Shouldn’t it be much bigger?” she asked, bewildered. “I thought it was supposed to be a prison camp of some sort.”

“I expect it’s larger on the inside,” Hermione responded.

“It looks a bit like a bunker... I suppose it could be an underground facility,” sighed Harriet, hoping that Hermione was right; the last place she wanted to be was trapped underground.

The Coven dragged the four unconscious guards into the bushes and took their wands. Despite a thorough search, no key was found on any of the wizards. Dora cast a bewitched sleep spell on the wizards to keep them out for the duration of the raid, and a warming charm so they wouldn’t freeze to death. Removing the robes of two of the Unspeakables and pulling them on over their own clothes, Dora and Harriet also took their forms, morphing into the wizards.

“Got your video camera ready Jennifer?” asked Harry-who-now-looked-like-an-Unspeakable in a deeper version of his own voice, sounding much calmer than he felt. He had no idea how the older male wizard was supposed to sound, and just hoped that looking like the man would be enough to get them past any checkpoints.

“Yeah...” said Jennifer, swallowing in trepidation as she showed Harry the small handheld video camera which was operating entirely on magic, “I already got some exterior footage... and of the guards in their Unspeakable robes.”

“Good,” Harry nodded. “Just keep it on from here on out... Alright everyone, try to stick together - focus on finding prisoners and gathering the wands of anyone else we take down, and take anything else that looks like it’ll be useful for evidence - artifacts, documents - just chuck the lot in your bags.”

“I just wanna say somethin’ too, before we go in...” said Dora in her own voice to emphasize that it was really her speaking; it seemed odd to hear her voice coming from a wizard’s mouth. “...I know none of us wants to kill anyone if we don’t ‘ave to - and we won’t if we can help it. But don’t ‘old back once any fighting starts and their Killing Curses start flying. I don’t doubt that ‘oever’s in there wouldn’t bat an eye at murdering or torturin’ every last one of us. So use whatever spells you think are appropriate when the time comes - nobody’ll think any less of you.”

“Dora’s right...” Hermione added firmly, seeing everyone’s anxious faces. “We have a good idea what they’re capable of, considering how many Death Eaters are in their ranks...”

“Yeah... we do!” Harry sighed, “You’re both right! We have to treat this like we’re battling Voldemort and his army all over again...”

“Or the Malfoys...” muttered Daphne, her voice icy and brittle; Fleur nodded in agreement.

Seeing the steely determination in everyone’s eyes, Harry knew they were all ready. The Coven approached the low building in the mist shrouded forest glade once again, unlit wands pointing at the locked entrance.

“Right then!” said Harry, “The lock probably unlocks only with a coded spell, and likely has an anti-alohomora charm on it, but I bet they didn't account for the power of a Coven spell. Everyone all together... alohomora on my mark...”

**~o0o~**

The Unspeakable sitting at the intake desk twiddled his thumbs in boredom; nobody had been brought in on his shift for several days. He looked up in surprise when he heard the heavy iron door groaning open. He had received no memos of any imminent arrivals, and the magically locked door wasn't supposed to be otherwise unlocked until the shift was over.

“What’re you doin’ in here?” growled the intake wizard when he saw two of the sentries entering. “Your shifts aren’t up for another hour.”

“Yours is though...” muttered one of the sentries, pointing his wand at the intake wizard. “Imperius.” 

As he pored over an installation map on the wall, Harry counted his blessings that Hermione had been correct about the internment compound being larger inside than out, rather than an underground facility, and also that Dora was willing and able to perform the Imperius Curse on the intake wizard. Unfortunately, it appeared that their window until potential discovery was limited.

“Alright, we’ve only got an hour at best until the guards change their shift,” Harry muttered as the Coven tentatively entered the long dark corridor past the entrance room. “We’ll have to move quickly...”

“At least all ze offices are in this corridor,” hissed Fleur, “and the administration personnel are all gone for ze day.”

“But there’s still a dozen more guards in the detention blocks,” Dora added quietly. “Not to mention that according to the sentry, my dear Aunt Bellatrix likes to work late on occasion and has a personal office floo. So stay alert...”

“Okay, I hate having to do this,” Harry said through gritted teeth, “but we’ll need to make short work of the offices. Dora... you and Jennifer, and Fleur, and Daphne take the offices on the left - Hermione and I, and Luna, and Parvati - we’ll take the ones on the right. Just empty the desks of all files as quickly as possible, grab any identifying items, and we’ll meet up at the end of the hallway in ten minutes and move on...”

**~o0o~**

Antonin Dolohov rolled his eyes when he heard Thorfinn Rowle’s stomach rumbling.

“Hungry again already?”

 _“What?”_ grunted Rowle, “I’m starved, and we’re the lucky one’s pullin’ a double today...”

“True that,” Dolohov shrugged, grinning. “I suppose I’ve worked up a bit of an appetite myself on that muggle bint in Cell-block C...”

“Heh... talk about a big appetite,” Rowle muttered with an evil looking smirk. “Can’t even keep it in your trousers for barely ten minutes at a time.”

“Gotta get the good ones while they’re still fresh... and before Bellatrix gets her hands on ‘em...” Dolohov retorted. “They’re no good after they’re dead...”

“Hunh... tell that to Bowdler! ... ‘E’d do an Inferi if it wouldn’t bite ‘is willy orf!” Rowle chortled, “ ‘E’s probably in the Chamber right now ‘avin’ ‘is way with the corpses... Anyway, I’m headed to the kitchens - want anything?”

“Yeah, why not!? Bring me back a sandwich.”

“Righto...” Rowle nodded. “And mebbe after we’re done eating, I’ll join you in Cell Block C... she’s a real pretty little bird, that one is.”

Still shaking his head, chuckling about Bowdler’s proclivities, Rowle made his way through the corridors to the kitchens by the staffroom at the end of the main corridor. He rifled through a cupboard looking for the bread before rummaging in the coldbox for some corned beef and cheddar cheese. Laying out four slices of rye-bread, he busied himself making sandwiches for himself and Dolohov.

“Wish we ‘ad us some bleedin’ ‘ouse-elves ‘ere,” Rowle groused to nobody as he spread a thick layer of Colman’s mustard on two slices of bread, and slathered the other two pieces with some chutney.

Sandwiches finally completed and wrapped in wax-paper, Rowle grabbed two bags of crisps and threw them on the plate as well. He kicked open the kitchen door and stepped into the corridor, his eyes widening in surprise.

“‘Oo the bloody ‘ell are you?” Rowle barked at the two startled witches, his wand instantly in his hand.

Fleur and Daphne spun around to face the wizard who had appeared in the dimly lit corridor just after they had finished ransacking the office near the end of the hallway. When the wizard saw their two wands pointing at him, he threw himself back through the door he had exited a moment before, his plate of sandwiches clattering to the ground.

“Avada Kedavra,” shouted the wizard as he dove back through the doorway.

Fleur rolled out of the line of fire; the green bolt of lightning sparked against the wall on the other side of the corridor, only missing her by centimetres. Her heart thudded against the wall of her chest, realising how close she had come to dying. Instinctively Fleur raised her other hand to shoot a Veela fireball, then remembered that they didn’t want to rouse too much attention yet. She motioned to Daphne who nodded in understanding.

Daphne stood on one side of the doorframe, and Fleur on the other, both of their chests heaving rapidly as they peeked to see where the wizard was inside. Another arc of green lightning shot through the opening and they both fell back.

Fleur signaled Daphne again and flung herself flat to the floor in the doorway, silently firing a Reductor Curse at the table the wizard had tipped over to hide behind. The wizard’s third killing spell missed again, as he had been aiming where he thought the witch would be standing.

Daphne was in the doorway the moment the green arc of magic had dissipated, furiously whipping her wand three times through the cloud of disintegrating particulates which had been the upturned table. The wizard’s eyes bulged with shock when his wand arm fell away in a spray of blood, severed at his elbow.

Rowle gasped in short, ragged breaths, his body wracked with pain from the two long gashes across his chest. He couldn’t believe this was happening - this was supposed to be a secure location. What had happened to the alarms? But as bad as his situation appeared, he felt a glimmer of hope when he saw the indecision in the young witch’s eyes. She wasn’t prepared to issue a killing blow.

“DOLO...” he began to yell. Rowle never finished, his last sound a gurgling rattle of breath through the gaping hole the witch opened in his neck with another slash of her wand.

Daphne was still standing, her wand still pointed at the dead wizard, her hand still shaking and feeling rather ill at having killed again for the second time in her young life. Luna and Parvati appeared in the doorway, both looking alarmed. Seeing Daphne’s guilt-stricken features, Luna gave her a hug.

“That one was originally one of Voldemort’s,” hissed Parvati, glaring at the wizard. “He’s one of the ones who captured Harry in the Forbidden Forest when Harry shoved me into the bushes and took a spell for me before they realised I was there too.”

“Th...thanks Luna! I... I’ll be alright now,” Daphne whispered, her trembling diminishing in Luna’s embrace.

Everyone stiffened, wands at the ready when they heard footsteps running in the corridor. They relaxed when a familiar face appeared.

“It’s alright, it’s me...” muttered Dora - who had reverted to her natural form briefly to reassure the others. She changed back into the sentry wizard’s form as she spied the blood and the fallen wizard in the kitchen.

“Blimey, what ‘appened here then?” she asked as Jennifer arrived behind her, followed by Harry and Hermione.

“Fleur and I...” murmured Daphne. “He almost killed her, but... but we got him.”

“Good! That’s Rowle!” said Harry as Jennifer trained her camera on the body. “He was one of the Death Eaters that Voldemort broke out of Azkaban. He and his partner Dolohov evaded capture after the Battle of Hogwarts. He must have been recruited by Minister Umbridge at some point.”

“Someone might be expecting him back very soon,” Hermione said anxiously. “We should probably get a move-on before he’s discovered missing.”

“Yeah...” Harry agreed, “Yeah... we should! You alright then Daphne?”

“I’m okay...” said Daphne, still a bit shakily, giving Harry a wan little smile as she picked up Rowle’s wand and dropped it in her bag.

“Right... the cell-blocks should be this way then. There’s really only one way to go,” said Harry as he led the way. The Coven turned down one passageway, and then another, passing a set of iron double-doors with the insignia of a skull painted in black on the exterior.

“Wait...” whispered Harry, “We should see what’s behind here then...”

Cautiously, Dora and Harry opened the doors as the others stepped back, wands in their ready position. Harry grimaced and the everyone winced at the grinding sound of the iron hinges.

“Why don’t they bloody oil their doors?” Dora muttered crossly.

But the sound was the least of their concerns when the stench hit their noses. The Coven gasped in collective horror at the gruesome contents of the enormous chamber. As if the Inferi in the village hadn’t been bad enough, this was even worse, a ghastly sight out of there worst nightmares. Jennifer stuffed a hand into her mouth to stifle a scream, and tried her utmost to keep her other hand from shaking as she continued filming.

Nearly two hundred bodies in various states of decay were stacked like cordwood in piles near a tridecagram painted in blood on the floor. A heavy oak table nearby was covered in deadly looking metal instruments.

Harry turned green and very nearly threw up when he spied the bodies of little children among the stacks of corpses - many of them mutilated - waiting to be reanimated. Daphne and Parvati both lost the battle to control their stomachs as well, vomiting on the floor, heaving several times.

Hermione turned her tearstreaked face away and flung herself on Harry, sobbing into his chest. Luna burst into heavy sobs for perhaps the first time since the Dementors on the Hogwarts express and fell into Dora’s arms.

“Don’t look sweetie,” Dora murmured, blinking back her own tears and reverting back to her natural form again as she stroked Luna’s hair. “Don't look...” she repeated, unable to tear her own eyes away from the hideous sight.

Tears dripped from Fleur’s pale cheek as she reached for what was clearly an inventory sheet on a clipboard on the table. She placed it into her bag, then she wrapped up the tools of Death and Blood Magic in the piece of canvas they had been lying on and put them in the bag next to the clipboard.

Harry clutched Hermione tightly, and closed his own eyes to steady himself, but the smell burned the afterimage into his brain. Harry knew he would never be able forget this horror as long as he lived. This wasn’t at all unexpected, but seeing it for himself ignited something deep inside him, a fury more intense than the day he’d taken Draco Malfoy’s hand.

A raging inferno began to burn inside Harry. He knew from discussions with Dumbledore, Sirius, and Dora, that the Necromancy was Bellatrix Lestrange’s work. But it was Umbridge who was sponsoring Bellatrix this time.

Umbridge! She was as foul and loathsome as Voldemort had ever been. Worse even! The Venomous Toad hid her sadism behind a veneer of moderation, and justified it all in the name of “Order” and “Security.”

With Voldemort there had been no such pretense to lofty ideals. Tom Riddle had simply been a Psychotic Madman obsessed with blood purity and bent on personal aggrandizement - a powerful Dark Wizard with great ego and no self-control.

Umbridge was cold, calculating... a Merchant of Death, and the very embodiment of Control. In her own way she was as megalomaniacal as Voldemort, and surely as sadistic as Bellatrix, but every murder was just a number in Minister Umbridge’s scheme to “save the wizard world” from ruin by the Undesirables - the “mudbloods” and the “halfbreeds.”

And it was a scheme which she had managed to legitimise to the wizarding public through propaganda and lies.

“I’ll kill her...” Harry muttered through gritted teeth. “If I ever get my hands on Umbridge, I’m going to fucking kill her!”

Harry passed his weeping Hermione to Dora who was also comforting Daphne and Luna now. Fleur had an arm around Jennifer who was still valiantly filming everything. As the rest of the Coven departed from the Chamber of Death, Harry set a number of incendiary and concussive explosive spells, timed to go off in ten minutes, slowly following behind the others. The immolation should hopefully distract the rest of the guards as well as providing some measure of dignity for the Souls of the Dead.

**~o0o~**

Dolohov was tired of waiting for Rowle, and he was bored.

“Probably stuffing his face already,” he muttered to himself with a sardonic grimace. “Hope he remembers my sandwich.”

Rowle was right about one thing though, a double-shift in this place was tedious unless called upon to assist Bellatrix in her work. Dolohov decided to pay another visit to Cell Block C. Bellatrix didn’t mind if her toys were broken in a bit already, and Rowle knew where to find him whenever he was finished munching.

**~o0o~**

The members of the Coven were still pale and shaken by the Death Chamber, but had recovered somewhat by the time they had reached the wing of the compound which contained Cell Blocks A and B. They slipped inside a broom closet to take stock of things before carrying out the next phase of the mission.

“The spells should be going off in about a minute,” Harry murmured, “Hopefully it’ll draw most of the guards away. There’s about sixty prisoners currently, and they’re all in this wing according to the sentry at the front desk...”

“...and then we ought to be able to slip out into the Courtyard in the centre of the compound with the prisoners once we’ve released them, and call Lupin and Sirius for backup,” continued Hermione. “They should be able to apparate into the courtyard and bring some portkeys to get the prisoners away once we’ve broken through any shielding spells from the inside...”

Hermione was interrupted by shaking walls and the sound of explosions coming from the Death Chamber. Some supplies fell off a shelf as the broom closet continued to rock, and guards could be heard yelling and running by.

“How many charges did you set Harry?” Luna asked after the sixth shuddering report, as everyone peered at him questioningly in their wand-light.

“Er... about a dozen in the Chamber itself and maybe six more to go off after that in the Corridor,” Harry muttered, feeling slightly embarrassed and guilty. “...I was angry... Hopefully the follow-up explosions will take a few of those sick bastards out...”

 **“GOOD!”** interjected the rest of the Coven in unison, and Harry quieted.

They counted the explosions, and when they heard no more guards running by, they exited the broom closet in haste. The glow of the fiery blaze that Harry had set could be seen at the far end of the corridor as they rounded the corner into the hall which contained the Cell-blocks. Dora and Harry came to a halt. 

“What’s going on?” yelled one of the guards who had been left behind to watch the prisoners, seeing what appeared to be two of their own leading a new batch of prisoners to the cells. One of the other guards wasn’t so readily fooled.

“Shut up you idiot!” snarled the guard who was clearly in charge as he whipped out his wand. “That lot ain’t with us... Avada Keda...”

Rage bubbling to the surface, Fleur snapped. The guard never got to complete the incantation to his killing spell. He burst into flames, staggering down the hallway screaming when one of Fleur’s Veela fireballs hit him. The other guards who had been momentarily frozen in bewilderment shifted into gear.

Spells began flying hot and heavy. Multicoloured jets of light and arcs of green lightning burst from the guards’ wands as the Coven retaliated. The crackling of sizzling spells was punctuated by shouts, booms, and loud pops which sounded like gunshots. Sparks and debris rained down and the acrid smell of smoke filled the air as the magic ricocheted from the walls. 

Daphne was blasted with a bombarda and slammed against the wall behind her with a sickening crack; she slid down the wall and fell to the floor. Jennifer’s heart leapt into her throat and she almost dropped her video-camera. Briefly distracted by the commotion, Parvati barely missed being sliced in half by a cutting spell which left a deep gash across her shoulder blade.

“I got this. Just keep filmin’...” Dora shouted. Luna covered Dora as she ran to Daphne’s aid, then fired a Reductor at the Unspeakable who had struck Parvati. 

Harry could barely see through a furious haze of red, but his instincts guided his hand. When Daphne was hurled against the wall he savagely slashed his wand and the guard who had attacked her collapsed with a shriek, blood gushing from the wound the sectumsempra curse had ripped across his chest. 

“She’s alright,” Dora called out to Harry and Jennifer. “She’s still breathing. Those Chinese symbols saved ‘er life.”

Nobody had time to feel relieved as the furious battle continued. Dodging a Killing Curse in the nick of time, Hermione’s head impacted the concrete floor when she fell. Briefly dazed, she scrambled to her feet whipping her wand at the wizard who had nearly killed her, slicing his wand hand clean off in a spray of blood. 

One by one, the guards were felled until only one was left. Dora hit him with an Imperius spell.

 **“OPEN THE CELL DOORS!”** she bellowed at the hapless guard.

The Unspeakable had no choice but to obey Dora’s command; he waved a wand and all the cells opened. Dora relieved the wizard of his wand when the task was finished. Jennifer kept her camera trained on the corridor which was filling with more smoke as Hermione, Daphne, Dora, Fleur, and Luna began to direct the terrified and bewildered prisoners to the corridor which led to the courtyard while Harry and Parvati kept their eye on the end of the passage. A number of the freed captives began to babble.

“Wh...who are you?”

“Where are you taking us...?”

“We’re bustin’ you lot outta here... no time to explain!” yelled Dora, “Follow the others... go on, move! Quickly...”

“Not without my daughter!” screamed a hysterical woman. “They took her to Cell Block C...”

“Bloody Hell!” groaned Harry, his face turning ashen. **“LUNA!** ...” Harry shouted. “Leave the prisoners to the others... stay here with Parvati and keep watch for any guards. Hermione and I are going to Cell Block C...”

Harry darted through the throng of released prisoners, grabbing Hermione’s arm, and they both took off running down the hallway amidst the chaos while the others continued to help the internees escape into the courtyard. Parvati spotted two Unspeakables returning from the blazing inferno in the Death Chamber corridor. Apparently they had managed to avoid the secondary set of explosions.

Parvati glanced apprehensively at Luna. “Er... are you ready?”

“Of course!” said Luna calmly, understanding implicitly what Parvati was asking

They waited until the flummoxed Unspeakables began firing killing curses and dodged them. Before the guards had time to raise shield spells, Parvati and Luna were already returning fire with Reductors. The screams of the disintegrating wizards were lost in the cacophony of the mayhem when another delayed explosive spell went off massively - rocking the entire compound - which Harry must have forgotten that he’d set in his anger.

**~o0o~**

Dolohov was starting to undress, leering at the weeping shackled girl in the cell when the walls trembled at the sound of the first explosion.

“Fucking Hell? What the blazes...?” he muttered.

The cell shook again as the sounds of explosions continued to echo through the empty passage which contained Cell Blocks C and D. Zipping up his trousers and belting his robe, bemoaning the interruption before he'd even had his chance at a little fun, Dolohov tentatively stepped into the corridor with his wand at the ready. He waited until the explosions had stopped and began to make his way back to Cell Blocks A and B when he heard a babble of shouting voices and the sound of spell fire. One last explosion shook the building and he halted.

Dolohov spied two figures rounding the corner and aimed his wand, but confusion stayed his hand when he saw who it was. The Unspeakable he knew, but the witch was unfamiliar to him. Then the blood drained from his face when the Unspeakable's features melted like wax and turned into someone else’s which were all too familiar.

 **“POTTER!”** Dolohov barked in shock, too surprised to raise a shield spell in time to prevent Harry’s Reductor spell from hitting him in the chest.

“Harry... why did you show yourself like that?” Hermione asked in puzzlement.

“I... er... I’m not entirely sure. It... it was his spell that took me down in the Forbidden Forest!” Harry answered with an odd expression somewhere between fury and bewilderment. “I dunno... I just thought if anyone here should know it was me - it was Dolohov!”

Hermione nodded, accepting Harry’s reply without question as they both jogged towards the open cell-door. Harry came to an abrupt halt when they reached the door and took a deep breath to steady himself, averting his eyes as his already churning gut clenched tightly. He should have expected this. Hermione bit her lip in consternation when she saw how young the girl shackled to the wall appeared to be. 

“Relashio,” Hermione incanted. The chains and cuffs fell away from the girl’s wrists and ankles as Harry tugged off the Unspeakable robes he was wearing. Harry’s face was a devastating picture of burning rage.

“Put those on the girl and get moving...” Harry growled. “I’ll be right behind you - I’m just going to set some more explosive spells.”

Gasping breathlessly and struggling against tears, Hermione flung the robes over the sobbing girl and carried her to the exit. She wasn’t even as big as Astoria had been when Harry had rescued her from Draco Malfoy. Fleur was waiting just inside the doorway.

“Where’s my mummy?” wailed the girl.

“Outside... Everyone else ees already out!” said Fleur anxiously as she took the girl from Hermione’s arms. “Where ees ‘Arry?”

“He said he’d be right behind me...” Hermione peered down the corridor through the smoke worriedly. 

The compound quaked when another huge blast went off and the smoke billowed as more poured in from the direction she had just come. Hermione’s breath caught; trembling, she clapped her hand to her mouth and her tears began to roll down her cheeks when she couldn’t see Harry. Finally Harry emerged from the smoke, all sooty and coughing as he ran towards Hermione.

 **“THERE...** There he is...! _**HARRY!”**_ she shrieked. _**“COME ON!”**_

More immense explosions began to rock the entire building as Harry sprinted down the corridor at full speed, waving and yelling at the Hermione and Fleur to get out, casting more spells behind him. Fleur picked up the girl and hurried down the other passage to the courtyard, but Hermione refused to budge. 

_**“Hermione... Bloody Hell! Get out of here!”**_ Harry shouted again pointing his wand her direction. 

Hermione gasped and flattened herself against the wall in sudden understanding. Harry’s spells flew by her, shooting down the corridor to the other end and the ceiling began to collapse from continuing impact of the repeated detonations.

Hermione didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until Harry swept her under one of his arms and barreled down the short passageway to the courtyard firing several more parting shots as he ran. Hermione gaped, staggered by the power of Harry’s concussive and incendiary explosive spells, having expected that it would take the entire Coven to accomplish what he was doing to the Ministry compound.

With his last spell as he burst into the courtyard, Harry unleashed a Firestorm spell into the corridor behind them for good measure. Gasping for breath, sweat dripping from their sooty brows, he and Hermione both clutched each other tightly as they regarded the chaos unfolding around them. The girl whom they had freed was already clinging to her mother, both of them sobbing. 

“The mother of the girl you saved told me that she used to work for MI5 as an analyst before uncovering crimes committed the Prime Minister...” said Luna, her silvery eyes boggling.

“There’s other muggles too,” gasped Jennifer, who was still filming everything. “Mostly political activists of different sorts... One of them is the sister of the girl who stayed with us a few days in London...”

Harry was too out of breath - his adrenaline still pumping, his heart still pounding - to respond.  
A number of freed prisoners - as frightened as they already were by the collapsing building and the billowing smoke and flames pouring from blown out doorways and gaping holes in the walls - shrieked in terror at the sound of numerous apparition cracks in the courtyard. Harry was more than a bit startled as well and had his wand in hand ready to break into battle once more.

“It’s alright Harry! The anti-apparition wards broke when we used the Shield Penetration spell while you were still inside rescuing the girl,” explained Dora when she saw Harry looking ready to fight again. “We called in the Order. Dumbledore oughta be here any minute...”

“I am indeed,” said a voice which Harry knew very well.

Harry spun around, one arm still tightly clutching Hermione. He was stunned to see Dumbledore in their midst next to Sirius and Lupin. As he and Hermione both glanced around the courtyard, he could see Arthur and Bill Weasley, Madam Bones, Dawlish, Snape, Hagrid, Moody, Shacklebolt, and several others among the arrivals as well.

Some of them were already gathering around portkeys and vanishing with about six rescued detainees at a time, as Dumbledore explained the presence of so many from the Order.

“When Lupin informed me several minutes ago of what was happening here, and mentioned that you had freed numerous prisoners, I knew you would need as many as the Order could spare to remove them all to safety,” said Dumbledore, his long white beard blowing around in the swirling air currents, blue eyes glittering in the flickering orange light of the flames.

“Sir...” gasped Hermione, speaking for Harry who was still too breathless to speak for himself. “We’ve got lots of proof that they were turning people into Inferi and there’s four knocked-out Unspeakables in the bushes in front of the building...”

“We’ve already got them...” said Lupin.

“Sniffed them out the moment we got here,” added Sirius. “By the way... any sign of my dear cousin Bellatrix?”

“I... I don’t think she was here tonight,” Harry replied, finally managing to catch a breath as his heart-rate began to return to something approaching normal.

“Damn!” swore Lupin. “That would have been something! Still... you’ve done splendidly! Is this all your team’s handiwork?” Lupin gestured at the crumbling, burning fortification surrounding them.

“It’s all Harry’s!” said Hermione, a hint of awe in her voice. “His spells were really powerful.”

“I... I’m not exactly sure how, really!” Harry muttered, swallowing anxiously. “I originally set off a few on that side over there... where the Death Chamber was. They were a bit stronger than I even realised apparently... Then I set off another load of spells on the other side just a few minutes ago,” Harry continued with almost a pleading expression “...and... and then I did the last few spells on that side there as we left the building.

“Honestly, I thought it would take all of us... together... t’do that much damage. I... I don’t know if any of the Unspeakables inside escaped or not...” Harry trailed off, his face ashen when it suddenly hit him what he’d done. He wasn’t quite sure how to say that he didn’t mean to kill every last Unspeakable he could find, not even certain that he would have meant it if he had said it.

Albus Dumbledore peered thoughtfully into Harry’s green eyes, which were glittering in the flames just as his own were. Counter-intuitively perhaps, seeing Harry’s fear at what he had unleashed within himself gave Dumbledore a large measure of comfort. Dumbledore glanced at Mrs Potter, who was determinedly staring at her husband.

“You have _**nothing**_ to feel guilty about Harry!” said Hermione fiercely. “We saved everyone who needed to be saved... and everyone who died brought it on themselves the moment they knowingly took part in the Minister’s **EVIL** operation!”

Harry bit his lip and returned Hermione’s gaze with a watery one of his own, still uncertain. 

“You _must_ listen to your wife Harry,” the real Headmaster of Hogwarts said gently. “She speaks truly... If anything, you continue to show remarkable restraint given the power raging within you. Many would have been utterly consumed by it after witnessing what you have seen... I could not be prouder of the man you have become!

“...And the Minister, I have no doubt now that she shall rue the day that she woke the Dragon within you!”


	64. All I Need For Christmas

The muddy lawn of Black Manor was a scene of bedlam as Order Members began arriving by portkey with the prisoners freed from the Ministry’s Concentration Camp by the Potters and their friends. The internees milled about as they were gradually debriefed and found accommodations in the many rooms of Black Manor. Madam Pomfrey (who had sneaked out of Hogwarts along with Professor McGonagall), bustled about with the assistance of other Order members, performing triage on those most in need of medical attention. 

Harry, Hermione and the rest of the Coven felt a bit useless as every time they tried to help, they were rebuffed at Pomfrey’s insistence that they should all be in recovery themselves after their own traumatic experiences.

“Shoo... shoo, you all need rest and recuperation,” said Pomfrey after she had given them all a once-over and directed McGonagall to dose the Potters and their friends up with calming draughts and find them a quiet place to clean up.

And to be sure, Harry was indeed just going through the motions while lost in a sort of blank fog of emotional numbness. In the end, Dora took charge of the Coven, sweeping a load of calming draughts and sleeping potions into a bag, and they were about to step outside to apparate back to Jennifer’s home when they heard a squeal.

“Gemma,” shouted Clara Dawson, who was hovering at the edges of the throng, trying not to get in anyone’s way. “Over here...”

Gemma whirled around and gasped, surprised to see Clara. She squeezed through the crowd in the parlour and flung herself on her sister, bursting into tears. Clara bit her lip as Gemma sobbed and trembled violently, clinging to her sister for dear life. Overwhelmed with emotion, Clara’s knees wobbled and she began to feel faint. 

“You go on Fleur,” said Dora, when she spotted Clara’s distress. “Get ‘em outta here before they fall apart. It’s a madhouse in here... I’ll be right behind you.” 

“Oui, Chérie,” Fleur agreed as she corralled the Potters, Daphne, Jennifer, Parvati, and Luna and hustled them towards the entry hall.

Seeing the Potters and the rest of the Coven well in hand as Fleur ushered them out of the parlour, Dora scurried across the room and caught the Dawson sisters before they collapsed. She managed to direct them into the dining room where a number of freed detainees were lying on conjured sofas and cots. Deciding that Gemma needed to just let it all out, Dora gave Clara the calming draught and set them both down on one of the sofas.

Feeling a bit more together after downing the potion, Clara peered worriedly at Dora while her sister kept sobbing. 

“Will... will she be alright?” she asked shakily. “What did they do to her?”

Dora frowned uncertainly. She had a very good idea what the Minister’s Death Eaters and Snatchers had been doing to the younger and prettier female prisoners, and she wasn’t really sure how to tell Clara... especially while her sister was crying all over her. Dora was startled when Madam Pomfrey put a hand on her shoulder.

“Why don’t I take things from here dear,” said Pomfrey. 

“I... er... I think I’ll stick around for a few more minutes if it’s alright,” Dora replied. “Clara needs t’know what’s goin’ on. It’s just... Clara’s sister...”

Pomfrey glanced at Clara sadly and nodded. “Of course... I understand.” Madam Pomfrey gently rubbed Gemma’s back, getting her attention. “Come along dear... your sister’s not going anywhere and I need to have a look at you...”

Dora gave Pomfrey a grateful look as the nurse led Gemma to a cot nearby and conjured a curtain around it, then she turned her attention back to Clara who was anxiously wringing her hands and peering at her questioningly. Dora took a deep breath to steady herself.

“Er... I dunno really how to say it without upsettin’ you more,” Dora began. “But there’s really no easy way t’say it...”

Clara paled, her eyes widening in understanding and horror. “Did... did they rape her?” she asked.

“Unfortunately, it’s pretty likely,” said Dora, swallowing regretfully. “Probably tortured ‘er a bit too...” 

Dora paused and took another deep breath. Clara let out a sob and tears began rolling down her cheeks, but she tried to hold herself together enough to ask the other question.

“And... and my friend Warren?”

Dora shook her head. “Sorry Love... No sign of ‘im! If they took him to the same facility - and that’s most likely - he’s probably dead...”

Despite the calming draught, the last bit of horrible news was just too much and Clara crumbled. Dora wrapped her arms around Clara and held her while she sobbed...

**~o0o~**

Tears sprang to Narcissa Black’s eyes as she assisted Lupin and Emmeline Vance who were also treating a number of freed internees from the Ministry’s Death Camp in one of the other parlours. Many of the released had clearly been imprisoned for some time, nearly skin and bone, and some bore the unmistakable marks of torture with bladed implements, a signature technique of Narcissa’s own sister, Bellatrix.

In yet another room of the manor, Albus Dumbledore struggled to keep himself together as he approached Andrea Mason, the ex-MI5 analyst, as she held her still frightened daughter on her lap. Albus felt his heart breaking when he peered into the young girl’s hollow eyes, so much like his sister’s. Had she been a witch, this would be the girl’s first year at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore felt a surge of satisfaction that Harry Potter had ended the lives of her tormenters.

Andrea Mason cuddled her daughter, grateful that the woman who had introduced herself as Madam Pomfrey had healed Samantha’s injuries and dosed her up with sedatives. She heard footsteps nearing her and looked up; her eyes widened and she stared at the bearded old man in surprise. Somehow he looked much more natural in the gaudy colourful robes than he had in the tie-dyed t-shirt and jeans.

“You... I saw you!” she gasped, “At the nightclub in London. That was the night... the night they took me...”

Dumbledore felt a flicker of pain, recognising her as the woman seated at the other end of the bar. He had to remind himself that even wizards were only human.

“Yes...” he said gently, “I am so sorry! Had I known, perhaps you and your daughter would be safe and sound...”

Andrea interrupted him with a snort, her features darkening. “Don’t be sorry... This is the Prime Minister’s doing! I wouldn’t be here if ‘e hadn’t sicced his dogs on me... They’re the one’s who turned me over to those monsters. It’s your lot who saved me and my girl. Those kids - they saved everyone... everyone who hadn’t already been murdered in any case. They’re real heroes...”

Dumbledore nodded. “They are indeed...” 

He paused a moment, considering the appropriateness of his timing, then decided that there really was no good time to make his request. 

“Would you be willing to testify to that... to the fact that the Prime Minister’s agents turned you over to the operators of the internment facility?”

“In a heartbeat!” Andrea answered without hesitation. “But nobody would believe me... Wizards running death camps? They’d lock me in a nuthouse if I came forward!”

“No...” Dumbledore shook his head, “I mean testify before an International Wizarding Tribunal. Collusion between the Minister of Magic and the Prime Minister, and the subjugation of non-magical persons is a very serious crime in the wizard world. Your testimony would be critical in holding both the current Minister of Magic and the Prime Minister to account.”

Andrea’s eyebrows shot up as she felt a surge of hope. “Really? You mean the PM himself would be locked up by wizards?” 

“Doubtful!” Dumbledore replied. “Unless it could be shown that the Prime Minister himself had unlawfully wielded magic to commit crimes. More likely, the Prime Minister would be turned over to the proper authorities, and his prosecution would be guaranteed by some means of magical intervention in the process - even if it meant having to manufacture evidence which would be accepted in a non-magical court of law. 

“However, in this instance, I suspect that exposing the Prime Minister’s non-magical crimes would be enough to see him prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. According to my pupil - Miss Lovegood - you revealed to her while awaiting our arrival that you had evidence against him...”

“Yeah...” Andrea felt another surge of hope, then she groaned. “I did anyway, before the black ops unit took my computer files...”

“Those could be recreated magically if necessary,” said Dumbledore, feeling a swell of optimism. 

He had already spoken to the other muggles who had been imprisoned among the muggleborn wizards and witches - and had collected their memories for Pensieve viewing as well. Every last one of the muggle detainees had been presumed political enemies of the muggle Prime Minister or his party, many of them activists for various causes.

With their testimony - and especially Andrea Mason’s - along with the video footage of the raid on the compound, and the physical evidence collected by the Potters and their friends, securing the opening of an investigation of Minister Umbridge by the ICW was a near certainty. 

With Ms Mason’s approval, Dumbledore beckoned Severus Snape to film an interview with Jennifer Watts’ video-camera. Having already filmed several interviews with other freed prisoners, Snape had familiarised himself with the operation of the muggle technology. He was extremely impressed that the Potters had mastered the advanced spells necessary to make muggle electronics work with magic instead of electricity.

Meanwhile, Shacklebolt, Hagrid, and Dawlish all kept watch over the Unspeakables captured at the Ministry’s Death Camp - the four who had been rendered unconscious by the Potters and their friends, and the dozen who had showed up for the Night Shift while the Internees were still being evacuated.

**~o0o~**

The bite of the cold night air and the relative peace and quiet outside Madam Black’s manor was a welcome relief to Hermione. She bit her lip and peered at Harry worriedly as they sat together outside with the others waiting for Dora. Hermione was thrilled that Clara had been reunited with her sister, but she could see how lost Harry looked and wanted to get him home as soon as possible.

Home! Hermione caught herself; she couldn’t quite get over how quickly she had come to think of Jennifer’s manor as home. She felt as much at home there as she did at Number Twelve. Hermione glanced at Jennifer, who was sitting nearby huddled with Daphne and Fleur conversing in whispers.

Hermione felt the sting of an icy raindrop as it hit her burning skin, then another, and another. Apparently everyone was glad to be outside; nobody made a move to get up and return to the house despite the freezing rain as it grew heavier. Hermione put both arms around Harry and leaned her bushy head on his shoulder.

**~o0o~**

Having just dozed off, Minister Umbridge bolted upright in her bed when she heard her Floo-Alert sound. She glanced at her clock and noted that it was shortly after midnight. Grumbling as she pulled a dressing-gown over her nightie and grabbed her wand, she made her way to the fireplace in her sitting room. She peered at the small picture on the mantle which informed her of an incoming communication from the Ministry and waved her wand, unlocking her Floo. Green flames flared in the hearth and a memo shot out.

Dolores snatched it from the air, knowing that it could not be good news at this time of night. Her lips pursed, and her nostrils flared as her eyes darted through the memo. Furiously, she dressed in a hurry and quickly departed for the Ministry.

“Why wasn’t I informed hours ago?” the Minister barked at the Unspeakable when she arrived at the monitoring station in the Department of Mysteries.

“Only just found out ourselves Chief,” the nervous looking Unspeakable replied. “The Night-Shift at the Welsh facility never responded to our Midnight check-in. We sent a team to check up as per protocol, and they determined that it happened shortly before shift change... Whoever’s responsible must’ve waylaid the Night Shift when they showed up...”

The Minister looked up when she heard the door slam open, and spied her disheveled deputy bursting into the room.

“I came as soon as I heard, Dolores...” gasped Percy Weasley, trying to smooth his frizzy red hair with his fingers. “How bad is it?”

Minister Umbridge calculated quickly in her mind, wondering if her Senior Undersecretary was ready to see everything. He had come a long way from the eager, greedily ambitious, yet naive boy she had initially recruited, even going as far as to torture his own father. He had supported completely the recruiting of Voldemort’s Death Eaters and Snatchers, the ending of the ban on the use of Unforgivables by Ministry personnel, and wholeheartedly approved the purging and incarceration of the Mudbloods and other Undesirables, but was he ready yet for the next step?

Or would he balk when he came to understand the finality of the solution to the Mudblood Problem which she and the Pureblood Supremacists in Operations had been working on for so long? Finally Dolores made up her mind. If Percy Weasley wasn’t ready now, he never would be.

“Well, Percy,” sighed Dolores, “perhaps we should see for ourselves! A team is already in place investigating, we may as well join them...”

**~o0o~**

Out of the darkness, white flakes whirled around in little flurries, caught in the wandlight of the searchers and the orange glow of burning embers. The snow had begun falling again.

Ignoring the snowfall, Senior Undersecretary Weasley strolled beside Minister Umbridge through the haze of smoke and the devastation at the Ministry’s Welsh detention centre, his face ashen. The fires had been mostly put out, and bits of the compound were still standing, but the rubble where the building had collapsed was still smouldering.

Dolores eyed her deputy approvingly as he registered the right level of shock at seeing the seared corpses of the Unspeakables. Her brows furrowed pensively as she studied his reaction when they came across what appeared to be the partially cremated remains of perhaps two hundred persons piled in one demolished room.

“Well, that doesn’t make sense...” Percy Weasley muttered. “Surely they would have freed the prisoners, not burned them alive. Unless...” Percy’s eyes widened and he swallowed when the implication suddenly struck him. He glanced at the Minister as his breath quickened.

“...Unless they were already dead,” the Minister said softly in a saccharine tone, regarding Percy with her most sympathetic expression. “Yes... it is most unfortunate that it has come to this Percy. There are some who are far too recalcitrant, and who are far too determined to destroy everything which we hold dear.

“There are indeed also many who have proved themselves willing to give up their goals of stealing our identities and our culture, and they are of _course_ being shown all due mercy. But these... _**these**_ are the remains of those who were deemed as representing the gravest threat to our way of life after refusing to comply with lawful orders and demonstrating a propensity for violent behaviour.

“It simply would not do to have given them the opportunity to escape and join Dumbledore’s rebellion. And you have seen the viciousness the rebels are capable of - the lengths they are willing to go to attain their goals... assassination and murder, lawlessness, destruction, chaos... and a complete upending of the Natural Order. It is sometimes necessary to fight fire with fire - for the Greater Good - do you understand, Percy?”

Percy felt unsteady on his feet, his head swimming. He closed his eyes briefly to steady himself. Percy had supported legally ending the ban of the use of the Cruciatus and the Killing Curses as a means of defending the Ministry and restoring Order against the murderous Insurrectionists, but he had never imagined that Death would be employed as a means of punishment after capture. 

Had the Ministry gone too far?

But he had viewed the wanton destruction of the detention centre, and gazed at the broken and charred bodies of the Unspeakables. He had seen their faces frozen in a rictus of pain and suffering; Percy knew that many had died screaming as they burned alive.

His nostrils flared when he thought back to the mutilated corpse of Draco Malfoy which had been delivered to the Ministry. And he had no doubt that in contrast, the Insurrectionists had been offered a merciful ending, clean and painless in a flash of green light.

Percy felt a surge of anger when he realised that the Minister was right - the Rebels would stop at nothing. There was no depth to the levels of their depravity in their bid to spread Chaos and Disorder, Abomination and Filth, polluting wizard-kind with impurity and disease.

“Yes Minister...” Percy said stiffly, slowly nodding as his jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. “I do understand!”

**~o0o~**

Feeling much better, Hermione let out a sigh as Harry washed her back under the hot spray of water, rinsing the soot and filth away with the suds. She watched the muck and foam swirl down the drain before turning to face her silent husband through the steam in the shower. His eyes still had a distant look about them.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked as she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her nakedness against his, and gave him a kiss.

“Hunh?”

“I know you’re still feeling dreadful Harry. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I... I dunno Hermione...” Harry responded, swallowing anxiously. Talking about it was the last thing he wanted to do; he just wanted to forget it, bury the images as deep as he could, never to be seen again.

 ** _“Please_** Harry!” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes as the steaming water cascaded over the pair of them. 

Harry felt himself overcome with a wave of vertigo as he gazed into Hermione’s pleading brown eyes. He closed his eyes and began shaking. The visions of horror and depravity, the stink of death... As he felt his wife’s body next to his, her warmth, her life, to Harry’s own surprise the memories were overpowered by a deep sense of shame, and he realised what it was that he was really trying to bury. 

“I... I’m afraid Hermione,” he reluctantly admitted as he trembled in her wet embrace. “I... I’m not sure who I am anymore! I killed a load of people tonight, and... and I _**wanted**_ to... I wanted to see them _**all**_ suffer and die. I was so _**angry**_... angrier than I’ve ever been! ... I know they murdered and tortured people, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.

“That anger... I know that’s why my explosive spells were so powerful... and it scares me because I can feel it still inside of me! ... I _**hate**_ that feeling Hermione! I don’t want to be like them... I don’t... I’m afraid I’m turning evil... I don’t want to be like them...” 

Harry clung to Hermione tightly, trying desperately to keep himself from falling apart and letting the darkness free to rampage and destroy everything he loved. 

Hermione was heartbroken to feel Harry so guilt-stricken, so shattered and lost; her tears trickled down her cheeks. She took a deep breath to steady herself, trying to be strong for Harry, trying to think of the right words to reassure him. Then they came to her... a remembered conversation... words spoken by Harry himself following the Battle of Hogwarts.

“But you’re not - you’re NOT evil. You’re a _**good**_ person. And the fact that you feel remorse proves it! ... We _all_ feel the same way Harry...” said Hermione, giving him another teary kiss. “None of us _really_ wants to kill anyone, even when we feel like we _**do**_ \- even when we know how horrid and deserving of it those disgusting, _**EVIL**_ people are... I’ll _**never**_ be able to get what I saw in that Death Chamber out of my mind! ...”

“Nor I...” Harry muttered. “That... that’s why I’m afraid...”

“I know Harry! I know... Yes, you did kill a lot of people tonight. But every time I see that Death Chamber in my mind, it reminds me that there _**is**_ a difference... You’re _**not**_ like them - we _**saved**_ a lot of lives tonight Harry! A lot of _innocent_ lives! We saved that little girl... we saved Clara’s sister... and so many other people... And those butchers and torturers, they won’t ever be able to hurt anyone again.”

“Yeah... you’re right Hermione!” Harry nodded as he struggled to believe it. “I know what we’re fighting for, and I know it’s something I’m just going to have to learn to live with! It’s just... it’s just, what if this feeling never goes away? What if I ever lose control of it? Wh...What if I ever _**do**_ become ‘consumed by it’ and start to hurt innocent people... people I love?”

“You won’t Harry! I _**know**_ you won’t... if you don’t trust yourself, trust _**me!**_ I can feel everything you’re feeling inside yourself Harry... It’s what I feel too... and I’m telling you, that anger, that pain, the grief... it’s not coming from Hate! It’s _**Love**_ Harry!

“And... and that love will continue to guide your hand - and stay it when it needs to be stayed... you have GOOD instincts Harry! I trust them with all my heart, and so do the rest of your friends!”

Harry turned off the shower and peered at his wet dripping wife, biting his lip, unable to contain himself any longer. The steel and concrete walls he’d been putting up all evening collapsed like wet cardboard as the truth of her faith in him thundered through him like a tidal wave. The surge of emotion swept his senses away and he embraced Hermione tightly again, crushing his lips against hers, tears mingling with the shower water still clinging to his face.

Harry didn’t really understand how or why, but the raging volcanic fury which he’d been trying to contain within himself erupted as a turbulent blend of ardour and grief. Hermione burst as she cradled her husband in her arms, sobbing as she released her own pent up cyclonic mix of passion and sadness.

Together they slid down the slick tiles into the draining puddles at the bottom of the marble tub, limbs entwined, clinging to each other, their anguish flowing away with their tears as they poured their hearts into one another. There was a blaze of light; magic arced like bolts of lightning and the bathroom rocked...

**~o0o~**

Dumbledore had followed Dora when she had finally arrived to return to Jennifer’s manor with the others. He had sent them directly back to Jennifer’s manor with a Portkey which had been set with a permanent link to Narcissa Black’s manor. Dumbledore had assured them that the Order had things well in hand, and that they had done their bit for the moment.

“Truly, you have all been magnificent,” he had told them with a sad, weary smile. “I don’t doubt that you wish to forge ahead, but for now, you must all rest and recover yourselves while we look after those you have rescued and organise the evidence you have gathered. With this portkey you shall be able to travel back and forth between the manors as needed, at any time, without having to step outside the wards of the estates to apparate.

“As soon as we have things sorted here, I shall recall you when we have made plans to retake Hogwarts, and broadcast everything we have to the public. Please, look after each other well for the next few days, as the battle is just beginning. There is no question that we shall all find ourselves in the thick of things again soon enough...”

Having returned to Jennifer’s, the other members of the Coven were now sharing gentle cuddles, waiting for Harry and Hermione to join them. They were already cleaned up, snuggled under blankets on sofas in one of the parlours near a roaring fire with hot cocoa in their hands, comforting each other, as nobody wanted to sleep apart tonight. They had all seen too much death and horror over the past week or so.

Their tearful eyes widened in astonishment when they felt the entire manor quake. Dora’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, realising that Harry and Hermione had forgotten to mention the link between the accidental release of sex-magic in the Room of Requirement and the Castle-quakes at Hogwarts. But surely they weren’t, right now...?

Luna peered at Dora perceptively.

“It’s not what you think,” she said quietly with a beatific smile. “They’re just healing...”

“Really? How can you tell?” asked Dora, looking intrigued. Parvati, Jennifer, and Daphne peered at Luna questioningly as well.

“I’m not sure really,” Luna replied truthfully. “The vibration I suppose - it just felt like healing.”

Fleur looked pensive for a moment, then she smiled and nodded. “Oui, I sense it too Luna...”

**~o0o~**

The stars shone brightly through a gap in the clouds above the rolling Dorset hills, shimmering directly upon the rippling surface of the pond in a clearing surrounded by copses of willows and evergreens. The pond and its immediate surrounds were the only area untouched by the first Dorset snowfall in some years. The manor-house nearby and the rest of the estate was steadily building a blanket of white.

But the starlight wasn’t the only thing shining in the glade with the pool near the Elizabethan manor.

From a distance, the silvery glowing creatures flitting among the bulrushes and ferns, illuminating the Greek statuary and stone benches, might have easily been taken for fireflies. But if one were much nearer, and paying much more attention with an open mind, one might have noticed that the tiny luminous figures basking in the purified ambience were much more humanoid in appearance, despite being attached to gossamer wings.

**~o0o~**

Infuriated by the loss of the Welsh compound, Minister Dolores Umbridge had considered her options the morning following the attack. It was clear that Dumbledore and his people - and perhaps even Potter and his wife themselves - had been keeping busy rather than laying low in hiding. They were no doubt seeking out the other facilities, but it simply was not logistically feasible to hide them completely, due to their very nature. It was only a matter of time before another detention centre was located and attacked.

And worse than that, it appeared that a number of prisoners had been freed. And if Dumbledore had some of the muggles, then things with the ICW could soon become extremely complicated. It was quite possible that Dumbledore had enough evidence to convince the ICW to begin an investigation.

While International Law prevented the ICW from determining most internal policies and intervening in internal disputes, their power to Sanction wizarding governments and issue International Arrest Warrants, should they have the votes on the responsible committees, could greatly hamper Dolores’s efforts and restrict her ability to travel abroad. Some sort of countermeasure which could cloud the evidence needed to be taken - perhaps at Hogwarts.

Minister Umbridge had restrained the Carrows, much to their dismay, as there were no Mudbloods left at Hogwarts to punish. However, there were still those at Hogwarts who had been close to the Potters and apparently favoured by Dumbledore. It was perhaps time to let the Carrows’ leash slacken - particularly regarding certain Gryffindors, but Dolores decided to wait a few days at least to see what came of the assault on the detention centre. It was Christmas after all.

**~o0o~**

Incredibly, Harry felt much better when he woke up the following morning. The awful feelings of the night before - which had perhaps even been worse than how he’d felt after Voldemort had ritually murdered the little boy to restore himself - weren’t gone, but they were much more manageable than he had believed possible. He pushed them aside and smiled at Hermione who was stirring next to him on the sofa.

Harry reached out a hand and delicately tucked the stray lock of golden hair which had fallen across Hermione’s face behind her ear. He knew it was all her doing. Without her he’d be a complete mess. Harry looked at the blurry clock on the wall, which indicated that it was getting on for noon, and glanced around the parlour, seeing everyone else either still asleep on sofas, or stirring awake and yawning.

“Mmm... Morning Harry,” said Hermione sleepily as her eyelids fluttered open. “Happy Christmas...”

“Wait... _what?”_ Harry gasped, his eyes widening in shock. 

Was it really Christmas already? Harry rubbed his eyes and put on his glasses. Sure enough, Dobby had apparently decorated the parlour with holly wreaths, ornaments, tinsel, and candles while they had been sleeping. Harry groaned, realising that he hadn’t bought anyone any presents.

“It’s alright Harry,” Hermione murmured, guessing what Harry was thinking. “You’re all I need for Christmas. And I feel happy just knowing that we’ve given a lot of people their lives back.”

Harry wasn’t the only one shocked that it was already Christmas. Dora’s eyes boggled when she saw the decorations.

“Blimey! Christmas already?” she muttered. 

“Wow! Really?” squeaked Parvati. 

Daphne shook her head in amazement, and Luna and Fleur giggled at the expressions on everyone’s faces. Jennifer opened the curtains, gasping.

“It snowed! ... I can’t remember the last time it snowed in Dorset.”

A movement by the parlour entrance caught Harry’s eye, and he just had to laugh when he saw Dobby peeking through the doorway. Dobby had a red Father Christmas hat perched on his head between his bat-like ears, and delicious cooking smells wafted into the room from the kitchen. 

“Dobby makes breakfast,” said the grinning house-elf. “Would Master Harry and Mistresses like Dobby to bring food to parlour, or be eating in dining room or kitchen?”

As usual, Dobby’s sumptuous spread lifted everyone’s spirits, and even Fleur couldn’t resist, forgoing her usual croissant as Dobby had branched out a bit with crêpes and quiches. When they had finished, they all felt better than they had for over a week, though the future still loomed uncertainly.

After breakfast, Harry wasn’t sure what to do; despite his improved mood, he still felt restless, and he wasn’t sure that he could just sit and watch TV, or read as Hermione was doing. He was considering training, but he had a very strong feeling that everyone would gang up on him and force him to relax. Hermione looked up from the science fiction book she had found in the manor’s library and saw that Harry needed a more physical distraction.

“Why don’t you have a go at painting in Jennifer’s studio, Harry?” she suggested. “I know you’ve been wanting to try for a while, but you haven’t really had time for it.”

Harry’s face brightened. “Yeah... Yeah, that’s a great idea Hermione. Brilliant! Thanks...”

Hermione followed Harry to the studio to keep him company and plonked herself down in a comfortable lounge chair while Harry set up a canvas and picked out some oil-colours and brushes. It was nearly teatime when Hermione glanced up from her book.

“That’s lovely Harry,” she said encouragingly.

“Thanks...” Harry regarded the splashes of colour on the canvas dubiously, “it’s a rough start anyway...”

“No... really, it’s beautiful,” Hermione insisted.

“She’s right you know. The palette is gorgeous, and your brush strokes are strong,” asserted Jennifer, who was standing in the doorway with Luna. “Are you sure you’ve never painted before, Harry?”

“Only runes and symbols before now,” said Harry. “This is the first time I’ve ever had a go at painting a picture. It’s more... er... ‘impressionistic’ than I wanted it to be,” he laughed. “I don’t really have a clue... I don’t know enough about oil painting techniques to do anything more realistic.”

“Well I’d certainly recognise the place if I ever saw it Harry,” Luna chimed in. “Where is it supposed to be?”

“Er... I dunno really!” Harry scratched his head and bit his lip pensively, reddening. “I... erm... I just sort of made the landscape up! Anyway... I suppose it’s teatime then?” he deflected.

“We’re taking a picnic to eat by the pond. Do you want to join us?” said Luna, picking up on Harry’s embarrassment at being praised for something he was uncertain of.

“A picnic? In the snow?” Harry gave Luna a funny look, and Hermione was equally perplexed, but Jennifer excitedly responded.

“We’ve just been outside for a walk and I can’t believe it... there’s snow everywhere except by the pond. Come and look.” 

“Er... yeah, alright then,” Harry quickly cleaned up and they all headed for the pond behind the manor. 

After trudging through the snow covered gardens as light flakes continued to fall, Harry and Hermione were stunned by the scene. It looked more like spring by the pond, flowers blooming, Dragonflies buzzing about and skimming across the shimmering surface of the pool, and the temperature increased as they passed through the edge of the snow into the green zone.

Everyone sat by the water’s edge happily munching the Christmassy snacks that Dobby had packed in the basket for them: sausage rolls, cheese straws, and mince pies, rounded off with mulled wine and eggnog to wash it all down. 

Jennifer noticed the book that Hermione was reading as they sat by the water’s edge with the rest of the Coven.

“ _Stranger in a Strange Land_ ? Do you like Robert Heinlein then?” asked Jennifer after finishing her sandwich.

“I’ve never actually read any of his works before. When it comes to fiction, I’ve mostly just read the literary Classics and some British children’s literature.” Hermione turned a bit pink at the admission. “Besides classic science fiction like Jules Verne and HG Wells, I’ve only read a bit of Isaac Azimov and few others. This book caught my attention because of its reputation as a modern classic...”

Several emotions flickered across Jennifer’s features before she grinned.

“That was one of my father’s favourite books,” she said. “I don’t think Mum liked it very much though - I thought it best not to tell her I’d read it. I prefer some of Heinlein’s books for kids. Honestly, I always thought that one was really weird and sexist, but maybe I was just a bit young for it. I dunno... either way, it strikes me a bit as a teenage boy’s sex fantasy,” Jennifer concluded with an eye-roll.

With more than a bit of curiosity, Harry picked up the thick book and flicked through it as Dora looked over his shoulder and the others glanced to see what they were talking about. A wry little smile crept to Harry’s lips when he noticed from the bookmark that Hermione appeared to be nearly finished with it already.

“I know what you mean... I’m not quite sure what to make of it either,” Hermione confessed. “It’s got some really interesting ideas that seem ahead of its time - ahead of our time even - but some of the attitudes of the characters towards women and gay men are more than a bit dated, which is really odd considering its overall message... But not so odd considering it was written in the 1950’s I suppose... It’s a real mixed bag. 

“My Auntie Joanne likes this book, and according to her it inspired some of the communal values and open-mindedness about sex and religion in the counterculture movement of the late 1960’s... that’s why it caught my interest when I saw it on the bookshelf. I know you can’t just assume that because a character in a book says something, it means the author believes it... but still...” Hermione trailed off ambivalently.

“So what ees it all about then?” asked Fleur.

Jennifer answered with another grin. “It’s about a man brought back to Earth after being raised by Martians. He’s sort of got magical powers that the Martians taught him, and he ends up starting a sort of ‘sex-cult’ where everyone loves each other and they all learn Martian magic...”

“Oh... that sounds right up my alley then,” Dora chortled. “Maybe I’ll give that book a go when you’re finished with it Hermione...”

**~o0o~**

Dolores was just about to sit down to Christmas dinner by herself when the Floo-Alert sounded. She was a bit surprised when the picture on the mantle above her fireplace indicated the imminent arrival of Percy Weasley, but she supposed she really shouldn’t be.

“I’m sorry Dolores,” said her glum looking deputy as he stood in the hearth surrounded by green flames. “I hope you don’t mind. I... I didn’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“Of course not dear! I’m delighted to have you. Come in... come in... Please, sit, join me for dinner.” 

Dolores directed Percy to the dining room table which was well decked out with what appeared to be a splendid looking feast considering that she didn’t have any house-elves. Percy offered his appreciation as Dolores poured him a glass of wine and set up a plate of dinner for him, but he seemed more than a bit lost and distant. 

Dolores took her own seat and for a while they ate in silence; she peered at Percy patiently. Finally, after the second glass of wine, Percy managed to open up a bit about what had him so distraught.

“It’s Penelope,” he said morosely. “I think it’s over between us. Penelope says she needs her space,” Percy grumbled as he picked at his dinner, rolling some peas around on his plate, “...to work out what she wants out of life or something - says she doesn’t know who I am anymore, and that she needs to sort out whether it’s me or her that’s changed...”

“There, there dear. Never mind, Percy,” said Dolores sympathetically, gently patting the back of his hand. “I’m sure she’ll come around eventually. And if not, please believe that you are quite the catch. Any young pureblood witch would be very lucky to have you for their own. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Perhaps some more elf-wine dear...?”

“Oh... er... yes please!” Percy blushed slightly, considering Dolores’s words as she poured some more wine into his glass.

Dolores was probably right, he decided after draining the third glass of wine. Penelope and he had been having difficulties for quite some time; they had been growing more distant ever since he had joined the Ministry in fact. And things really hadn’t been the same between them at all after Percy had put Hermione Potter on trial alongside her husband. The fights had become more and more frequent.

Percy narrowed his eyes, thinking that perhaps he was well shot of Penelope if she harboured sympathies for Rebels and Muggleborns. He took a sip from his fourth glass of elf-wine as he turned his attention to the evening news on the Wiz-Vision. The news of the incident at the Ministry’s Welsh detention centre had been suppressed of course. It wouldn’t do for the Ministry to look weak, or for news of Dumbledore’s successes to receive any free publicity...

**~o0o~**

Having polished off a Christmas Feast of turkey with all the trimmings, Harry pushed back his empty plate with a pleasantly full feeling and took a swig of his hot apple cider. Some of the others were still eating, but Harry thought he ought to take a break and save some room for the many desserts that Chef Dobby had prepared. Thinking that it must be nearly time to check in with Dumbledore, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his mirror. He had barely touched it when the Headmaster’s features appeared.

“Ah... Harry, you’re available. Excellent!” said Dumbledore. “I trust you and Mrs Potter and your friends are managing to have a Happy Christmas despite all?” 

“Yes sir!” Harry peered eagerly at the Headmaster, who looked as if he had some news to impart. “Yeah... just finished dinner. How’s your... er... Christmas going?”

“As well as can be expected under the circumstances,” Dumbledore sighed. “We are doing our best to meet the needs of all those you rescued, and provide them with a measure of the Christmas Spirit. Needless to say, it remains a daunting task for the most traumatised among them...”

Hermione poked her bushy head over Harry’s shoulder with a concerned look. “How are Clara and her sister doing?” she asked.

“All things considered, the Dawson sisters are remarkably resilient,” Dumbledore replied. “Though of course, recovery will take some time for Gemma Dawson, and the apparent loss of their friend Warren is no doubt devastating. I suppose one could hold out some small hope that he may yet be found at one of the other facilities...”

As she took a bite of her roast potato, Dora perked her ears and she glanced at the Potters when the prospects for Gemma’s recovery was mentioned. 

“In any case,” Dumbledore went on, “get as much rest as you can. Mrs Potter, I am relying on you to see that Harry takes his need for downtime as seriously as he takes his training...”

There were a few giggles around the table at that and Harry’s face reddened.

Dumbledore continued as if he hadn’t heard, “...as he and the rest of you will only have a few days at best. The Order and I are sorting out the evidence and making preparations, and all should be ready to move by the morning of New Year’s Day. The time has come to...”

“...Retake Hogwarts?” Harry interjected hopefully.

“Indeed Harry!” Dumbledore couldn’t help but smile and a twinkle returned to his eyes for the first time in days. “I will be contacting you early on New Year’s Eve to finalise arrangements. Now, by all means, please continue to enjoy the excellent feast that Dobby is no doubt providing for you!”

A wave of excitement rippled around the table as Dumbledore’s visage faded from the mirror. Harry felt a surge of hopefulness which he doubted could be matched by any other news. And that’s when Luna dropped the bombshell.

“Ginny’s going to be joining us for Boxing Day,” she said, grinning from ear to ear...


	65. The Lifely Hallows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more explicit version of this chapter is now available in _Moments in Love: The Steamy Version._

Hermione sighed happily, her dream of dallying with Harry amidst a field of vibrant wildflowers on a bright sunny day seemed deliciously real. She tingled with elation as Harry’s ministrations brought her to a peak. Just as Hermione thought it couldn’t get any better, the dream faded and her eyes fluttered open, catching the scattered rays of golden sunlight streaming through the frosted over windowpanes.

She squealed with delight to find her waking reality so much like the dream - Harry showering her with his intimate affections. Hermione’s toes curled; she ran her fingers through his messy black hair as she trembled blissfully a second time. Gasping, Hermione shuddered ecstatically, her head spinning and sparks of magic flying. 

Finally, Hermione giddily slumped back against her pillow, dazed and panting. Harry’s grinning face appeared when he crawled up the bed beside her to give her a gentle kiss. Hermione beamed at him.

“That... that was amazing,” she gasped breathlessly. 

“It’s your Christmas Present...” Harry chortled. “It’s only the Second Day of Christmas after all and I had to give you _something_.”

“Mmm... It was _lovely_ Harry! Thank you! Do you want _your_ present now? Or do you want to save your energy for later?”

“Er... later?”

“Well, Ginny’s coming for Boxing Day, remember?”

“Yeah... But I thought... for Luna...” Harry’s eyes widened when it hit him. “OH! Er... You mean we’re going to do the Coven thing _today?_ ... What about Parvati?”

“Apparently Ginny and Luna have it all worked out,” Hermione giggled. “Parvati’s going to join them for a threesome.”

Harry gaped at Hermione. She giggled again; the expression on Harry’s face was too precious, caught between bewilderment, anxiety, a hint of unintentional arousal, and guilt for even thinking about it. 

“Er... erm...” Harry didn’t know what to say. 

Hermione pulled Harry closer and snogged him silly. When she finally released his lips from her own, Harry looked dazed and giddy. He gave her a lopsided grin. 

“Blimey! Well I suppose we’ll give this a go then...”

By the time Harry and Hermione had showered, dressed, and arrived in the kitchen for breakfast, everyone else was already sitting around the table with Ginny and giggling, apparently discussing their plans for the day. 

Ginny grinned at the Potters when she saw them enter the kitchen. When Harry couldn’t quite meet her eyes - or Luna’s or Parvati’s either - she snorted mirthfully and struggled to maintain her composure. 

“Hi Harry, Hermione... Happy Christmas!” 

“Happy Christmas Ginny! Er... You sure you won’t be missed at Hogwarts?” Harry asked. 

Ginny shook her head. “I’ll be fine. It’s Christmas Holidays. I told the girls in my dorm that I might not be back till tomorrow morning - they think I’m just going to a party and sleeping over at another House tonight... I didn’t tell them exactly which one. And nobody else will even notice that I’m gone.”

“That’s brilliant Ginny!” Hermione beamed. “So, how was it getting here then? Did everything go alright? Phineas Nigellus didn’t give you too much trouble I hope?”

Ginny giggled and shook her head again. “No! Headmaster Black is really funny. He acts all superior and like he hates kids, but I think it’s all for show...”

Harry grinned and finally looked Ginny in the eye. “Yeah... I sort of got that impression too actually. He’s a bit of a laugh.”

Harry sat next to Hermione and breakfast got properly underway; he couldn’t help feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement, wondering if he would be too embarrassed by the prospect of being within shouting distance of other couples with just a bit of foliage for cover to perform. All of a sudden he remembered a Rita Skeeter article and he groaned, palming his face.

“What’s wrong Harry?” asked Parvati. 

Harry reddened. “Er... I was just thinking about that stupid ‘Secret Harem’ article Skeeter wrote...”

At that, everyone burst into gales of laughter. Luna laughed so hard that she nearly fell out of her seat. Dora choked on the piece of toast she was munching. Fleur patted her on the back and after a couple of coughs Dora gulped down some orange juice to clear her throat.

“Yeah... Not so far off the mark after all, eh?” chortled Dora. “But really, it’s _**not**_ the same at all Harry. It’s not like _**you’ll**_ be having sex with the lot of us.”

That set off another round of uproarious hilarity and this time Luna really did fall out of her chair. His face burning like a furnace turned on full, Harry buried it in both hands and slumped on the table letting out another long groan. Unable to control her own giggles, Hermione rubbed his back consolingly.

As everyone settled back down and the laughter abated, Harry wasn’t the only one to be afflicted by anxious contemplation of the upcoming event. Daphne glanced at Jennifer, wondering if she was really up to participating in the Coven ritual. Though she and Jennifer had grown more and more intimate, on each occasion Daphne had been the recipient of Jennifer’s amorous affections and it seemed to Daphne that Jennifer was avoiding Daphne’s tentative attempts to reciprocate.

Jennifer caught Daphne’s look and turned pink, correctly surmising Daphne’s quandary.

“I’ll be alright,” Jennifer murmured. “I’m ready for this. I’m sure of it.”

Parvati kept glancing nervously at Luna and Ginny, who both seemed very eager and not at all anxious about participating in a threesome. Parvati had to admit that she had enjoyed “practicing” with Luna very much, more than she had thought she would. And somehow - as embarrassing as it was - the idea that Ginny was watching them through the mirror had made it even more exciting. 

But this was different. This time it would be all three of them together; and though the idea of it was arousing, Parvati wondered if she would be able to follow through when it came right down to it. 

Fleur and Dora peered at the others perceptively as breakfast was finished in a much quieter manner than it had begun.

The rest of Boxing Day morning and early afternoon was spent giving Ginny a tour of Jennifer’s estate and lounging around chatting and watching the muggle television. Harry grinned and shook his head when Ginny teased him a little bit about being Luke Skywalker after Luna insisted on playing the videotape of _Star Wars_ for her. 

Finally the agreed upon time arrived; it had been decided to take a late lunch (or early Tea) and eat it by the pond before beginning the ritual while it was still light outside.

The sky was clear as they all shuffled through the snowy gardens to the pond. Even though she had seen it earlier that morning, Ginny still couldn’t get over the fact that it seemed like a balmy Spring afternoon once they had passed across the snow line into the meadow grasses. Her skin tingled as she entered the glade with the others and like everyone else had the day before, she looked to Hermione for answers.

“I’m really not sure Ginny,” Hermione admitted when Ginny asked. “Even a hot-spring wouldn’t be able to explain the willows keeping their leaves and the wildflowers blooming at this time of year. It probably has something to do with an ancient enchantment we think might have been placed on the pond, but without more information, I can’t really be certain.

“Anyway, Harry and I will take the North End of the pond, and I think it makes most sense for you and Luna and Parvati to take the South End. I don’t think it really matters who takes East or West though...”

“You alright with West, Daphne?” asked Jennifer. 

Daphne looked to both sides of the pond, seeing very little difference; there appeared to be plenty of bushes, grasses and wildflowers for cover.

“Er... yeah, I suppose,” she answered with a nervous giggle.

“Zat makes our decision much easier,” Fleur tittered, grinning at Dora.

“I’ll say,” Dora replied with a smirk, “Right then, I suppose we might as well dig into this picnic basket first. So where do we wanna eat?”

In the end Harry chose the North side of the pond when it appeared that nobody could make up their minds. Luna and Dora spread out a large red tartan blanket between a mossy statue of a Faun playing pipes and a statue of a Nymph by the water’s edge, and opened the picnic basket.

Inside was an array of cheeses and crackers, nuts, tangerines, mini-apple-pies, and mince pies. Harry was also pleased to see that Fleur and Dora had thought to pack several bottles of Merlot and Zinfandel, as he was still feeling a bit anxious about the whole thing. 

When everyone was finished and had departed to their own corners of the pond, Harry felt a bit more relaxed, but not overly full, and only pleasantly tipsy, much as he had following the Yule Ball. 

As Harry lay on the blanket and watched the wintry sun draw nearer to the tree-line and puffy white clouds drawing nearer, a sense of tranquility settled over him. It was hard for Harry to believe that less than forty eight hours ago he had felt like he’d never be at peace again. With a sigh of contentment Harry pulled his wooly jumper over his head and tugged off his jeans, preparing himself for the now much less daunting task of engaging in a Coven Ritual. 

After pulling her own jumper over her head, Hermione was a bit surprised, but not at all unpleased, when she turned around to find a pretty girl with windswept black hair and iridescent green eyes lying beside her.

“How come you changed into Harriet?” she asked, “Not that I mind of course.”

“Er... I just... er... I reckoned this was supposed to be a Coven Ritual,” said Harriet with a shy grin. 

“Well, I think it’s really what’s inside you that counts, Harriet,” said Hermione kindly. “Just be whoever you want to be. I’ll be happy either way.” 

Harriet grinned and pulled Hermione closer, taking it upon herself to relieve Hermione of her remaining pieces of clothing. They were both heatedly engaged when Harriet could have sworn she heard squeals and giggles coming from the far end of the pond.

But all distractions fell away when Harriet felt Hermione’s lips nuzzling her neck...

**~o0o~**

Hidden from view of the others by the leafy foliage, tall grasses and wildflowers, Ginny, Luna, and Parvati got underway. Luna wasted no time and was as naked as the day she had been born within seconds of arrival.

Parvati shrieked and giggled when Ginny and Luna began pulling all her clothes off. She blushed furiously when every inch of her was exposed to their eager eyes. While she and Luna had been “practicing,” they had remained more or less covered up with their hands reaching under t-shirts and into unzipped jeans. 

This was the first time that Parvati had ever been completely unclothed in the presence of others, and her embarrassment only seemed to fuel the heady tingles of arousal sweeping through her. Luna pulled Parvati closer for a wet kiss and Parvati trembled joyfully at Ginny’s touch. 

Nothing Parvati could remember had ever felt this good; being at the tender mercies of Ginny and Luna simultaneously made her fun with Luna the other day under Ginny’s watchful eye pale in comparison. A surge of giddiness finally tipped Parvati over the edge and she shuddered, squealing and bursting ecstatically.

For a moment, lost in the fog of ardour, gasping as she fell back onto the blanket, Parvati thought it was over. But only for a moment. Soon the three girls fell into a wanton scrum, squealing and giggling...

**~o0o~**

Jennifer beamed at Daphne and kissed her, stroking her beautiful blonde hair, still gasping as the euphoria ebbed. Daphne’s warmth next to her own filled her with joy.

She had been more than a bit nervous at first, afraid that letting Daphne reciprocate might trigger a nasty reaction. But nothing could have been further from the truth. All Jennifer felt was loved. Jennifer bit her lip as her senses returned, eager for more. 

Daphne felt a surge of elation when Jennifer leaned into the deepening kiss, glad that the other girl had finally overcome her anxiety. The blanket shifted under Daphne as she rolled onto her back with Jennifer atop her. Soon, the grasses beneath the pair of witches and the foliage around them rustled again as the passion stirred them once more...

**~o0o~**

In between one of their own bouts of passion, Fleur got up on her hands and knees and peeked through the grasses when they heard squeals and giggles echo across the pond, seeing nothing but trembling bushes and reeds as the gathering clouds above caught the last pink rays of the setting sun. Dora chortled as she came up from behind and leaned against her girlfriend.

“You were right Chérie,” Fleur tittered. “Just a leetle wine to loosen everyone up. Per’aps we get back to eet...?”

“Mmhmm... Sounds good,” Dora murmured in her ear, her hands reaching to pick up where they left off.

**~o0o~**

Giddy with exhilaration after bringing each other to completion several times, Hermione had convinced Harriet that it was time to be a boy again. Harriet needed very little persuading; grinning, she became he once more.

As their passions resumed, Harry and Hermione both felt it - a rushing sensation - an almost volcanic surge of euphoria - one final burst of explosive ardour as they merged - both of them gasping, crying out as they were carried away by the currents of bliss swirling around the entire pond.

The cheerful sounds of ecstatic communion reverberated and as the purple shadows of dusk fell over the glade, multicoloured bolts of lightning crackled and arced across the rippling pond from one corner to another. The willows and evergreens swayed, limbs dancing in the turbulent gusts of wind sweeping through the trees. 

Then it was over; silence and stillness reigned in the clearing with the pond as twilight passed into night.

**~o0o~**

Luna was the first to wake, finding herself in a tangle of limbs, inextricably entwined with Ginny and Parvati. Blinking, it took her a few moments to realise what she was seeing.

“We turned into fairies,” Luna squealed gleefully. “Ginny... Parvati... Wake up...”

Parvati and Ginny both stirred.

“Luna,” Ginny grumbled as she rubbed her eyes, “What’s going on?”

“Open your eyes silly! Look! We turned into fairies...” 

“Oh my God!” squeaked Ginny, “I’m glowing! Why am I glowing?”

**~o0o~**

Harry wasn’t sure if he was awake or asleep. It appeared to be night, and he felt as if he were floating on gossamer, drifting through a sea of luminous stars, nestled in Hermione’s warm embrace. An ethereal swell of breathy tinkling music filled his soul with a sublime, peaceful joy, and tingles of magic rippled across his skin.

It was only when Hermione stirred and gasped that Harry was certain that he was awake. Though the night sky above was dark and clouded over, the glade surrounding the pond was lit with the silvery luminescence of a thousand tiny glowing fairies cheerfully flitting to and fro. The surface of the pond shimmered in their starry light. 

The Potters held each other, gaping in wonderment at the beauty all around them, lost in the moment. The reverie was broken when a squeal of happiness caught their ears and Luna burst through the leafy foliage. Harry goggled for a moment before clapping a hand over his eyes and quickly yanking a bit of blanket over himself to cover his privates.

“Blimey Luna! Put on some clothes,” Harry moaned, his face blazing hotly. 

“We’re fairies,” Luna shrieked gleefully, jumping up and down. “Look, Harry! ... We’re fairies!”

Caught off-guard, and embarrassed herself, it took Hermione a moment to realise what was happening. She glanced at Luna, herself, and Harry, her eyes widening. The silvery luminous glow in the glade wasn’t just coming from the fairies, but from themselves - their own wet nude figures - as well. That was when Hermione also noticed it was raining.

Hermione tugged on her knickers and t-shirt and threw Harry’s t-shirt and boxers at him, and not a moment too soon. Ginny and Parvati had arrived behind Luna, gasping and out of breath as they had hurriedly dressed before chasing after Luna. Harry groaned and turned around as he quickly pulled on his boxers.

“Hermione,” Ginny squeaked anxiously, “I can’t be glowing! I can’t be... I can’t go back to Hogwarts like this!”

And mere seconds later, Fleur and Dora appeared, both glowing and looking equally perplexed. Harry counted his blessings that they at least had all taken the time to dress, and did his best not to look at Luna who was still bouncing on her toes and waving her arms as if hoping to take flight like the tiny fairies fluttering around them all.

“So... er... why are we glowing Hermione?” asked Harry.

“I... I really have no idea Harry,” Hermione was utterly flummoxed as she held up her glowing arm to the night sky. “Maybe it’s something to do with the ancient enchantment on the pond?” Hermione peered at Fleur, wondering if the part-Veela had any ideas.

Feeling a bit less embarrassed, Harry rubbed his chin pensively and glanced at the statues of the Faun and the Water-Nymph, wondering if they held any answers. Something about the Naiad in particular rang a bell.

“Hermione... er... These statues - there’s something about them. D’you think they might have something t’do with it?” he asked. 

Hermione considered things for a moment, and realised that Harry might be onto something.

“Well...” Hermione raised an eyebrow at her metamorphic husband and Dora and the Greek statues, half-smirked, and looked at their part-Siren friend Fleur again. “...Has anyone heard of the myth of Hermaphroditus?”

There was some more rustling of foliage indicating that Daphne and Jennifer had finally arrived. Daphne looked a bit frightened. For a moment the Coven peered around the illuminated glade and at each other’s glowing figures in bewilderment as the raindrops fell.

“So, what’s going on? Why are we glowing?” Jennifer asked, raising her eyebrows and smirking at Luna who was quivering with excitement.

“I think we turned into fairies,” said Luna eagerly. “Hermione was just going to tell us how...”

“Well... er... I wouldn’t say that _exactly,_ Luna,” Hermione interjected, her face reddening even through the silvery luminescence radiating from her skin. “We really shouldn’t jump to conclusions. I... I was just going to make some inferences and speculations based on the symbolism of some of the Greek myths associated with some of the statues surrounding the pond - they were obviously placed here when the manor was originally built in the 16th century...”

“That’s right,” said Jennifer. “When Daddy bought the place, that’s what the estate agent told him. The Countess who originally lived here had this whole place built here just because she liked the pond - she’s the one who had the statues put around it.”

“Right,” said Hermione as she geared up for lecture mode, “but the magic here feels much older - predating the Romans even by many hundreds of years. So I think the Countess might have been magical and sensed the enchantment at this site then - or she knew about it somehow...”

“If the Countess was a witch, maybe she was descended from one of the original inhabitants?” Harry proffered.

“That’s certainly a possibility,” agreed Hermione. “There’s really no way to be certain when we’re talking about thousands of years before her time even.”

“So, what were you going to tell us about the myth of Hermaphroditus?” asked Luna.

“Well, one of the versions of the myth of Hermaphroditus - who was the son of Aphrodite and Hermes - involves a Naiad...” Hermione began.

“Oh... you mean the son of Aphrodite, the Greek Sorceress who guards our corridor?” Daphne interrupted, glimmering with surprise.

“Possibly... that’s not very likely actually,” Hermione smiled kindly at Daphne as she tried to explain. “You have to understand, muggles built up a lot of myths and legends around ancient sorcerers, and many were made out to be gods and goddesses, or demons, and that sort of thing.

“And many of the stories associated with ancient witches and wizards are actually based on earlier stories from even older human societies, and prehistoric beliefs about nature spirits from before writing was invented. So it’s all a mixed up jumble really, and it would be very difficult to sort out which stories have a basis in fact, and which were just made up to explain natural phenomenon and human nature.

“In any case, in Ovid’s version of the myth, Hermaphroditus was born a boy and one day he encountered a Naiad - a Water Nymph - named Salmacis at her pond. She was smitten by him and tried to seduce him, and he was... er... a bit reticent,” Hermione flushed in embarrassment at telling a story which featured a lack of consent. 

“So she forcibly embraced and kissed him, and begged the gods to let them never be parted. The gods granted her wish, but in a way that she probably didn’t expect. Salmacis and Hermaphroditus were merged into one being, and so Hermaphroditus who had entered the pond as a boy, exited as a ‘creature of both sexes’... both boy and girl.

“The upshot is, that Hermaphroditus prayed to his parents to curse the pond to change any man who enters it into half man, half woman...”

“Well that’s not a very nice story,” squeaked Daphne, who started to look alarmed again.

“You’re right, it’s not,” said Hermione. “I was really just joking a bit because of the irony of our situation... the magic pond, the Greek symbolism, Harry being able to change from a boy into a girl... and Dora being able to change from a girl into a boy if she wanted to, for that matter”

“But you don’t have to worry Daphne... I didn’t curse the pond. I promise!” Harry grinned. “It’s not a bad thing - whatever happened to us is good... I just know it! But it is oddly coincidental...”

“And it’s actually just one of many myths about Hermaphroditus,” Hermione added quickly. “It’s a later version by Ovid of how Hermaphroditus came to have both boy and girl parts. The symbolism of Hermaphroditus him/herself had already long stood as a representation of marriage and love - the joining of both sexes... And that’s really the most important bit - the bit I was leading up to...”

Parvati gasped.

“That’s a bit like some of the stories in some of Mum and Dad’s books from India,” Parvati interjected, blushing furiously through her own silvery luminous glow. “I’m actually glad that most wizards don’t read muggle myths.... I don’t think I could have lived it down if everyone at Hogwarts knew that my name comes from a love goddess - Parvati, the consort of Shiva. And in some of the later myths, Parvati and Shiva merge to become Ardhanarishvara: ‘the Lord Who is Half-Woman.’”

“Exactly!” Hermione agreed, gleaming. “I think what these characters and stories embody is most important. They shouldn’t be taken too literally. It’s the _**mythic symbolism**_ which has the most bearing on the Magic. Aphrodite, Pan, Eros, Hermaphroditus, etc... their stories are symbols.

“Fertility, Sexuality, Marriage, Love - all Creative, life affirming acts and rituals... That’s what these particular mythological beings in these particular stories most represent. And I expect this site used to be one where groups of Celtic witches - very likely Covens - performed Sex Rituals not unlike what we experienced here this afternoon.

“In a sense... this is _**literally**_ Hallowed Ground! And I think we may have inadvertently triggered the Ancient Enchantment - reactivated it - by re-enacting some of the Sex Rituals which created it to begin with. 

“And I feel exactly like I did in that lab we found in the Department of Mysteries!” exclaimed Harry eagerly, feeling absolutely certain that Hermione was on the right track. “The one with that glowing ‘Orb of Love.’ D’you think there’s a connection Hermione?”

“I think there might be Harry,” Hermione nodded slowly. “That may be why the Fairies are attracted to this area - or perhaps the Fairies were here first and attracted the witches. In any case, Harry, it would seem to fit with what Dumbledore told us after the Third Task. He told us that he hadn’t detected magic like ours in modern Britain and Europe, except in the most ancient magical places for witchcraft, and also in some schools for witches in Asia.”

Fleur had been listening intently the entire time. Her breath quickened as she felt a thrill of understanding, a connection to her Veela heritage in a way she never had before.

“Oui, zat makes much sense,” said Fleur. “It was told to me by my grandmother, that Veela also have an affinity for such places - and that we are related to these little creatures flying around us now - zese Fairies... I do not know enough to know for certain, but at this moment, it feels true.

“When Veela dance and sing, when Veela experience joy, when Veela love - there is something about our spirit which makes us glow, like zis... But as only a small part Veela, I ‘ave never experienced it as strong as this before.

“Per’aps zat means Luna is onto something, not so much that we are all turning into Fairies, but rather, that as witches - as magical humans - our spirits are now of such a high frequency that we are in alignment with ze Fairies... We cannot help but glow as they do, as the Veela do...”

“I knew it!” Luna beamed.

Parvati’s eyes widened again and she quivered with excitement when another thought occurred to her.

“That actually fits some of the other bits that I’ve read of my Mum and Dad’s books if it’s true,” said Parvati. “If someone practices certain types of yoga long enough, they can activate something called the Kundalini Shakti. It’s the primal Female Energy which the Universe is supposedly created from. And when people produce a lot of it, their auras are supposed to be so bright that everyone can see them...”

“Shakti the goddess is also the personification of the Shakti energy from what I remember reading in my Auntie Joanne’s books on Hinduism,” Hermione mused. “In some schools of thought, _**she’s**_ worshipped as the Supreme Being - the top of the Hindu pantheon... and isn’t Parvati just another name for Shakti?”

Parvati’s silvery glow reddened again as she grimaced and nodded, glistening in the rain.

“Yes... but she’s got _loads_ of other names too,” Parvati squeaked. “It depends on which aspect she’s displaying at any given time.”

“So I guess in a way this more or less proves I really do have a female soul then?” said Harry. “But I still don’t quite get how that all squares with the hermaphrodite stuff, the... er... the androgyny... Even with a female soul and being able to turn into a girl, but primarily being a guy, how is it possible to activate this magic if it’s primarily generated by females? I mean, I turned back into a guy partway through while we were... er... _doing it_ a little while ago.”

Dora had been thinking about it the whole time, wondering exactly what Harry was wondering as she listened, and suddenly everything seemed to fall into place.

“Because we _**all**_ have male and female aspects to our natures,” Dora said, flourescing brightly as her eyes widened with a flare of gnosis. “Maybe we don’t all ‘ave the outer physical potential to be both, like you and me Harry, but we must all have male and female aspects of our spirits and our souls - even though one might be more dominant than the other.

“In our group, we might all be predominantly female on the inside, including you Harry... but ultimately we girls must’ve ‘ad to activate both aspects of our own energy to trigger the magic too - the male aspect inside of us as well. It must be necessary to ‘ave both parts activated to bring us to this level of magic. That’s what the myths about the bisexual and androgynous deities seem to be sayin’ anyway.

“I suppose when we girls ‘ave sex with each other, at any given time, someone is taking on the ‘male’ role, and the physical act was enough symbolically to activate the male aspects of our spirits. That probably goes both ways... guys ‘ave to be able to activate the female aspect in themselves to make it work - and yours is already active Harry.”

“Okay... yeah,” Harry nodded as he pensively chewed his lip. “Yeah, I think I get that.”

“Of course! That’s it Dora!” Hermione beamed. “Obviously _**some**_ men have historically achieved such high frequency levels of magic... They _**must**_ have. But it must be much more difficult because most men aren’t comfortable at all with their feminine aspects. They’re afraid of it and aren’t willing to let that side of themselves grow strong.

“Maybe not so many women are put off exploring both sides of their natures, and maybe _**that’s**_ why most of the successful Covens have been all witches. Perhaps in the ones with men that worked, they were willing to take on female sexual roles during the rituals,” Hermione concluded.

“Well, considering that loads of guys still seem to think that they’re superior to women, it’s not that much of a surprise really,” said Harry. “Most guys think being ‘girly’ is a bad thing.”

“Yes, but it’s actually not so bad in the wizard world as it still is in much of the muggle world really,” said Hermione. “For all of its problems, and the misogyny that still does exist to a degree, in some respects, gender relations are a bit more equal than they are in the muggle world.”

“It’s not perfect parity by any means,” Hermione continued. “I know that there’s vestiges of patriarchy left in the Wizengamot, what with mostly men being Heads of the Pureblood Houses - and openly gay wizards aren’t treated very well. But look at all the powerful witches throughout history, and gay and bisexual witches seem to be generally accepted.

“Even today there’s lots of witches with power - even though some of them are quite dreadful at the moment. It’s only the most retrograde families that want to reinstate things like forced marriage contracts and human slavery.”

“That’s a good point Hermione,” said Dora. “Though with a witch as ‘orrible as Umbridge running things right now - she seems dead set on bringing some of that sort of thing back ‘erself - at least when it comes to Purebloods lording it over ‘lesser’ witches and muggle women.”

“Yes... that’s very true!” Hermione said sadly. “But once she’s gone, and we’ve cleaned up the Ministry a bit, things will hopefully at least go back to the way things were before recently...”

“Yeah,” Harry interjected, looking hopeful, “...and then we can start trying to improve things in the Wizengamot - push for a more democratic structure so that it’s more representative of modern wizard society and other sentient magical beings.”

Hermione smiled at her dripping husband as the shimmering Coven fell into a contemplative silence, growing soggier as the rain grew heavier. Only the tinkling sound of the delighted fairies flittering around them, and the thrumming of the rain on the blades of grass and the surface of the pond could be heard.

“So how long is this glowing going to last, do you think?” Ginny asked, hoping that it would be gone by morning. 

“And what does all this mean for our magic?” asked Harry, hoping that it meant that the rest of the Coven would now be able to produce Patronuses like his and Hermione’s. 

“I really don’t know,” Hermione sighed. “We’ll just have to see in the morning, and start doing some more research.” 

Hermione was lost in thought all the way back to the manor, barely even noticing the heavy snowfall once they had passed the border of the enchantment.

**~o0o~**

Fortunately for Ginny, the silvery luminous glow of their auras had faded by the time the Coven awoke the following morning, and she departed through Phineas Nigellus’s picture after giving Luna a kiss goodbye.

Hermione still didn’t have a good answer when she woke for what the glowing meant for their magic in practical terms. They were in completely uncharted territory. Fleur was the only member of the Coven who had ever experienced the phenomenon at all, but never as strongly before, and only because she was part Veela. There was no knowing for certain what it meant for everyone else.

Hermione dug out the books which she had been reading to Harry before the Coven had gone on their mission and pored through them at the breakfast table after eating a few quick spoonfuls of porridge and a crumpet. Everyone else watched her intently while they ate, hoping for good news. Hermione frowned and bit her lip, finally looking up from the books. 

“Well, my best guess is that what happened at the pond was probably exactly what we needed to do to perform Coven spells at their full potential. If so, then that means the rest of you _**should**_ be able to do Patronuses like me and Harry now - at least when we’re conjuring them all together in ‘Cult-Mode’...”

“Excellent!” said Harry, grinning from ear to ear. As far as he was concerned, that made putting up with the embarrassment of having sex with Hermione in the near vicinity of the others worthwhile.

“...but I _**still**_ don’t really know what the glowing has to do with it, other than what Fleur surmised last night,” Hermione sighed. “There’s really nothing in these books about auras... which seems a bit odd. I suppose I’ll just have to wait until I get a chance to see if the library at Hogwarts has anything about them.”

“I don’t know if they’ll be any help, but there are some books about auras in my Mum and Dad’s library,” Jennifer suggested eagerly, her eyebrows raised.

That got everyone moving. In no time flat they were all cleaned up and rummaging through the library, pulling books from the shelves looking for the ones about auras. 

“Cor... look at all these books of magic!” Dora exclaimed.

“Yeah... those were mostly my father’s - he was a bit New Agey,” Jennifer explained. “Dad was more into that sort of thing than Mum - she was into it a bit for fun, but she tended to be more skeptical.”

“I don’t understand,” Daphne muttered. “I thought muggles didn’t know anything about magic.”

“Well loads of this is probably rubbish,” said Harry as he flipped through a book which reminded him uncomfortably of the useless books he’d had to purchase for Divination. “Some muggles make up a lot of stuff and believe it’s real. I suppose some of them even think they really are magical...”

“Hmmm...” Hermione’s brows furrowed in thought as she leafed through a book about Tantric Yoga after skimming through several books of Occultism and Neopaganism.

Recognising the tone of Hermione’s “Hmmm,” Harry raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Really Hermione?”

“Well... I’m not so sure what to think anymore Harry. Here... look at these pictures of Chakras in this Tantric Yoga book - what do they remind you of?”

“Hunh... that’s interesting! They look a bit like some of the pictures in the addendum at the end of _The Wizarding Edition of the Tai Chi Classics_.”

“Yes... they do Harry,” Hermione agreed. “They’re pictures of the major energy centres of the human form - the Chinese system is just more detailed and depicts all of the minor points and the meridians as well. 

“If that were all there was to it, I wouldn’t think anything of it, because we already know that all humans have some limited ability to control their own magical energy fields. But what is indicated in the text as possible for anyone to achieve - regardless of genetic predisposition - appears to go beyond what _**ought**_ to be possible.

“Now, of course that _could_ just be wishful thinking on the part of the muggles who wrote these books. But the level of detail in the instructions is highly suggestive that a lot of trial and error went into it, which in turn implies that this is more than just someone’s fantasy...” 

Hermione pointed to several of the other books on the table. “...And at least one of those books of Muggle Occultism seems to be extremely accurate regarding the way magic works - too accurate to be coincidence or simple guesswork. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if some of the spells in it would actually work for someone with magical abilities.”

“But wouldn’t the Ministry and the International Confederation of Wizards try and keep books about real magic out of muggle hands?” Daphne asked in bewilderment.

“Per’aps zey are not so concerned about books written by muggles, because muggles have no magical ability?” Fleur mused.

A little shiver of excitement ran up Harry’s spine as something clicked in his brain and he shared a look with Hermione, his eyes wide. The rest of the Coven held their breath, sensing that the Potters were on the verge of an illuminating revelation.

“Hermione, if muggles really were totally non-magical then shouldn’t it be impossible for any of them to learn how to do some of the amazing things that some of them manage to do - even after decades of practice? ...like muggle Shaolin Monks...”

“...and muggle Hindu Yogis, and muggle Tibetan Lamas... among others. One would think so Harry.” Hermione bit her lip as her breath began to quicken.

“Before I found out I was a witch, I didn’t really believe in any of those sorts of things. Like Mum and Dad, I thought it was all explainable through standard scientific methods or otherwise fraudulent. I was very confused and upset when unusual things would happen around me until the day I got my Hogwarts letter.

“And I think you’re partially correct Fleur,” Hermione continued. “But for some muggles to write such accurate books about magic, they’d have to have some sort of experience with it.

“To answer your question Daphne, it’s probably almost impossible for wizards to control all of the information about magic because so much of it is tied into Muggle religions, myths, and legends - and most wizard governments probably don’t even bother to try because they know that a lot of it is made-up... and I expect they think that the bits that are real don’t matter because they believe that Muggles have no magical abilities at all...”

“But what if they _**do?”**_ Harry interjected eagerly. “What if _**all**_ humans have magical genes Hermione...?”

“Exactly Harry! They _**might**_ be in everyone - but Recessive in most people - like they were in Jennifer - just waiting to be activated!” Hermione exclaimed, quivering excitedly. “But for the vast majority of humans it never happens because it takes decades of diligent practice to activate them... and very few people are able or willing to actually put in the effort...”

“Hermione, maybe THAT’S why the Pureblood Supremacists in the Ministry are so worried and are claiming that Dumbledore is training Muggles how to be wizards...” Harry postulated. “We all know it’s rubbish of course - that they’re just making it up about Dumbledore - but what if the Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries really _**are**_ worried that he actually _**might**_ work out how to turn muggles into wizards?”

“That... that could be why they’re bein’ so harsh and killing off muggleborns!” Dora gasped.

“Yeah...” Harry agreed. “Maybe it’s not for the same reason they used to hate muggles at all. Maybe _**now**_ Purebloods - at least the ones in the Department of Mysteries - hate muggles and muggleborn wizards because they’re afraid they won’t be so Superior and Special as more and more wizards are born to muggle families... The Purebloods that are smart know that their days of lording it over everyone are numbered and they’re trying to hang onto power at any cost...”

“Does... does that mean that one day in the future all humans might be born magical then?” asked Daphne.

Eyes as wide as saucers, Hermione slowly nodded. Luna grinned, as if she had suspected it all along.

“It might...” Hermione replied. “If what we’re inferring is true, then there are muggles right now who have turned themselves into wizards of a sort - who have somehow activated their magical genes and learned to perform some rudimentary or limited magical techniques - but who aren’t generally believed to be magical by most other muggles, or by born wizards...”

“So wizards really _**aren’t**_ any more inherently magical than muggles,” said Harry confidently. “It’s just that we were born with more natural ability to control the magic than other people do because our genes are activated.”

“Y...yes, that’s a bit oversimplified Harry. Obviously there’s a bit more to it, given the long wizarding family lines. But I’m really thinking that’s basically the right of it in a nutshell,” Hermione beamed.

**~o0o~**

The next few days leading up to New Year’s Eve passed happily and lazily for the Potters and their friends. Whatever dark thoughts and feelings still lurking in the shadows of their souls since their encounter with the Inferi and the raid on the Ministry’s Concentration Camp had been largely swept away by the Coven Ritual.

To his great surprise, Harry was able to actually enjoy just laying about reading and watching television without feeling agitated or restless. It felt good to just let himself go for once. And of course having Hermione to cuddle didn’t hurt. 

But of course once New Year’s Eve day arrived, the anticipation began to build as the evening drew nearer. Even lounging on the sofa with Hermione snuggled under one arm, a mug of hot cocoa in one hand, and Crookshanks sprawled across their laps wasn’t enough to distract Harry from the fact that Dumbledore would soon be calling.

Finally, shortly before six pm, Harry was staring into Dumbledore’s clear blue eyes in the mirror, eagerly awaiting Dumbledore’s tidings. Dumbledore seemed pleased to see Harry’s enthusiasm.

“Well, I hope the timing isn’t too inconvenient,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling, “I know that many enjoy a good libation on New Year’s Eve. But I am hoping that you will all be able to join us at Narcissa Black’s estate tomorrow morning at 7 am.”

“Of course we can Professor Dumbledore!” Harry responded excitedly. Hermione and the others nodded as they were all listening with bated breath. “So, are we going to...”

“...Retake Hogwarts?” Dumbledore interjected, his eyes twinkling. “Yes indeed! And I have you and Mrs Potter to thank for inspiring the plan of attack. With the element of surprise, we should hopefully be able to minimise casualties on all sides...”

“We’re going to use the pictures then?”

“Indeed!” replied Dumbledore. “There are a number of other paintings here at Madam Black’s which are copies of those at Hogwarts, so we shall be able to move several teams into the castle all at once. Now, I must be going as I have a pressing engagement. However, you may wish to turn on your Wiz-Vision...”

**~o0o~**

“Some more Wine, Percy?”

“Oh... er... Yes please, Dolores.” Percy cheerfully held out his goblet as his mentor refilled it. 

Percy was feeling much better about things after deciding that he and Penelope really didn’t belong together after all. Dolores was right; there were many other lovely young Pureblood women, and a man of his station - the youngest Senior Undersecretary in history - should have no problem ensnaring one for himself. 

Taking a sip from his freshly filled goblet, Percy returned his attention to the Wiz-Vision screen for the final news broadcast of the year.

The splendidly coiffed William O’Hannity was regaling his cohost Endora with his well considered opinion on the news of the day when suddenly the screen went snowy. For a moment it went black altogether. Percy and Dolores regarded the Wiz-Vision with puzzlement as the image returned.

Wine sprayed from their mouths and their eyes bulged in shock; the Minister and her deputy would have recognised those clear blue eyes and that long silvery beard anywhere. They both gaped in horror as the former Headmaster of Hogwarts announced what they were just about to witness.

**~o0o~**

Having concluded his very important mirror-call to Harry Potter in private, Albus Dumbledore took a seat in the elegant armchair in Monsieur Delacour’s sitting room with Henri Delacour, his wife Appoline, Olympe Maxime, and the three others who had been invited.

Albus regarded the three most important members of the ICW Committee for the Investigation of Statutory Violations with twinkling eyes as they took their own seats. Henri poured everyone glasses of wine from his own private reserve.

“Vell, Dumbledore... I hope you haff much more for us to go on zis time,” snapped Angelika Machschnell, the stern German witch who headed the ICW’s investigatory committee.

“And you must remember Albus, there is very little we can do regarding internal blood-status policies unless they threaten to spill over to the International Stage,” the Greek wizard from the committee added with an oily tone.

“Ah, indeed I do Pericles,” Dumbledore warmly replied. “I may be getting on in my years, but it has not been so long since I was Supreme Mugwump after all...”

“Though, if certain rumours prove to be true, surely there must be something that we at the ICW can do to help Britain!” interjected the Nigerian witch, narrowing her eyes at the other two committee members.

“Oui! Olubunmi speaks wiz compassion and wisdom Monsieur Papadopoulos,” said Madame Maxime haughtily. “If ze British Ministry ees employing the methods of Grindelwald and Voldemort, eet is imperative zat those with a powerful voice speak up to convince the rest of the Wizengamot to act.

“You see what is happening around ze world - Blood-Extremists everywhere are emboldened! If Britain falls, ozzers take notice and then where are we?...” Olympe continued.

“Thank you Olympe, Olubunmi,” Dumbledore interjected pointedly. “I am certain that Pericles and Angelika will make the most appropriate decision. I do not expect the ICW to join a potential civil war on one side or another. All I ask for the time-being is that the current laws against collusion with muggle heads of state, and against muggle oppression be upheld...”

Henri Delacour cleared his throat and took a swig of his wine, thinking it was probably best to not mention that he and Olympe had already mobilised a number of French forces to assist Dumbledore’s people. It wasn’t illegal for private alliances across international borders, but some in the ICW might frown on it nonetheless. Henri swallowed the mouthful of wine and listened to Albus’s mellifluous voice as the true Headmaster of Hogwarts continued.

“...Though I daresay that in the future, it is my hope that what you are about to witness will cause the ICW to revisit the International Secrecy Statutes. It is my contention that the strictures are far too narrow.

“As it stands, the Statutes allow for some interaction between wizards and muggles at only the Highest Level of State, with only a _**single**_ point of contact between governments - Ministers and Presidents of Magic with muggle Presidents and Prime Ministers. Thus leaving the unwitting muggle public at large at the mercy of those in power with no recourse when the most virulent and mendacious members of the ruling classes of both societies have assumed control.

“In my view, this is a recipe for political disaster for the muggle world, to say nothing of our own. In any case, please bear with me - the broadcast is about to begin...”

“Hmmmph... I suppose you might have something there Albus,” muttered Pericles, eyeing the Wiz-Vision in distaste.

“Indeed!” Dumbledore chuckled. “I did also bring all the relevant evidence with me to turn over to the committee - the following broadcast is largely for the British wizarding public, but it is a good overview of my case against the Minister...”

Tuned to the British Wiz-Vision feed as it was, Henri Delacour’s screen was currently displaying the WVN evening news. The image and sound broke up with a burst of distortion and faded to black, before returning with the pre-recorded video the Order had made for the pirated broadcast.

Taking a sip from his own wine-glass, Albus Dumbledore noted the reactions of the ICW committee members with great interest. Olubunmi’s tears and stifled sobs were expected - Albus had always appreciated her compassion and humanity. But the horrified expression on Angelika’s face when she saw the footage of the corpses in the Death Chamber and the prisoners - including the child - gave him a grim sense of satisfaction. Pericles was harder to read, a twitching muscle on his temple the only evidence of emotion. 

All three of the committee members were rapt with attention when the Dumbledore on the Wiz Vision screen presented the evidence from the files liberated during both the rescue of Arthur Weasley, and the raid on the Ministry Death Camp. 

The pre-recorded Dumbledore described the contents: lists of enemies, supporters and recruits, details of operations, plans for the “detention facilities,” lists of the detained and the killed, among many other details. Dumbledore pointed to the file which confirmed that the entire story of Dick Turpentine and wand-stealing muggleborn rebels was an utter fabrication concocted by the Minister and the Unspeakable Office.

He explained the Inferi, and Bellatrix Lestrange’s role in their creation under Ministry auspices, showing the recovered implements of torture and necromancy on-screen, and replaying the footage which revealed the tridecagram on the floor of the Death Chamber next to the stacks of corpses. 

Dumbledore punctuated the information with the footage depicting Thorfinn Rowle’s presence at the compound as evidence confirming that the Minister had recruited those of Voldemort’s Death Eaters who had been interned in Azkaban for their previous crimes.

Finally, the Dumbledore on the Wiz Vision was shown interviewing several of the rescued prisoners, muggleborn wizards and muggles, including the MI5 analyst and her daughter, confirming the collusion between Minister Umbridge and the muggle Prime Minister.

When it was over, one could have heard a pin drop in Henri Delacour’s sitting room, and Albus Dumbledore was nearly certain that he finally had the ICW Committee in his corner. Dame Machschnell was a hard-nosed character and a stickler for rules, but Dumbledore’s hope for her sense of honour and human decency appeared to have been rewarded.

“Vell Albus, zis is _**quite**_ shocking,” said the Head of the Committee. “Vhen ze evidence you haff brought confirms your allegations, I can assure you zat our committee shall begin an immediate investigation...”

“Angelika will have my complete support of course,” Olubunmi interjected, her nostrils flaring angrily as she dabbed at her tears.

“If the rest of your evidence substantiates these... images... Albus, I _suppose_ I can offer my own recommendation in support of an investigation,” Pericles added silkily.

Angelika Machschnell rolled her eyes at the Greek committee member; she was the head of the committee after all, and all she needed was Olubunmi's second to carry the motion to investigate.

“I cannot promise zat the vote of ze entire ICW vill go your way of course Albus, but vot you haff presented is very damning and quite convincing!” said Angelika firmly. “My committee can certainly Censure your Minister Umbridge, and introduce a motion to ze Wizengamot to Sanction her administration, and to issue an International Warrant for her arrest, should she dare to step on foreign soil...”

**~o0o~**

Before he had completed the mirror-call with Harry, Dumbledore had cautioned him that some of the footage filmed during the raid on the Ministry’s Death Camp would be shown during the broadcast over the hacked Wiz-Vision feed, though edited to keep their identities concealed.

Forewarned, the Coven had braced themselves for the ugly images that they knew were coming.

It had been hard to relive the sickening scenes again, but they had managed it, feeling an odd mix of relief and sadness that the rest of the wizard world would finally see what the Ministry was really up to. And with the anticipation of what the New Year would bring, sleep seemed a distant possibility that night, but one by one, slumber gradually took them all.

The second to last person to fall asleep was Harry, still anxiously contemplating the plan to retake Hogwarts, hoping that it wouldn’t turn into a bloodbath - hoping that what they found there wouldn’t drive him to lose control of himself. When Hermione felt her husband’s tension melt in her embrace she finally relaxed enough to let oblivion take her.

**~o0o~**

“Too bloody early - it’s New Year’s! Leave me alone...” Ron grumbled as someone tapped his cheek. The tapper ignored Ron’s complaints and gently patted his cheek again.

“Come on Ron; wake up! You’ve been asleep for long enough... or are you just going to sleep your whole life away then?”

The voice sounded familiar, but it was one which Ron hadn’t heard in quite some time. It must be a dream... or a nightmare! Blearily Ron opened his eyes as his senses jangled. His surroundings were unfamiliar and pink - pink bedding, pink curtains, pink carpet, pink wallpaper - but the countenance which peered at him was a face he knew all too well and Ron’s trepidation turned into alarm.

“Bloody Hell!” Ron gasped, feeling naked when he realised that he was all alone and that he didn’t have his wand. “Percy! Where am I? What’s going on?”

“It’s alright Ron - you’re safe!” said Percy in a soothing tone. “Nobody’s going to hurt you...”

 _ **“Like hell!**_ I know what you did to Dad,” snarled Ron, beginning to panic. “What happened to you Perce...?”

“Believe me Ron, I hated that I had to do that! But our father has been in cahoots with Dumbledore for donkey’s years. He’s a traitor Ron...”

 **“Rubbish!”** shouted Ron. “You’re completely mental...”

“Ron... Please, calm down! Hear me out!” Percy pleaded, and Ron quieted.

“I promise - I’m not going to hurt you,” continued Percy. “I know you’re Potter’s best friend, but I’m also aware that you don’t really know who he truly is... or who Dumbledore really is...”

“What are you on about Percy? I’m not...” Ron trailed off, his heart pounding. It suddenly struck him that it might not be in his best interests to tell Percy that he hadn’t been Harry’s best mate since the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. “You... you don’t seriously expect me to believe all that barmy stuff about Harry and Dumbledore being violent criminals do you...?”

“Yes... yes I do Ron! You know what they’re capable of - what happened to the Malfoys...”

“The Malfoys? You must be joking! They had it coming... and... and Ginny told me what really happened to Draco Malfoy! I’m surprised you haven’t tried to arrest her too!” said Ron angrily. “Since when did you turn into a Slytherin, Perce?”

Despite everything that he knew about Percy, Ron could hardly believe what he was hearing.

Percy had always been a bit of pompous git - a bossy know-it-all who thought he was better than everyone else - and Ron had always known that his brother was exceedingly ambitious. But Ron had never imagined that Percy would ever go so far, and seeing his older brother peering at him with concern, it was still hard for Ron to accept that he had actually come to believe all that Pureblood rubbish.

“Ron... please!” Percy rolled his eyes, trying to control his temper. He needed Ron. It wouldn't do to antagonise him, but it was high time that Ron grew up. “It’s long past time to put aside House prejudices...” Percy continued, “for the sake of the wizard world. If we want to put an end to all of this strife - if you want to save your friends - we need to work together...”

“Whaddya mean, ‘work together’...?” Ron asked suspiciously.

“We need to stop the violence before it gets worse Ron - before it tears the wizard world apart. A lot of people still look up to Harry Potter. And as long as Potter follows Dumbledore down the path of madness and chaos, people will continue to blindly follow behind him...”

 _ **“You**_ can help bring the violence to an end Ron,” Percy continued earnestly. “As his friend, you might be able to get through to Potter like no others can. If you help us end this Ron, you’ll be a hero! Go on the Wiz-Vision - tell Potter to turn himself in - and I promise, I’ll do everything I can to see that Potter is treated fairly...”

 _ **“Never!**_ You’re barking if you think...”

“How many more must die Ron? What will it take to convince you? Please... think about it!”

Percy peered at Ron, considering other approaches. Following Dumbledore’s pirated broadcast, the Minister and her Senior Undersecretary knew that they would have to move fast to counter his spin on the revelation of the death and destruction at the Ministry’s detention facility, before people had a chance to give Dumbledore’s warped perspective and lies any credence.

It was imperative for the wizard world to see that Dumbledore and his protege would fabricate any story to justify their attacks on the Ministry, and that what the Ministry was doing was necessary for the preservation of wizarding society as a whole. If they could see that even Potter’s best friends had turned against him...

“Ron, haven’t you ever wondered why we were so poor? Why Dad never got ahead at the Ministry? Didn’t you ever stop to think about why other wizard families always looked down on us and mocked our name? ...”

Ron scowled at Percy.


	66. White Knights take Castle, Black Knight takes Pawn

When Harry finally came to rest he was sprawled face first in a powdery white snowdrift. He clambered to his feet, sputtering and shivering, thinking he liked traveling by Portkey about as much as he liked traveling by Floo - which is to say, not at all. 

Not looking in any better shape, Hermione quickly cast a Warming Charm on the pair of them, and the rest of their friends followed suit, casting warming charms on each other.

“Brrrr...” said Harry, his breath clouding in the frosty air. “Thanks Hermione! Loads better... But I still wish Madam Black had a copy of Phineas Nigellus’s portrait. I don’t get it... You’d think Black Manor would have his portrait.” Harry glanced at Dora, but she simply shrugged.

“Dunno Harry... You’d ‘ave to ask Sirius or my aunt.”

Harry sighed and put that at the top of his questions-to-ask-Sirius list. He didn’t have to wait long because Sirius was traipsing through the snow towards him from the manor.

“What’s taking you lot so long?” Sirius asked, a big grin on his face. 

“I was just wondering why Madam Black’s manor doesn’t have a portrait of Phineas Nigellus?” Hermione grumbled, much to Harry’s delight.

“Ah, well, that _**is**_ an interesting story Hermione,” chortled Sirius. “One of the things Uncle Cygnus and my dear sainted Mum differed on was Phineas Nigellus... Their rows at Christmas were the stuff of Legend! 

“Cygnus was a real Statute of Secrecy Hardliner... He hated Phineas Nigellus’s stance that Purebloods should openly rule over muggles. Mum was always more ‘open-minded’ in that regard...” Sirius couldn’t help chuckling again at the idea of his mother being open-minded about anything. 

“Anyway, I was just teasing. The real reason I’m out here freezing my arse off is because I just thought I should give Dora a heads up... We found your mum and dad! ... Remus and I finally sniffed out where they were hiding.”

Dora’s face briefly lit up and her hair shone like the lights on a Christmas Tree, flashing all colours of the rainbow, before she groaned, remembering the reason why she had been avoiding her parents since Harry and Hermione’s trial.

Everyone followed Sirius up to the manor, Dora lagging back and hoping to just sort of blend into the background. Soon everyone was inside, hanging up their coats and enjoying the warmth of Black Manor. There were a lot of familiar faces milling around as everyone gathered in preparation for retaking Hogwarts.

Harry and Hermione both grinned when they spotted Fred and George chatting with Dean Thomas in Narcissa Black’s sitting room.

“Hey Dean, good to see you again! ... And I’m glad to see that Percy didn’t get his hands on you two,” said Harry, catching the Twins' attention.

“There he is... the man of the hour,” Dean said with a grin. He looked much better; more rested and not as thin as he had when Harry and Hermione had last seen him.

“Heh!” Fred snorted, smirking, “We’ve had a lifetime of experience evading Percy the Prat and keeping his pointy nose out of our business.”

“We saw your handiwork on the Wiz-Vision - that was bloody brilliant Harry!” exclaimed George. “And thanks for rescuing Dad...”

“When this is all over, you’ll be the Boy-Who-Made-the-Ministry-Look-Like-Amateurs,” Fred chuckled.

“It wasn’t just me,” Harry said quickly, his face reddening. “I couldn’t’ve done it without Hermione and the others... They were all brilliant!”

“How’s your mum doing?” Hermione asked, coming to Harry’s rescue.

“Oh, Mum’s alright,” Fred replied, “Dumbledore’s put up all sorts of protection charms at the Burrow. But she’s still having kittens about what a bloody sod Percy turned out to be...”

“Cruciating Dad was the final straw for her,” George added, scowling. “She went ballistic about the business of Percy putting you on trial with Harry of course, but Mum still held out a bit of hope that Perce would eventually come to his senses until he tried to arrest Dumbledore and locked up Dad...”

“...and when she found out that Percy tortured Dad after you and Harry rescued him - not to mention finding out how much he really believes all that pureblood rubbish now - Mum finally wrote him off as a bad egg,” Fred continued as his own face fell. “But she’s still heartbroken about it,” he concluded quietly.

“Oh no!” Dora groaned, looking distracted.

“Hunh? ... What’s wrong?” asked Harry as everyone turned to see what Dora was staring at.

“My parents!” moaned Dora.

Harry and Hermione both stiffened in recognition of one of the figures across the room near the entrance. It took them both a moment to recover when they realised who it must be.

“Is... is that your mum?” asked Harry.

“Yeah...” said Dora, “Scary ‘ow much she looks like my Aunt Bellatrix innit?”

“Just a bit!” Harry agreed, suddenly feeling extremely awkward for having physically transformed every inch of his anatomy into more or a less a replica (having had to make a best guess at what Bellatrix looked like under her clothes in order to wear her clothes - much to his great distaste) of the woman coming towards them.

“There you are dear,” beamed the witch who-unnervingly-looked-like-Bellatrix-Lestrange as she swept Dora into her arms.

“Hi Mum,” said Dora as she stood stiffly in her mother’s embrace, looking torn between happiness and guilt as she awkwardly returned her mother’s hug. “I’m glad you and dad are both safe. I’ve been worried silly about you both...”

“We might not’ve been if it weren’t for Sirius and Remus,” said Dora’s father, smiling.as Dora tearily flung her arms around him “They sniffed out me and your mum in hiding - rather literally actually,” he acknowledged wryly. “They thought I’d be safer here, so your Aunt Narcissa invited us both to stay.”

“I’m so sorry Dad - I ‘aven’t talked to you and Mum in so long...” Dora sniffled, looking very ashamed of herself. “I... I just didn’t know ’ow to tell you and Mum that I’d q...quit bein’ an Auror. And... and by the time the Minister started roundin’ up muggleborns I was... I was... ”

“...You were helping Harry Potter and tryin’ to stay undercover!” said Dora’s father. “It’s alright Dora love! Me and your mum - d’you really think we’d be fussed about that at a time like this? Narcissa told us a lttle bit about what you’ve been up to for the Order - and Sirius mentioned briefly that you helped raid that concentration camp that Dumbledore was showin’ on the wizard telly last night... We couldn’t be prouder of you sweetie...”

At that moment Dumbledore arrived in the hallway, looking very grave.

“I know you’ve got to go - that you’ve got another mission right now...” Dora’s father told her quickly, trying to keep the worry out of his face, “Just know that your mum and me - we both love you very much...” 

“Your father’s right dear,” Dora’s mother interjected, giving her daughter another hug and a kiss. “Of course we love you... We’ll always love you no matter what! And I couldn’t be happier that you jumped ship from the Ministry when you did.... Can you imagine how worried sick I’d be if you were still on the Inside? Now let’s not have any more of this silliness.”

“Thanks Mum,” Dora let out a huge sigh of relief as a few tears trickled down her cheek, squeezing her mother as tightly as she could. “That makes me feel loads better. I’ll catch up with you again later then - when this bit’s all over...”

“Bye Love...Try an’ stay safe,” said Dora’s father. “And yeah, when it’s all over, we can talk... and you can introduce us to Harry Potter and his wife,” he concluded with a smile and a little wink.

Dora bit her lip and nodded, flushing slightly.

“See you later then Dad! I love you... Love you too Mum!” She swallowed nervously and smiled, giving her father and mother a kiss on the cheek before hurriedly following Dumbledore into the sitting room where most of the Order’s assault team and the Coven were now gathered.

For a moment, feeling slightly perplexed, Ted Tonks watched his daughter scurry away. He knew there was something else that she still wasn’t telling him - which was odd as they had always been very close. Ted sighed and glanced at his wife, Andromeda. 

Andromeda arched one eyebrow and regarded her husband cannily. “Nymphadora would tell us if she could, dear. She has a job to do - even if it isn’t precisely the paying career path we’d hoped for - and secrets come with the territory in her line of work.”

“Er... yeah! S’pose so,” Ted muttered. “Somethin’ about her though. Seemed like there was somethin’ a bit more to it...”

**~o0o~**

Seeing the faces of the Potters and their friends among those gathered for the liberation of Hogwarts, Dumbledore sighed.

“I am afraid that I bear ill tidings,” the headmaster grimly began. “We must move swiftly, Minerva has just informed me that Neville Longbottom and Ronald Weasley were not to be found in their dormitory this morning. She believes that the Carrows took them sometime during the night and may be holding them in the dungeons...”

Harry felt his blood run cold and Hermione gave a little squeak of distress as the rest of the Coven drew a collective gasp, glancing at them both. Fred and George paled. Harry swallowed guiltily, wondering if Neville and Ron had been targeted in retaliation because of his destruction of the Ministry’s death camp.

“It wasn’t your fault Harry,” said Hermione perceptively. “And there really isn’t any way that they could know it was us specifically who had attacked the facility. It could’ve been anyone - and probably Dumbledore - as far as they know. None of the footage shown on the Wiz-Vision had us in it...”

“I suppose,” Harry muttered, not entirely convinced, “but that probably didn’t stop the Minister or Percy just assuming I was behind it somehow. Why else would they pick on my friends?”

“Because they know that you would do anything to save them Harry,” said Luna. “They might be hoping to convince you to go against Dumbledore and turn yourself in.”

“Whatever ze reason, it matter’s not,” Fleur asserted. “The Minister is responsible for this evil, not you, ‘Arry.”

“Quite true, Miss Delacour,” Dumbledore agreed. “In any case, locating and rescuing Longbottom and Weasley shall be a top priority when we reach Hogwarts. Most of the students ought to be in the Great Hall for breakfast by now - it is time...”

**~o0o~**

Minerva McGonagall entered the Great Hall feeling an odd mixture of anxiety and relief. She nodded at Flitwick who was sitting up at the staff table with several of the other professors and Amycus Carrow.

Before the Unspeakables guarding the entrance to the Great Hall knew what was happening, the oak doors slammed shut with a wave of Professor McGonagall’s wand, also startling a number of students. The shocked Unspeakables inside the entryway aimed their own wands at her. Minerva dropped one of them with a strong stunning spell, only barely dodging out of the way of the other Unspeakable’s stunner as some students began to scream.

“Bloody Hell! What’s all this then?” shouted the Inquisitor pretending to be a headmaster.

“A coup,” Flitwick said simply with a grin as a bolt of red magic shot from the end of his wand. His stunning spell was so powerful that Amycus Carrow hurtled across the Hall and slammed into a wall with a thud before collapsing to the floor, unconscious.

McGonagall just managed to avoid being hit with a white-hot spell which grazed her cheek. The Unspeakable began to aim another spell, but a student had recovered from their initial surprise and come to Professor McGonagall’s rescue. A stunning spell from the Hufflepuff table caught the Unspeakable in the side of his head and he tumbled to the floor, out like a light.

“Thank you Mr Diggory,” Professor McGonagall gasped, still out of breath. “Fifty points to Hufflepuff.”

The massive oak doors to the Great Hall started to shake with a noisy banging. The frightened pupils began clamouring Professor McGonagall for answers, especially Ginny Weasley who was beside herself with worry.

“What’s going on Professor?” yelled a Ravenclaw.

“Professor McGonagall, where’re Neville and Ron...?” Ginny shouted.

“Shouldn’t we open the door?” squeaked a terrified First Year.

Finally catching her breath, Professor McGonagall raised her hands for quiet as Flitwick cast a silencing charm on the doors.

“Everyone, please keep calm,” McGonagall said loudly. “Most of you caught the beginning of the broadcast on the Wiz-Vision before it was turned off by the Carrows last night, and must have some inkling that the Ministry has committed grave crimes against humanity. Given the public exposure of the Minister’s lies, Professor Dumbledore is taking the opportunity to return to Hogwarts and we are all to remain here safely while he and his compatriots deal with the rest of the Unspeakables.”

“And Miss Weasley,” McGonagall continued, “I am sorry, but we cannot be certain what has become of Longbottom and your brother until the castle has been retaken. Please try to be patient. This should all be over soon...”

**~o0o~**

Harry’s heart thumped loudly as he and Hermione cautiously led the Coven out of the portrait of Giordano Bruno (a wizard who was prone to telling everyone who walked by his portrait that he really hadn’t been burned at the stake, and that he was as capable of performing a Flame Freezing Charm as anyone) on the third floor, through the stone corridors of the castle and down the marble stairs.

Several Unspeakables already lay unconscious by the entrance to the Great Hall and were being shackled by a few Order members that Harry and the others weren’t well acquainted with. The occasional sounds of spell-fire could be heard echoing through the halls from other wings of the castle. 

Harry and Dora silently nodded in acknowledgment of the Order members securing the Entry-Hall and continued on their way towards the dungeons. By all appearances the Potters and their friends were the first team to reach the dungeons. 

Carefully, they entered the dungeons, covering each other as they kept an eye out for more Unspeakables. Recalling where some of the ancient castle’s cells were located, Dora led them forward, heading down the passage leading to the Potions classroom. 

It seemed odd to Harry, the eerie silence, and he had to remind himself that most people would be in the Great Hall for breakfast. The Coven’s main concern was dealing with any Unspeakables they came across while trying to locate Ron and Neville. 

Just as Harry was thinking it was too quiet, Fleur shoved him against the wall and a red bolt of magic shot past their heads, sparking when it ricocheted from a column.

“Down... everyone take cover,” Harry yelled. 

Nobody needed to be told twice. Everyone ducked into alcoves or behind pillars and began returning fire. Hoping that he could keep his anger in check, Harry was surprised that none of the Unspeakables were using killing spells, but pleased. 

Harry signaled to Hermione, Dora, and Fleur. Together, as a Coven spell, they performed a Protego Maxima Charm and advanced down the hallway while Luna, Daphne, Parvati, and Jennifer covered them. The Unspeakables’ spells bounced right off the powerful shield.

Seeing some more cover just up ahead, Harry took the opportunity. At his signal, the shield spell was dropped and Luna, Daphne, Parvati and Jennifer returned fire again, taking two of the Unspeakables at the junction ahead by surprise. Now there were only two left, apparently. 

Suddenly, the spells stopped whizzing by the Coven, and they heard rapid footsteps echoing as the Unspeakables vanished down one of the corridors.

“I got this... go!” said Dora, casting Incarcerous Spells at the two sprawled across the stone floor.

Harry and Hermione needed no further prodding and raced through the dungeon passages, followed closely by their friends. Harry expected - he hoped - that the Unspeakables would lead them to whichever tunnel they were holding Neville and Ron in. 

A bloodcurdling scream suddenly caught Harry’s ears and he came to a halt, bringing everyone up short; and not a moment too soon. He crouched, flattening against the wall and everyone else followed suit as a burning jet of orange flame lit up the corridor. 

Harry had had enough. Fairly certain that there were no other students to get caught in the crossfire, Harry took the opportunity to cast an Expulsor in the direction of the Unspeakables. The sound of a grenade going off reverberated and the dungeon trembled. He glanced at the ceiling of the tunnel worriedly looking for cracks when it occurred to him that might not have been the best idea.

“It should be fine,” Hermione whispered, seeing Harry’s expression. “... _‘Upgrades,’_ remember?”

Harry couldn’t help a snort of dark mirth, turning a bit pink. 

Hermione cast the binding spell on the two Unspeakables as they passed by the two prone unconscious wizards. Everyone stiffened again when they heard another scream.

“This way,” Harry growled, looking down one of the corridors. “It came from this way...”

**~o0o~**

The dungeon passages echoed with screams as Alecto Carrow cackled at the boy dangling before her, hanging by his ankles from chains attached to the ceiling. She tossed aside the bloodied brass knuckles she had been using on Potter’s little friend and picked up one of her whips again.

Alecto’s face flushed with intoxication, her chest heaving with feverish release. She was delighted that at long last Dolores had given the go ahead for a punishment, and Alecto had been working on the boy since the wee hours of the morning.

“Such a shame that Bellatrix couldn’t be here,” Alecto purred at the sobbing boy, sucking on the fingertip which she had dabbed in the blood trickling down his cheek. “She loves a good whipping as much as I do, and she would no doubt find your punishment particularly delicious my dear...”

“But you should count your lucky stars Longbottom,” Alecto carried on, “as my dear friend tends to favour blades - a penchant she shares with Dolores - and sessions which end in death... when she’s not cruciating people beyond the edge of madness that is. You are much safer with me, my dear boy. I shall make certain that no permanent harm befalls you once we’re finished here.”

“I’ll even let Pomfrey regrow your teeth...” she cackled.

Alecto lifted her whip. Neville closed his eyes and grit his remaining teeth, bracing himself for the pain to begin afresh. Another shriek echoed through the dungeon corridors, but this time the howl of agony did not belong to Neville.

He opened his eyes again just in time to see the severed hand which had held Alecto’s whip sailing across the room followed by a spray of blood from the wrist it had been attached to.

 **“POTTER!”** Alecto bellowed, her eyes bulging in astonishment and pain. “How... What the hell are you doing here?”

“Saving my friends!” Harry snarled, standing in the doorway of the cell, his features ablaze with fury. “What have you done with Ron?”

Alecto Carrow snorted with disdain, ignoring Harry’s question as she darted behind Neville, out of Harry’s line of fire, whipping out her wand with her left hand. Bristling with fury at the sight of Neville’s condition, Hermione sprang through the doorway into an air-flip, silently slashing her own wand.

Horror crossed Alecto’s features when she saw a fountain of blood spurting from her other wrist, and both of her hands lying on the cold stone floor of the cell. Alecto’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and she fell into a dead faint.

**~o0o~**

It almost felt good to be sitting in the Headmaster’s office again with Dumbledore and Fawkes, along with Hermione and the rest of the Coven as the portraits in the Headmaster’s office cheered their return. Except for the fact that Ron was nowhere to be found in the Castle, and that Neville was in the hospital wing being healed with Hannah Abbott crying her eyes out at his bedside.

Hogwarts had otherwise been retaken without a hitch, the only casualty with permanent damage being Alecto Carrow.

The Order had taken most of the Unspeakables by surprise, capturing about forty of them, a dozen escaping through the Floo system which Dumbledore had locked down after returning to his office. Shacklebolt, Madam Bones, Dawlish, Hagrid, and a number of other Order Members had removed them and the Carrows from the Castle to a secret detention facility of their own: a proper one where they were to be held over until trial at the conclusion of the war.

Despite their success, Harry was torn, not really sure how to feel. He was certainly happy that Hogwarts was safe and that Dumbledore was back in charge. And he was happy that they had saved Neville. But Harry couldn’t help wondering if he had done enough to control himself - wondering if he’d gone too far with Alecto.

Harry tried to take some satisfaction in the fact that Alecto would probably never be able to hold a wand again, as they didn’t seem to work with prosthetic hands, and that he had restrained himself from killing her. Glancing at Hermione, Harry could tell that she felt much the same way.

“Well... I couldn’t be prouder of you all,” said Dumbledore, as he regarded his students warmly. His bushy eyebrows raised, Dumbledore looked directly at Harry as he continued. “You have _**all**_ conducted yourselves with utmost professionalism, and we have managed to retake Hogwarts without turning the school into a morgue - most of the students are safe and unharmed, and Mr Longbottom is now safely in Madam Pomfrey’s care...”

“So what about Ron sir?” Harry asked. “How are we going to find him? I wouldn’t even know where to start. There’s no way they’d try and hold him at the Ministry after we got Mr Weasley out.”

“You are quite correct Harry,” sighed Dumbledore. “Locating Ron Weasley could prove problematic until the Ministry falls. However, I think we can take a small measure of comfort in the fact that Percy Weasley is not likely to cause serious harm to his youngest brother. Arthur has indicated to me that Percy seems to believe that his youngest siblings are still capable of being ‘saved’...”

“Yeah... that makes sense,” Harry muttered, nodding. “Percy never really seemed to hate Ron and Ginny quite as much as he did Fred and George. Right... so what do we do in the meantime?”

“I think that you and your wife and friends should continue to recuperate at Jennifer’s estate from your ordeals for a few days more at least - perhaps even indefinitely,” the Headmaster replied. “At least until such time as you are needed again...”

“Seriously?” Harry frowned in bewilderment.

“Yes!” Dumbledore said in a tone which sounded like more of a command than a suggestion. “There will be more battles coming up ahead - which are certain to be much deadlier than the one we faced this morning! When the Order locates the smaller facilities, or comes across a particularly unmanageable Inferi Swarm, you will likely be called upon to assist us. And at some point, we shall move to take the Ministry itself - but that will require careful planning.

“Arthur revealed something else of import about the mindset of the Minister and her Deputy,” Dumbledore continued. “They believe that I harbour some sort of Secret Weapon which gives me an advantage over the Ministry. And in a sense, they are correct Harry... You and Mrs Potter - and I daresay your entire team - are the Order’s ‘Secret Weapon’... 

“But first and foremost, you are human, and for many humans, recovery from the sort of emotional turmoil you have faced recently - and will undoubtedly be called upon to face again - can take months and even years of recovery for even the most battle-hardened soldiers. I wish I could give you those years, but all I can guarantee for the foreseeable future is a few days at a time at best...”

**~o0o~**

Harry was surprised at himself when he realised how much he was actually looking forward to stepping back from things for a bit longer and returning to Jennifer’s manor. He felt a deep sense of relief that Dumbledore had more or less ordered him and the Coven to take some more time for themselves.

A part of Harry was more determined than ever to be out there fighting Minister Umbridge - and he couldn’t just let Ron rot - but he had to admit that seeing Neville being pulverised had also stirred up certain feelings again that he didn’t like. Over the past few days, Harry had been managing fairly well to push aside some of the horrific things he’d witnessed - been a participant in - and the attendant anger it had fueled, but seeing Neville looking so broken had brought much of it flooding back.

Sensing Harry’s inner-turmoil - and his relief - Hermione curled her arms around him, pressing her lips to his cheek. Harry returned Hermione’s embrace and they held each other as they looked out across the half-frozen surface of the Black Lake at the deceptively peaceful, glacial landscape of the Scottish Highlands in winter.

“This is a good thing Harry,” Hermione murmured reassuringly. “We all need this.”

Harry nodded and sighed.

“Yeah... we do,” Harry admitted, his voice hoarse. “I want to make sure that Neville’s alright before we go back though... And maybe talk to Seamus and Ginny a bit too - let them know that we’re not giving up on Ron.”

“Of course Harry,” said Hermione, smiling through her own tears. “Madam Pomfrey said we can visit Neville for a bit after lunch... we can go home later this afternoon if you’d like.”

Harry nodded again and managed a smile as he peered deeply into Hermione’s golden gaze, giving in to his urgent need to kiss her.

Making their way back up to the castle, among the many students braving the cold and snow to celebrate the removal of the Carrows and the Unspeakables by lounging around outside, Harry and Hermione spied a happy Dean Thomas kissing Susan Bones under an elm tree. And they weren’t the only ones eagerly making up for lost time; Angelina Johnson was snogging Fred silly near the Quidditch Pitch, and George was off elsewhere with Alicia. 

Of course the story that the Potters and their friends had helped get rid of the Unspeakables and incapacitated Alecto Carrow had already spread through the school like wildfire, and all were greeted like conquering heroes.

The mood in the Great Hall was almost festive as the little company ate lunch at the Mingling Table with Padma, and a number of their other friends stopped by. Viktor and Lavender stayed for lunch of course. Seamus Finnigan, Cedric and Cho, Blaise, Theo, and even Pansy Parkinson dropped by the table and said hello. 

But the Potters and their friends were all feeling a bit unsettled by the reverent attention from the many well-wishers whom they were far less acquainted with at Hogwarts.

“I know we’ve only been gone a few weeks - and that we’re not staying for long - but it feels a bit weird being back,” Daphne murmured, looking a bit anxious.

“I think I know what you mean,” said Parvati. “Most people seemed to ignore us more or less before... nobody had ever paid me much attention one way or another before this,” Parvati continued. “...I was just another Gryffindor then... just part of ‘Harry Potter’s lot’... Now it’s like everyone wants to know us...”

“Yeah... it is a bit odd!” Harry muttered. “I would’ve thought that a load of people would be believing all that rubbish about me and Dumbledore being criminals and violent rebels... But not even the Slytherins are really giving us a hard time, and now everyone seems to think I’m a hero again - that we all are...”

Ginny reddened when she remembered that she still hadn’t told everyone what had happened with Ron a few weeks ago, and decided to just let Padma continue the story.

“You don’t know what it was like after you left,” Padma told Harry, Daphne, and Parvati. “At first, loads of people didn’t really know what to believe. All they really knew was that Malfoy had been killed, and that Fred and George and you lot had fled Hogwarts with all of the muggleborn students... a lot of people thought the rubbish on the Wiz-Vision might be true at first.

“But when Crabbe and Goyle publicly backed up Katie and Alicia’s and Ginny’s version of events, most people began to question things over the next few days. By the end of the week, the Carrows put their foot down and threatened harsh measures to stop people talking about it, and the Unspeakables had the school on total lockdown...”

“Wait... Crabbe and Goyle did _what?”_ Hermione’s jaw dropped in stunned disbelief. Luna raised her eyebrows at Ginny, who was cringing.

“You mean they actually told everyone in school the truth? ” Harry’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he gaped.

“Zey vere frightened of Ginny Weasley,” Viktor chortled, pointing at the Slytherin table where Goyle was sitting with crutches and a wooden leg.

Fleur guiltily tried to hide a smirk as she recalled the events of the evening they had all departed Hogwarts. Ginny hid her blazing face in her hands.

“I can't believe we forgot,” squeaked Daphne, clapping a hand to her mouth. “I don’t think Fleur or I ever told you what Ginny did to Goyle that night after they tried to rape Katie, and Draco tried to kill me...”

“I forgot to tell you too...” said Ginny in a little, muffled voice, hoping that Fleur or Daphne wouldn’t bring up McLaggen and Towler.

“Most of ze rest of the Slytherins haff been on their best behaviour ever since,” Viktor added with a grin.

“Blimey!” Harry wasn’t sure whether to feel proud of Ginny, or guilty for teaching her the Sectumsempra Curse, but all in all he was extremely glad that he had.

“Looks like Ginny’s really good at looking after herself now,” Harry said quietly to Hermione, a sheepish expression on his face. Hermione nodded, not sure what else to say.

“Good for ‘er,” Dora muttered, “... ‘opefully the lesson learned sticks with the rest of the Snakes.”

Even though she’d had very little personal interaction with Slytherins beyond meeting Blaise, Theo, and Pansy, Jennifer quite agreed. She had been given a thorough history of relations between most of the Slytherins and the rest of the school by Daphne herself, who hadn’t painted a very flattering picture of Slytherin House.

“Anyway,” Lavender finally chimed in, telling the bit of the story she’d been witness to. “After the Carrows and the Unspeakables tried to stop people talking about what really happened, nobody could even sneeze without getting detention and humiliating punishments.”

“The Carrows didn’t actually beat anyone half to death like they did to Neville last night, but people were afraid that they might after what Miss Carrow did to Ron, Susan and Neville...” 

“Wait...” gasped Harry. “What did they do to Susan, Ron, and Neville?”

Ginny lifted her head and peered apologetically at Luna and Harry. 

“Alecto Carrow vanished Ron’s clothes and made him take all of his lessons in his underwear one day when he called her a liar during class,” Lavender continued. “Neville and Susan Bones too... 

“They backed Ron up and they all ended up having to go to classes in their underwear that day. Alecto Carrow told them they’d lose their underwear too next time, and threatened them all with a flogging as well if they did it again - corporal punishment is one of the stupid Educational Decrees now - I forget what number they’re up to now... Nobody dared cross the Carrows to their face after that.”

Harry groaned and rubbed at his forehead as if he still had a burning scar; Hermione gave him a comforting squeeze.

“See Harry,” said Hermione, “we told you it wasn’t your fault! It looks like the Carrows already had their sights set on Neville and Ron...”

“I hope he’s alright,” Ginny moaned. I suppose if he’s with Percy he might be okay...”

“We’ll get him back eventually,” Harry tried to reassure Ginny. “And yeah, I’m sure that Percy won’t actually try to hurt Ron...”

“...We think he’s trying to win Ron over,” Hermione concluded. 

Oddly, a sardonic smile crept to Ginny’s lips.

“Fat chance of that! Percy’ll be wasting his breath - he’d have to Imperius Ron to turn him against you two,” said Ginny. “Ron’s been one of your biggest supporters since you had to leave, Harry.” 

“And now that everyone knows that you lot thrashed a load of Unspeakables, crippled Alecto Carrow, and helped kick them out of the school, you’re _**all**_ going to be really popular!” Padma concluded with a grin.

As lunch came to a conclusion, the members of the Coven couldn’t help but feel as if there were also something a bit more to their sense of discomfort. But it was hard to put their finger on it, and it went unspoken.

**~o0o~**

Hannah’s eyes were still red and puffy when Harry and Hermione found her at Neville’s bedside in the Hospital Wing. Neville was fast asleep, heavily dosed with pain potions and sleeping draughts. Though the cuts had been healed, and the bruising and the swelling had diminished, Neville’s face still looked a bit of mess. Hannah flung her arms around both Potters gratefully when they arrived.

“Thanks so much for rescuing Neville,” Hannah sniffled, fresh tears in her eyes as she clung tightly to Hermione and Harry.

“How is he?” Hermione asked gently when Hannah let them both go.

“Pomfrey says he’ll be alright in a few days,” Hannah replied. “She’s letting him sleep for most of today before she regrows his teeth and heals some of his most damaged bones though, because she’ll have to use Skele-gro...”

“That makes sense,” said Harry. “Neville’s already been through a lot, and regrowing bones is rough.”

“And how are you holding up Hannah?” asked Hermione sympathetically.

“I’ll be fine I suppose. Now that I know Neville’s okay...” Hannah smiled wanly. “I hope Ron Weasley’s alright too though,” she added quickly.

**~o0o~**

Delicate wisps of magenta drifted across purple skies as the sun slipped over the horizon. The first stars had already begun to twinkle in the darkest bits of sky when the air rippled above one of the snow-covered rolling Dorset hills.

Eight dizzy figures spun from the swirling vortex and collapsed on the cold powdery blanket of white in front of the Elizabethan manor at the top of the hill. The bitter wind brought with it the scent of the sea, and the Coven let out a collective sigh of relief to be home as they scrambled to their feet and brushed the snow off their coats.

“Of all the methods of wizard travel, I think I prefer brooms,” grumbled Jennifer.

“Me too,” said Harry and Dora simultaneously as the others giggled.

The smell of delicious food cooking wafted through the house when Jennifer opened the front door. Somehow, Dobby had known that they would be arriving just in time for dinner. Worn out from the long day, and curious to see what the WVN news would have to say about the turn of events, Harry elected to take dinner in the sitting room with the Wiz-Vision, and the others followed.

The news began as always with the introduction of the ever smarmy and splendidly coiffed William O’Hannity and his brassy, overly made-up co-anchor, Endora LeFay. Harry was a bit surprised not to see Minister Umbridge, as he had been expecting her to issue some sort of new proclamation now that Hogwarts was back in Dumbledore’s hands.

Instead, after scathingly castigating the Order’s hacked broadcast the previous evening as being an utter fiction, O’Hannity gravely announced the takeover of Hogwarts by the dastardly rebels with stock footage of the castle in the background.

“Perhaps ze Minister is too angry to make an appearance,” Fleur tittered. But the mirth was short-lived as the news segment continued.

“...Surviving Ministry security officials who managed to flee, described a bloodbath, forced to leave behind the mutilated bodies of fallen colleagues, and possibly students as well...” O’Hannity was saying.

“According to the officials, assassins Harry Potter and his wife were at the scene, and under Albus Dumbledore’s command, are apparently responsible for much of the carnage. It is not known how many were killed during this incredibly violent act of terrorism. Though, escaping Ministry officials were able to rescue at least one student from the bloodshed, someone known to be a close friend of the young insurgent...”

The Coven’s groans at the all-too-expected utter contrivance quieted as they glanced worriedly at Harry when a boy with red hair and freckles appeared on the screen. Harry’s nostrils flared as his face darkened with fury. Hermione drew closer to Harry and coiled an arm around him.

“Harry, please... how many more must die for Dumbledore’s madness?” Ron pleaded woodenly, staring glassily into the camera, dark circles under his eyes. “This violence has to stop. Can’t you see that Dumbledore is manipulating you? 

“Please, if you turn yourself in now, you can help bring all the killing to an end... Please Harry! If not for your own sake, then for Hermione’s...”

“Well, there you have it,” said William O’Hannity with a sad shake of his well-groomed head. “Ronald Weasley, youngest brother of the Senior Undersecretary, and Harry Potter’s best friend, valiantly urging Mr Potter to turn himself in to the proper authorities...”

Trying desperately to stop herself from hyperventilating, Hermione clicked off the Wiz-Vision and peered at Harry.

“We don’t need to see any more of this rubbish,” Hermione hissed furiously. “It’s _**obvious**_ that Ron’s been imperiused.”

Harry nodded slowly and sighed, allowing his own anger to drain away for Hermione’s sake - for both of their sakes - for everyone's. He could at least take some small comfort in knowing that Ron was relatively safe for the moment.


	67. The Scarlet Claw's Greatest Hits

The bedclothes rustled as he drew nearer to his wife.

“I still think something’s going on,” he said quietly, a finger twirling one of her locks as he lay beside her. 

“What?”

“With Dora...”

“Oh hush,” Andromeda rolled her eyes. “Go to sleep dear. Try not to read so much into things.”

“...and the Potters...”

“You can’t seriously be implying...?” Andromeda gave her husband a withering look. “That’s absolutely preposterous! For one thing Ted, in case you haven’t noticed, one of the Potters is decidedly of the wrong persuasion for her...”

“She’s young...” Ted retorted, shrugging. “She could still be experimentin’... checkin’ things out...”

“Yes... but... Don’t be ridiculous!” Andromeda snapped, suddenly feeling strangely flustered. “I mean... _**really!**_ What’s got into you Ted? ... Nymphadora’s got a girlfriend - the French girl - and you think... the Potters? ... with _both_ of them? ... I’ve never heard of anything so tawdry...”

“I’m just sayin’.... You remember the time we caught ‘er with the Gilmour’s girls in the attic don’tcha? ... _all three of them!_ ...” Ted raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Eh? ... _Come on_... you’ve got to admit...”

“For heaven's sake! I hardly think that amounts to the same thing...” Andromeda waved her hand dismissively. “Four young girls discovering themselves at that age... just reaching puberty... it’s only natural for everyone to be having a look. What you’re suggesting is completely different...”

“Is it? ... Is it?” Ted Tonks dropped his teasing expression and gave his wife a serious look. “Maybe that Skeeter article was onto something...”

“Oh... Now I know that you’ve completely lost your mind! I’ll be checking you into St Mungo’s Mind Healing ward first thing in the morning...”

“That’s not what I meant...” Ted rolled his eyes and tickled his wife’s vulnerable waist.

“Haha... Ted! Stop... stop being silly....”

Ted grinned and his fingers came to a halt.

“Of course I don’t believe all that _secret harem_ rubbish,” he said. “But think about it. The Delacour girl was all over the Potters at the end of the Second Task, and not long after, Dora’s together with Delacour, and then all four of them off to London together...? Well... eh?”

“Yes... but... for the Trial...” Andromeda faltered, feeling unsettled.

 _“All four of them?”_ Ted retorted. “Dora... yeah! Of course she’d be there... Like you said, she was doin’ her job. Dora had a reason to go to London with the Potters.... But Delacour? You saw those pictures from the end of the Second Task! That was more than just friendly kisses the girl was givin’ the Potters... And then after London our girl, she goes all quiet on us...”

“Do you really think...?” Andromeda peered at her husband, the spark of something long buried flickering in her eyes. “You really think it’s possible?”

“That our girl could be mixed up in some sort o’ weird foursome?” Ted chortled, shaking his head. “Is it really so difficult to believe?”

“Don’t be silly! Of course it isn’t! I meant... is it possible that I might eventually get to be a grandmother after all?”

**~o0o~**

Hermione tossed and turned first one way, and then the other. Seeing Harry staring at her, his eyebrows raised in befuddlement, Hermione sighed and rolled back over again. She stiffened a little, then trembled at Harry’s touch when he slid up behind her and took her gently in his arms.

Hermione let out another sigh, this one more contented, as she relaxed slightly and nestled into Harry’s warm embrace.

“What’s wrong Hermione?”

“I...” 

Uncharacteristically, Hermione was at a loss for words. How was she supposed to tell Harry how she felt without upsetting him? Harry always hated talking about that sort of thing. But she had to be honest with Harry. Finally, Hermione took a deep breath and decided to go for broke.

“I... you... Harry...” Hermione’s voice crumbled and a few stray tears rolled down her cheeks. She pulled herself together and tried again.

“This morning... for a moment - just a brief moment - it looked like you in those chains, being beaten and tortured by Alecto Carrow. And now... now I can’t get that image out of my head. I can’t stop thinking about you suffering like that all those years with your Uncle....”

“Woah... woah, Hold on...” said Harry quickly, sounding panicked. “Look... Yeah, it was horrible. But it was _**nothing**_ like that Hermione... I promise!”

“I _saw_ them Harry... the nasty bruises, the welts - the ones you tried to hide from me after Ron and the Twins helped me rescue you from the Dursleys. They were horrible. I’m surprised your ribs weren’t broken like Neville’s...” 

“Bruises always look worse than they really are,” Harry cast around wildly, trying to think of something to stop Hermione obsessing. He knew she’d always taken his mistreatment at the Dursleys’ hands very hard. “Really... What happened to Neville - what Alecto did to him - it wasn’t as bad as that at the Dursleys...

“Okay... yeah, I suppose there was the one time I got a hairline fracture from falling off a wall while running away from Dudley’s gang, and yeah, I did get a few cuts and skinned knees and elbows as well as the bruises from their pummelings... maybe a few black eyes and split lips... but that was about the worst of it...

“And yeah, okay... Aunt Petunia slapped me and pulled my ear a bit, but it didn’t hurt _that_ much... and the one time with a frying pan - more than one time actually - but I dodged it all those times, and in retrospect I could tell she wasn’t _really_ trying to hit me with it...

“And yeah, Uncle Vernon was horrible when he got angry. But even so, it could’ve been way worse. He’d only... er... ‘box-my-ears’ a bit, or give me a sharp whack on the shoulders, or grab me really hard and squash me against a wall... punch me a bit... sometimes his belt...”

Hermione turned back over in bed and stared at Harry as he babbled, horrified at the nonchalant way he was listing and diminishing all the awful things his family - especially his Uncle Vernon - had done to him.

 _“Harry!”_ she said sharply, cutting him off. “Don’t you _**dare**_ try and tell me how your suffering wasn’t as bad as Neville’s. Okay, so maybe your Uncle Vernon didn’t lock you in chains and dangle you by your feet, but he kept you locked up in a little cupboard - and put bars on your window - caged you like an animal. 

“And maybe he didn’t hit you so hard that he knocked all your teeth out and broke your ribs... But he beat you a lot over the years, and am I supposed to pretend it’s alright then, just because Vernon didn’t hurt you so badly all in one go that he’d be caught out and sent to prison? ...”

“No,” Harry groaned, “That’s not what I meant...”

“Harry, you _always_ try and act like your suffering isn’t as bad as - or as important as - someone else’s suffering,” Hermione asserted. “It’s one of the things that makes you such a kind person - one of the things I love about you - but sometimes you take it too far for your own good. It’s one thing to put someone else’s feeling’s ahead of your own, but you shouldn’t minimise your own experiences! 

“And even if _you_ can forget about it, I can’t! When I saw Neville looking all broken in there, it was just too much... and I just couldn’t get past it. I... I’m really sorry it’s all come out like this... I know you don’t like talking about it. I didn’t mean to bring it all up for you again... I really didn’t... I’m sorry Harry...”

“Don’t apologise Hermione,” Harry sighed, pulling her closer again and kissing her forehead. “I asked you what was wrong, and I’m _**glad**_ you told me! I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to minimise your feelings about what the Dursleys did to me, and... and you’re right, I do sort of downplay my own experiences. I don’t really know why - I’m not sure if there’s just one reason or a lot of them. 

“Part of it might be a guy thing too I suppose... you know, trying to tough it out... I dunno...” Harry snorted mirthlessly. 

“Look at me... I’m a mess. I really _haven’t_ sorted it all out yet, have I!?” he sighed. “I probably ought to try and talk about things a bit more, I just don’t... I can’t burden you with that Hermione, and there’s really nobody else I can talk to about these sorts of things...”

“It’s _never_ a burden for me Harry,” Hermione quietly interjected, her forehead leaning against his. “I love you. That’s what love is... sharing the good bits _**and**_ the bad bits together...”

“Yeah... yeah it is,” Harry agreed, gazing greenly into Hermione’s eyes. “I love you too Hermione...”

**~o0o~**

Dumbledore brought the meeting in the staff-room to a close and the professors stood up, all preparing to get on with things and make sure the school was all in order before the end of the Christmas Holidays. Slughorn gave Snape an apologetic smile.

“I’m dreadfully sorry Severus,” said Professor Slughorn. “I certainly didn’t intend to steal your thunder, nor your position as Head of House...”

“Not at all Horace,” Professor Snape interjected; his nearly inscrutable expression inexplicably bearing a hint of relief. “I am restored to my position as Potions Master, but my work for the Order will keep me too busy to focus my attention entirely on the students.

“As Alchemy Professor and the former Head of Slytherin House, you were the obvious choice for the task, Horace... and you will no doubt continue to be called upon to fill in for me on occasion for the foreseeable future.”

“Speaking of restored positions, I’d best be off to see what sort of mess Alecto Carrow has made of Defence Against the Dark Arts,” sighed Professor Lupin. “I don’t suppose anyone’s learned much the last couple of months while she’s been running the class...”

“Well in any case, we’ll be changin’ things up a bit, Remus,” Moody growled. “Don’t be too quick to revise the Defence syllabus until after our meetin’ with the Potters’ friends this afternoon - we’ll hammer out the details for the class after that.”

The mangled ex-Auror turned and grimaced at Slughorn and Snape. “Right then... if either of you two see Krum, make sure he’s at that meetin’... Longbottom too...”

“Longbottom is still in the hospital wing and shouldn’t be moved,” McGonagall stated firmly.

“Right!” Moody grunted. “We’ll let him know whatever he needs t’know after then. Now, what about the Weasley girl? She’s a real firecracker that one is...”

“Unfortunately, I have not come across Miss Weasley yet this morning, Alastor...” sighed Professor McGonagall. “I did not see her at breakfast...” 

“Nor are you likely to Minerva,” Dumbledore interjected. “However do not worry yourself. I have it on good authority that our young Miss Weasley is in good hands...”

“The Potters...” McGonagall gasped, throwing up her hands in exasperation. “Miss Weasley sneaked out of the castle to stay with the Potters and the rest of their friends, didn’t she? If she wasn’t going through so much turmoil in her life right now, I’d be of half a mind to give her detention...”

“I have a far more appropriate plan,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. “Unfortunately it means that I must confront Molly Weasley, and change her mind. A daunting prospect indeed...”

Lupin patted Dumbledore on the shoulder and chuckled. “I am sure you are up to the task. Best of luck, Albus!”

**~o0o~**

Red hair, freckles, button nose... Ginny Weasley looked so cherubic and peaceful lying asleep on the sofa, hair strewn across a cushion, that nobody had the heart to wake her when they found her in the parlour early that morning.

Ginny finally woke when the smell of bacon hit her nostrils. She turned pink and grinned sheepishly when she spied Luna sitting beside her on the sofa with a plate of breakfast on her lap and a neutral expression on her face.

“‘Morning Ginny. There’s a plate for you too. Dobby’s keeping it hot,” said Luna nonchalantly, as if nothing was unusual. 

“Er... Good Morning?” Ginny squeaked, biting her lip. 

“Oh yes... It’s getting late, but it’s still morning, and it’s sunny outside,” said Luna airily. “I don’t know if in and of itself that qualifies as ‘good’ but today sunny does feel good... probably because it’s so cold with all the snow around...” 

Ginny couldn’t think how to respond to that.

Moments later the door to the parlour swung open and Dobby arrived with a breakfast tray for Ginny. As she quietly ate breakfast, Ginny peered at Luna worriedly. Luna looked as annoyingly serene as ever. Ginny wondered how cross she might be. Sighing, Ginny finished the rest of her crumpet, washed it down with some tea, and decided to get it over with.

“I’m sorry,” said Ginny in a small voice, casting her eyes down. “I should have told you what was going on at Hogwarts... about what I did to Goyle - I just forgot to tell you... what happened with Ron and Susan and Neville - I didn’t want to worry you...”

Luna’s big silvery grey eyes widened slightly, looking concerned. “McLaggen... Towler and McLaggen...”

“Wh...what?” Ginny swallowed anxiously.

“Tell me about McLaggen,” said Luna gently, “about him and Towler this time, and the time before...”

“Or _don’t_ tell me. That’s alright too,” Luna quickly and very earnestly added. “I’m here for whatever you need Ginny - someone to talk to - or someone to just be with and _not_ talk to - either way... 

“I think it’s very sweet that you don’t want to worry me, and I’m not cross at all that you tried not to. But I’ll always worry about you when I’m not with you anyway - because I love you! I really don’t care that you didn’t tell me what was happening at Hogwarts. 

“But I _do_ care about what’s happening with _**you**_... I want to know if someone hurts you, or if you feel bad because someone’s trying to hurt you, or if someone tried to hurt you and you feel bad because you had to hurt them to stop them from hurting you...”

Luna paused when Ginny winced.

“Anyway... you don’t have to talk about any of those things if you don’t want to - I know that’s difficult, which is why I haven't pressed you on what happened with McLaggen until now - but if you feel up to it, I’m always ready to listen. ... And don’t be afraid to tell me something because you think that I don’t want to know, because I’m telling you that I _**do**_ want to know... If it has to do with how you feel, then I want to know everything.”

“I... It’s just too hard... I don’t understand,” said Ginny, wiping at the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “I get why I feel guilty for cutting off McLaggen’s willy - that was awful - but I don’t get why I feel too ashamed to talk to anyone about _why_ I did it...” Ginny trailed off, her demeanor suddenly shifting.

“Why should _**I**_ feel ashamed and dirty for what he tried to do to me?” Ginny spat angrily. “It’s not fair. _**He’s**_ the one who should feel ashamed, not me! And now... now I can’t even have that, because I just feel guilty about what I did to him... It’s not fair...” 

Luna wrapped her arms around Ginny, pulling her into a tight embrace. The sound of Ginny tearfully mumbling, “...It’s not fair...” grew muted, muffled by the fabric of Luna’s jumper as Ginny sniffled into her chest. Luna held Ginny and let her sniffle quietly for a bit before saying anything. 

“Well... if it’s any consolation,” Luna began, in a tone which had the ring of journalistic authority, “in a completely scientific poll of everyone who knows the whole story of what happened to Ginny Weasley on the day of the Arrest of Dumbledore and the Hogwarts Riot, and of what happened to her last year, one hundred percent of all poll respondents agreed that Cormac McLaggen got exactly what he deserved...”

“D...don’t be silly,” Ginny let out a teary little giggle.

“It’s true. Daphne, Fleur, and Dora filled the rest of us in on the bits we didn’t know last night - the bit you told them in the hospital wing about McLaggen having a go at you last year - and we all agreed.”

“Really? Even... even Harry? ... and Hermione?”

Luna’s Mona Lisa smile broadened slightly. “Especially Harry and Hermione.”

“That... that does make me feel a bit better actually.” Ginny dabbed her tears and smiled wanly. “I suppose I’ll eventually get over it. But... but it would be easier if I could just stay with you guys. I can’t stand being at Hogwarts without you Luna... Please say I can stay. I belong here - with you and the others...”

“...A conclusion which I have also reached, Miss Weasley,” said a completely unexpected but very familiar voice.

Ginny’s hotly blazing face momentarily became indistinguishable in colour from her hair when she spied Dumbledore standing in the doorway. She should have guessed someone from Hogwarts would come after her.

“Oh no!” she squeaked with embarrassment and anxiety, looking for a place to hide from the headmaster’s cool crystal blue gaze. “I’m in so much trouble, aren’t I!?”

“Please, calm yourself Miss Weasley,” said Dumbledore gently. “I am not here to bring you back to Hogwarts clapped in irons. Quite the opposite in fact...”

“Wait...” Ginny gasped, “You mean, you’re letting me stay?”

“Oh, I am doing much more than that Miss Weasley...” Dumbledore’s eyes began to twinkle as he retrieved his wand from within his robes. “And believe me, the magic I am about to perform, complicated though it may look, is nothing compared to the effort it took to convince your mother that this was a necessary step to take in ensuring your long-term safety.... Though admittedly, it was much easier to convince her than it might have been before your brother was taken...”

Ginny’s mouth gaped in bewilderment as Dumbledore prepared himself to perform some sort of spell. Out of the corner of her eye Ginny spotted Harry and Hermione and the others, who had all apparently come to watch whatever was happening. 

“What I am about to do is magic of a highly advanced nature,” said Dumbledore, launching into lecture-mode as he began waving his wand. Ginny gasped when she found herself at the centre of a web of light - multicoloured luminous filaments surrounding her. 

“This is a spell-matrix... the basic structure of a tracking charm to be precise. In some sense this is similar to what muggle computer programmers call ‘source-code,’ and visually speaking it ironically is not unlike what a holographic projection of a microcircuit might look like...”

Having recently watched _TRON_ for the first time when he had discovered the videotape in Jennifer’s collection, Harry thought that was a fairly good description of what he was seeing. Pleased that he was actually so far following one of Dumbledore’s lectures on theory, Harry listened intently.

“A spell-matrix is not generally visible to the naked eye, and the spell to reveal it is far beyond NEWT standards... Though I think that should not be taken as a note of discouragement for this particular group of students,” Dumbledore said wryly, winking. 

“In any case, once it is visible, the spell-matrix can be adjusted or even broken altogether by someone with the right skill sets and levels of expertise... filament, by filament...” 

Dumbledore began weaving strands of light - silvery, golden, green, and violet - between the red, blue-white, silver, and orange filaments of the spell-matrix surrounding Ginny. 

“For those of you more familiar with muggle technologies, what I am doing can be viewed as similar to ‘hacking’ a computer system... or to defusing a bomb,” Dumbledore continued. “And with a spell, both can be true at the same time. To be able to do this requires detailed knowledge of a highly specialised branch of Alchemy... a branch known as Metaphysicorum...” 

“That puts me out of the running...” Harry grumbled under his breath into Hermione’s ear.

“...And contrary to popular belief, to work in such a highly specialised discipline as Metaphysicorum in the manner in which I am working at this very moment is as much Art as it is Science,” said Dumbledore pointedly, as if in response to Harry’s whispered remark. “Only someone with the skills and dexterity of a calligrapher or painter can really accomplish this in practical terms...”

Hermione nudged Harry and grinned. “Between me and you, Harry,” she whispered, “we could do this - together. I know we can.”

Harry returned Hermione’s grin and kissed the top of her bushy head. “If you say we can, then I believe it.” 

“...and there, that ought to do it,” said Dumbledore as he threaded his wand like a needle one last time. A glowing strand of violet twisted around one of the silver filaments of light surrounding Ginny. Dumbledore gave his wand a gentle tug; there was a very brief flash and it was gone... the spell-matrix had vanished.

“Well Miss Weasley, you are now free of the Trace,” Dumbledore added sprightly. “And you are now also free to be where you belong... with your friends...”

“R...really? That’s it? I can do magic anytime I want now, without being tracked down? And I can stay?” 

“Well, though this does technically void your status as a minor, I would suggest that you do not push your luck with your mother. She only agreed because she could hardly deny at this point that this was the most effective way of keeping you out of Ministry hands. 

“And as to taking a leave of absence from Hogwarts and staying here with your friends, it is best for your own sake that you do. There are very few at Hogwarts who can relate to the experiences of those who have seen war at its ugliest. Most are too young...” Dumbledore sighed, briefly looking his age. 

“And to my mind it is perhaps preferable that is so. You are among the few of those your age today who now have the dubious distinction of being caught up in the thick of war - not merely as civilian bystanders or casualties, but as active participants... as warriors yourselves. 

“And yes Miss Weasley... please rest assured that the violent acts committed against you - the acts to which you were responding - can be considered as acts of war, albeit on a very personal level. It does little good to second guess decisions taken in heat of battle which prevented someone from causing you great harm, or to bear the burden of a transferred sense of guilt. And you were correct... for that continued assurance you will need your friends.

“Indeed, you will all be relying heavily on one another to learn how to cope effectively with your experiences on the field of battle, as I know you already are. It is my hope that affairs of state are settled in a timely manner, and that you may all eventually resume your education with as much semblance of ‘normalcy’ as is possible.

“In the meantime however, look after each other well. And on that note, I must be off, back to Hogwarts. Just one final thought before I depart, I believe that you will all find the evening news on the Wiz Vision to be a most edifying experience tonight. And Miss Weasley, may I say that your performance was outstanding...”

Ginny blushed deeply again as Dumbledore winked and bade all farewell. For a moment he looked as if he had something more to add but thought better of it, and then he was gone. When Luna and the others all looked at her questioningly, Ginny groaned.

“The interview I did with Skeeter yesterday. You’ll see soon enough...”

**~o0o~**

“Alohomora,” muttered Ron, waving his hand at the locked door for the hundredth time.

He tried the brass handle and swore when it still refused to open. Ron had another go at the latched window, and it wouldn’t budge either. Ron knew it was a long-shot that he’d ever be able to pull off a wandless spell; they were supposed to be incredibly difficult even for the most experienced adult wizards, and he knew that he was only an average fifteen year old wizard at best. But he had to try.

Ron angrily flung himself back on the bed, glowering at the cold scrambled eggs and bacon and the congealed porridge sitting on the breakfast tray. Ron was starving; it was almost noon and Ron hadn’t eaten a thing since dinner at Hogwarts the night before last. Percy had brought him plenty of food, but Ron had furiously rejected every meal.

Ron ripped his eyes away from the cold breakfast and stared at the pink ceiling, guiltily doing his best to squash the bitter feelings which Percy had stirred within him again in an attempt to make him turn against Harry. The words still echoed in his mind.

“Just think Ron,” Percy had said, “if Dad had taken a higher paying position at the Ministry instead of tinkering on experiments for Dumbledore, and put aside his ridiculous muggle obsession, you could’ve had everything that _**Potter**_ has: gold, new brooms, a girl...

“We could have lived in a proper house with house-elves instead of in that miserable hovel - and you could have been proud of our family’s name and status...”

Percy had kept at it most of the day yesterday, but Ron had refused to give in to his old envies. Sure, Ron had to admit to himself that he still felt the occasional pang of jealousy that Harry was rich and famous, that Harry was better at magic than Ron, and that girls seemed to like Harry more than him; but it didn’t seem anywhere near as bad as before.

Ron had been surprised to find that it no longer had any hold over him, and he didn’t really know why. He supposed it might be because he was good at quidditch now and people had seemed to notice him a lot more since the match against Slytherin... including a number of very attractive girls. 

But all Ron really knew for certain was that he had been a lot happier since he and Seamus had become best friends. Seamus really seemed to get him, and just accepted Ron without judgment - warts and all. 

It didn’t matter so much to Ron that he wasn’t best friends with Harry anymore. Ron knew that Harry still liked him a bit, and that was enough.

When he saw that he wasn’t getting through to Ron, Percy had finally had enough of it and simply imperiused him. Ron could only recall a few fuzzy vague snatches of what had followed, his memories of late afternoon yesterday muddled and foggy.

If Percy hadn’t made Ron watch the news last night, Ron probably wouldn’t have even recollected enough to feel guilty for betraying Harry on the WVN news. Mostly Ron just remembered that the rest of this house seemed to be as disgustingly pink as the guest room in which he was imprisoned.

The gnawing emptiness ached in the pit of Ron’s stomach. Finally deciding that his hunger strike was over, Ron picked up a piece of bacon and savagely tore into it with his teeth as he considered his options. He had been taken somewhere else by floo to make his statement on camera, and it was possible that Percy might make him do it again.

Maybe Ron could catch Percy off guard the next time - steal his wand and escape somehow before they flooed away. Fred and George had taught him a few fighting spells along with the rest of the quidditch team and Seamus. But Ron couldn’t do any of that if he was imperiused; he would have to try and convince Percy - pretend that he’d finally come around...

**~o0o~**

Neville glanced up from his bed, peering over Hannah’s head, when Fred and George entered the hospital wing. Hannah separated her lips from Neville’s, sensing his distraction, and turned to see who had interrupted their kiss. The Twins smirked as Neville’s face reddened and Hannah’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t mind us.” Fred grinned. “We’ll only be a moment. You can carry on to your heart’s content when we’re gone.”

“We just came to let you know that we’ve all been invited to a meeting with Lupin and Moody in the Staff-Room this afternoon,” George added. “Well... to let you in on it anyway. You’re supposed to be resting up in here, but we’ll come back later and tell you what happened at the meeting.”

“What’s up?” asked Neville, frowning pensively.

“According to McGonagall, Dumbledore wants to make sure we’re all keeping on learning to fight properly,” Fred replied. “And to start training up more students...”

“...probably to prepare us all to defend ourselves and Hogwarts if the Ministry attacks,” continued George. “You two, us, Lavender, Padma Patil, Krum, Susan Bones - anyone who was training with Harry - we’re all supposed to be at the meeting - we're probably going to be assisting in training up the other students.”

“What about Hermione and Harry and the others? Aren’t they coming back then?” Hannah queried, glancing anxiously at Neville.

“Dunno really,” Fred shrugged. “I suppose we’ll find out at the meeting.”

“I’m sure they’ll be back eventually, Hannah.” George gave her and Neville a reassuring smile. “They’ll all probably be too busy catching up their own studies and going on missions for the Order when they do return to help teach everyone else how to fight.”

**~o0o~**

Even if Dumbledore hadn’t suggested watching the Wiz-Vision’s evening news, Harry’s near obsession with keeping up with what the Ministry was saying might have compelled him to in any case.

Hermione was less sanguine about turning on the Wiz-Vision again at first, but she was hardly about to miss the pirated broadcast. Thankfully, they didn’t have to watch much of William O’Hannity; the official news was interrupted within seconds by the Order’s programme. 

“Blimey!” gasped Harry. “Is that...?”

“...Rita Skeeter?” Hermione’s jaw gaped open. “No... it can’t be...”

The woman on the screen looked utterly unlike the woman they knew. The transformation was worthy of a metamorphmagus. Rita looked quite different with only a modest amount of makeup and straight mousy-blonde hair falling naturally around her shoulders. She could have passed for a BBC documentarian. 

In fact the entire production had the polished earnest look of a BBC documentary: clean graphics, high production values but shaky camera-work in just the right places, and crisp, clear interviews. 

The first interview was with Neville. Everyone winced when Neville appeared on-screen, battered and bloodied in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. His eyes were swollen shut, and he was badly slurring his words like a savagely beaten boxer who had lost fifteen rounds.

“...Alecto Carrow, the Inquisitor, she did this to me...” Neville was telling Rita Skeeter on-camera, “Harry Potter saved my life...”

“Zey must have filmed this yesterday morning right after ze rescue, before Neville was allowed to rest,” Fleur muttered. 

Though Neville’s serious injuries and interview were a big focus of the hacked broadcast, Rita certainly didn’t end it there.

“...that was of course Neville Longbottom, scion and heir to the House of Longbottom,” said Rita as she addressed the camera, “one of the ‘Sacred Twenty-eight’ still listed in the ‘Pureblood Directory.’ Is this how Minister Umbridge means to restore an openly Pureblood dominated Order in Britain? By beating Purebloods who oppose such efforts into submission?

“And moving on, another who can tell of the Inquisitors’ reign of terror at Hogwarts is Susan Bones, niece of the highly regarded former head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” Rita continued.

“I... I only asked a s...simple question in class,” sobbed Susan convincingly, “and... and Inquisitor Carrow v...vanished my c...c...clothes. Sh...she m...made me go to all of my classes n...naked...”

Harry raised his eyebrows at Hermione who was giggling.

“It looks like Dumbledore is putting Rita’s talents to good use,” Hermione chortled. “She must have coached Susan a bit.”

“Look, it’s you,” said Luna with a grin, unnecessarily pointing at the screen when Ginny’s recognisable features appeared on the Wiz-Vision. Slumped on the sofa, Ginny groaned and buried her face in her hands. 

Rita Skeeter placed great emphasis on the fact that Ginny’s family was also listed in the Pureblood Directory among the Sacred Twenty-Eight before launching into the interview. Ginny’s weeping was as convincing as Susan’s had been and drew rave reviews - not to mention a few chortles and giggles - from the rest of the Coven.

“Th...they kidnapped Ron from his dormitory in the n...night,” the Ginny on-screen sobbed. “They’re probably t...t...torturing him too. He would never t...turn against H...Harry otherwise. I just d...don’t understand wh...what happened to Percy... how he turned out so horrible... how he could do that to his own brother...”

“And what can you tell us about the night that Draco Malfoy was allegedly killed by Harry Potter?” Rita Skeeter asked pointedly.

The tears which might only appear somewhat dubious to those who knew Ginny well dried up, and a very real flare of anger sparked in Wiz-Vision Ginny’s eyes as they narrowed.

“Harry wasn’t even there,” Ginny spat. “He was being held prisoner in the dungeon when that happened. I was with Daphne Greengrass and Fleur Delacour. We came across Draco Malfoy as he and his mates tried to rape Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet - Draco had been given permission by the Carrows to rape Gryffindor girls.

“When we stopped him, Draco Malfoy tried to kill us. We were only defending ourselves... and we didn’t really have a choice, as he was acting with authority given to him by the Minister herself. If he was still alive, I don’t doubt that being paraded naked in front of the school would have been the least of Susan Bones’ worries!” Ginny concluded.

“So, this then is our current Minister’s legacy,” said Rita Skeeter as she began her closing remarks. “Her dedication to ‘Law and Order’ going only as far as those laws she makes herself - laws which hearken back to a time of medievalism and savagery - wherein only the ‘noblest’ bloodlines have any rights, and children may be beaten within inches of their lives and raped if they belong to the ‘wrong’ families.

“...and if you are muggleborn in the Minister’s regime, then even beating and raping children is not the least of the punishments to be expected. Those of you who were watching several nights ago saw what the Minister’s administration is ultimately capable of - torture and mass murder on a scale which would make Grindelwald proud, and make Voldemort himself green with envy.”

At this point, quick-cuts from the footage of the raid on the Ministry’s Death-Camp flashed on the screen in a montage behind Rita as she continued to speak.

“Voldemort! ...” Rita’s eyes narrowed as she peered into the camera with earnest conviction, “the scourge of the wizard world who was finally defeated once and for all last summer by none other than the Boy-Who-Lived and the Headmaster who taught him! Voldemort... a Dark Wizard who thought nothing of murdering and raping children! A Dark Wizard whose many one-time supporters are now committing these very same acts again - these vile affronts to humanity - in the service of the Ministry!

“One might think that Voldemort himself had actually won and achieved his long-time objectives, given the Ministry’s current alignment and activities...” As she continued, Rita's voice began to rise with passion.

“And yet, there is one crucial difference - Minister Umbridge’s careful campaign of deception has achieved what Voldemort could not have done through terror alone... by convincing much of the wizarding public of the justification for such methods... by giving credence to the utter falsehood that the Pure of Blood are the victims... and through the LIE that the wizard world is in danger of extinction if drastic measures are not taken against the muggleborn... measures which threaten to extinguish the lives of those such as Harry Potter’s beloved wife.

“And THIS is what Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore stand against... they stand against the same horror and violence which they have always stood against, from the day that the Boy-Who-Lived brought an end to the first Wizard War, to the day that the Boy-Who-Lived ended Voldemort’s Second Reign of Terror!

“And now... now Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore mean to put an end to Voldemort’s Spirit, which lives on in Minister Umbridge’s Reign of Terror today! ... And if you stand against killing and raping children... if you stand against torture and mass-murder... then you must stand with them... you must stand with Harry Potter... and you must stand against the Minister and her corrupt regime!

“This is Rita Skeeter, reporting from Hogwarts, where the children are now safe, and the Spirit of Voldemort’s Ministry can no longer reach them!”

**~o0o~**

Minister Dolores Umbridge struggled mightily to contain her rage when the regularly scheduled programming resumed on the Wiz-Vision. She had wondered for months what had become of Skeeter, the best propagandist the Unspeakable Office had ever produced. Dolores had been beginning to think that someone had accidentally stepped on Rita Skeeter while she had been surreptitiously covering the Third Task... and now Dolores desperately wished that someone had.

The Minister’s deputy glanced at her, his freckles standing out against his ashen face. This response was the last thing that Percy had expected when he had imperiused Ron and made him go on the Wiz-Vision. And Percy instinctively knew that Ron’s lacklustre performance, and the stagey delivery of the WVN newscasters, couldn’t hold a candle to what he had just watched.

 **“Lies!”** Percy Weasley blurted out vehemently, as the colour rushed back into his cheeks. 

“Dumbledore obviously put Skeeter and Ginny up to it. He must have kidnapped Skeeter at the end of the Triwizard tournament, and... and he’s been brainwashing her ever since, just waiting for a chance to spin it all around and turn things back on us. We have to find out how they’re breaking into the broadcasts and put a stop to this, Dolores!”

“Indeed, Percy!” Dolores nodded, fuming as she spoke through grinding teeth. “I already have Unspeakables in the Research and Development division of the Department of Mysteries working on it around the clock...”

**~o0o~**

“Wow!” Parvati gasped. “Wow!” she repeated, unable to articulate anything but shock and awe at Rita’s devastatingly sincere and rousing presentation. The rest of the Coven had been rendered even more speechless as they sat gaping in silence.

Harry’s eyes bulged and his head was spinning as his world tilted. Even though he was perfectly aware that Skeeter had switched sides and was working with Luna’s father - and that she had even fought in the battle against Voldemort - it was still hard for him to process that this was the same woman who had blindsided him and Hermione over a year ago.

Harry was utterly flummoxed, and yet he also couldn’t help feeling a surge of excitement and giddiness. For the first time in his life, he felt ready to take up the mantle of the “Boy-Who-Lived,” not as a glorious title promising him fame and fortune, but as a promise to tyrants everywhere that their days were numbered.

Hermione was equally flabbergasted, but she couldn’t help feeling a thrill course through her as Rita’s electrifying rhetoric - backed up by the powerful on-screen evidence - fired up her senses.

Harry’s bewilderment only increased when he suddenly realised that Hermione was sitting on his lap, purring, affectionately nuzzling his neck and planting a big kiss on him.

“Wh...what’s going on?” Harry managed to gasp when Hermione’s lips wetly released his own. 

Hermione had to think about it for a moment. It was true that something about Rita Skeeter’s impassioned oratory had stirred her, but Hermione wasn’t quite certain why.

“Oh... of course!” said Hermione with a naughty golden gleam in her eyes when it hit her. “Arousal can be a sympathetic nervous system response to inciting rhetoric...”

“Yeah Harry,” Parvati giggled. “Skeeter’s speech was just exciting... Not to mention convincing!” Luna and Ginny both nodded vigorously.

“I’ll say,” Dora chortled. “Loads of people will be ready to fight the Ministry after that...”

“Oui, zat is so!” Fleur agreed.

“It certainly got my blood pumping,” said Daphne a bit breathily.

“Good,” said Jennifer, grinning as she grabbed Daphne’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “Because I think I’m ready for an early night of it...”


	68. Meet the Parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more explicit version of this chapter is now available in _Moments in Love: The Steamy Version._

Harry drew in a breath of crisp fresh winter air as he and Hermione traipsed through the snowy grounds of Jennifer’s estate. At nearly one hundred and fifteen acres of hill, much of it wooded, there was plenty of estate for a nice explore. The rest of the Coven were engaged in various activities after having spent a good part of the morning training with Ginny to accustom her to performing spells as a Coven.

Passing through a thick copse of evergreens, Harry and Hermione found a bit of bluff nearly untouched by snow just under the canopy of the trees on the other side. Even given the pearly grey skies, the view from the bluff was spectacular. The sea was visible in the distance one direction, and the snow covered ruins of Corfe Castle in the other. And much closer, the Potters could see the Church steeple and a bit of the village. 

Well bundled up against the cold, Harry and Hermione glanced at each other and smiled, then sat cross legged on a patch of ground covered in pine needles. Hermione leaned her head on Harry’s shoulder and sighed contentedly as he wrapped an arm around her. They sat like that for a good while, drinking in the beauty of the wintry landscape.

Harry let the peace wash over him, soothing even the parts of his soul where the shadows of recent events still lurked. He pressed his lips to the knitted cap which covered Hermione’s bushy hair and kissed it. Hermione snuggled even closer if possible and sighed happily again. Moments later, their lips met for a proper kiss.

When the kiss was finished, Harry’s eyes caught the church steeple again. The steeple stirred a deep yearning within, and for a moment he wasn’t sure why. Then he recalled the little cemetery behind the church and it struck him. 

He cleared his throat, feeling a bit like he had when he had asked McGonagall to let Hermione go to Hogsmeade in third year, despite the fact that Hermione’s parents hadn’t signed her form. Harry began tentatively, wondering if she would think it was too risky.

“Hermione?”

“Yes Harry?”

“Er... I was wondering... I... I really want to go to Godric’s Hollow - to visit my parents’ grave with you... maybe use the Resurrection Stone.” 

Hermione peered into Harry’s green eyes and bit her lip.

“I don’t know Harry,” she said after a moment passed. “Of _course_ I want to go with you, but I’m not sure that it would be safe for us. I would be surprised if the Minister _wasn’t_ staking out your parents’ house in Godric’s Hollow just in case you show up... And even if we both went disguised, there’s a good chance that we’d be detained anyway, just to see if we’re muggleborn.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah! You’re probably right Hermione. I guess I was sort of thinking the same thing... I just really want to go now. I’ve been feeling more ready for it since visiting Jennifer’s parents’ graves with her. And... and with, er... everything we’ve had to deal with recently, it’d be nice to actually see for myself that people really do go on after death.” 

“I’m sorry Harry.” Hermione smiled at him sympathetically. “Eventually we’ll get to Godric’s Hollow. I’m sure of it! But if you want to, you could use the Resurrection Stone anytime you like.”

“I thought about that actually. But - I’m not really sure why - it just seems right somehow to use it in Godric’s Hollow.”

“Well, I suppose that does make sense on some level - it was your home after all, where you were born and lived with your parents. And there’s a lot of history in Godric’s Hollow, Harry, as well as your own...” 

“Yeah!” Harry nodded. “It’s been ages since I’ve read it, but I remember from _A History of Magic_ : Godric Gryffindor, and the guy who created the Golden Snitch lived there... and Dumbledore told us that his family used to live there too.”

“And then there’s Bathilda Bagshot, who actually **wrote** _A History of Magic_ ,” said Hermione, grinning. For all that Harry complained about his memory and intellect not being as good as her own, Hermione mused again that Harry was far more intelligent than he gave himself credit for. 

Hermione thought back to the end of First Year, when Harry had pieced together all the bits that others had told him and worked out that he and Voldemort were connected, and that eventually Harry would have to kill Voldemort or be killed himself. 

That had been a brilliant and logical piece of deduction, based on his own recollections, and confirmed by Dumbledore’s revelation of the Prophecy. Of course Dumbledore had also pointed out that Prophecies were “a dubious business,” and most never fulfilled - most likely due to the increasing number of variables - the ever branching probabilities and roads not traveled - as the future unfolded. 

And it had turned out that Harry was more or less right, despite not knowing at the time that Voldemort’s obsession with him was due to a Prophecy. It only made sense logically that Voldemort would come after Harry time and time again if Voldemort had believed in the Prophecy, regardless of the truth of it. 

When it came right down to it, Hermione reckoned that Harry’s deductive reasoning skills had always been one of his biggest assets, besides his strong ability to visualise complex patterns, and his diligent study habits. 

Harry raised his eyebrows, regarding his wife’s amorous expression with bemusement. Despite himself, Harry couldn’t help beaming back at Hermione’s radiant features, her golden curls spilling out from under her knitted mauve cap and tumbling over her shoulders.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” he asked.

“Oh... er...” Hermione was slightly taken aback, not prepared for Harry’s question, not having quite realised that she was feeling a bit breathless and tingling with arousal - which was no doubt apparent to Harry. “I was just... er... thinking about how brilliant and smart you are,” she said, biting her lip and blushing furiously.

Still grinning at Hermione, Harry turned a bit pink. He couldn’t help feeling a swell of elation at Hermione’s unsolicited praises. Suddenly, without warning, Harry leaned in again and took Hermione’s lips with his own, kissing her steamily. 

Hermione’s spark of desire burst into flame and she fell back upon the bed of pine needles, pulling Harry atop her. 

Harry’s lips were so busily engaged, his own libido unchained, that it took him a moment to realise that Hermione was tugging off her jeans and knickers... which she was doing with some difficulty as Harry was blocking her way.

“Er... you sure about this Hermione. Wouldn’t you like to go inside? It’s starting to snow again.”

“This is perfect, Harry!” Hermione said curtly as she panted. “Now help me!”

Harry grinned again and grasped Hermione’s jeans and knickers which were rucked up near the top of her thighs. Moments later, the bottom half of Hermione was completely bare (excepting her thick woolen socks) and Harry was already administering his intimate affections. 

Hermione let out a little moan of pleasure, feeling a soaring sensation as if she were on the back of Harry’s broom. Moments later, Hermione’s back arched as she let out a squeal of delight, trembling blissfully. 

Harry continued his mission and Hermione peaked several more times, reaching new heights of ecstasy, losing herself to a churning storm of ardour. Hermione was too giddy to care that the clouds had darkened and the wind had come up, sending a flurry of snow into the hollow under the canopy of the evergreens. She returned Harry's affections wantonly. 

The tide of passion swept them away, eventually taking Harry and Hermione both. Hermione gasped, bursting ecstatically once more as Harry groaned. The magic exploded, crackling and arcing, lighting up the little alcove under the canopy of the trees. 

Hermione slumped on Harry in a blissful haze, and the pair faded into oblivion.

When Hermione came to, she felt a blast of cold air and snowflakes melting on her backside as a gust of wind drove the heavy snowfall into the otherwise sheltered clearing under the evergreens. Hermione shivered from the bitter cold, surprised that she wasn’t half-frozen until she remembered that she was still tattooed with the runes which prevented hypothermia and freezing to death.

She slid off Harry’s front and clambered to her feet, sighing to see the layer of snow on her jeans and knickers which lay on the pine needles and underbrush close to the edge of the tree canopy. 

Harry stirred and sat up, grinning at his wife, unable to help feeling another swell of arousal at the sight of Hermione standing there bottomless next to her snowy jeans and underwear. Hermione blushed at his intense gaze, feeling a little thrill herself. 

“Too bad Hermione,” Harry chortled. “You’ll just have to hang them up on a branch for a bit and wait. I’ll keep you warm until they dry.” 

Hermione smirked and rolled her eyes, half-tempted. There was something strangely exhilarating about the otherwise embarrassing idea of being nude outside in inclement weather with “no other choice” but to wait for clothes to dry. 

“Don’t be silly Harry!” she said as she picked up her knickers and shook off the snow. “I’ll just perform a drying charm.”

Hermione giggled when Harry gave her an exaggerated look of disappointment.

“Alright... _Fine!”_ said Hermione, rolling her eyes again, secretly giving in to her own desires. “But only if you get naked too. I’m not going to freeze my arse off by myself.”

“Done!” exclaimed Harry, grinning again as he yanked off his jeans and boxers. And just to show how much he was willing to share in Hermione’s “predicament” he chucked them out into the snow as well...

**~o0o~**

Minister Umbridge took a sip of tea, considering her options carefully. There had to be a response to Dumbledore’s pirate broadcast of course. The most suitable narrative was that of Dumbledore’s past, previously published in the pages of the _Daily Prophet_ , perhaps presented in a documentary format on the Wiz-Vision. That should help muddy the waters in the minds of the public.

Satisfied with her plan, the Minister took another sip of tea and peered at her list again. The next item on her agenda was what to do about the Dementors. The Ministry had been most fortunate that there had been no scheduled Feeding for the Dementors the night of Dumbledore’s attack upon the Ministry’s Welsh Detention Centre, as Bellatrix had been working at one of the other facilities. Had the Dementors been at that location, Dumbledore would have no doubt destroyed them with his Secret Weapon. 

At the moment, the Dementors had returned to the ruins of Azkaban, awaiting the call for another Feeding - sucking out the souls of those that Bellatrix had finished torturing while she prepared herself to kill the prisoners and turn them into Inferi. And twice a week, the Minister had allowed the Dementors to take their leave of Azkaban to roam Britain and Feed from the ambient emotions of the general public. 

All things considered, it might be best to disallow the regularly scheduled Soul Feedings at the detention centres, instead giving the Dementors carte blanche to leave Azkaban and rove Britain at will, drawing their sustenance from the emotions of the public as needed. At least then the Dementors wouldn’t all be gathered in one location, presenting themselves as an easy target. They could still be called to the facilities in small groups on an impromptu basis to Feed on Souls whenever Bellatrix was ready with a new batch of broken detainees.

Confident that she had resolved another problem, Minister Umbridge moved on to the next item on her list. The Ministry needed a means of instantaneous communication to coordinate Unspeakables and Aurors engaged in the field. Owls and Memos sent through the Floo System were wholly inadequate for communicating with those in the field conducting operations. It was long past time for the wizarding world to take another step forward, technologically speaking.

Noting the irony, the Minister sighed as she scribbled a memo to send to the Unspeakable Office ordering the procurement of muggle communications devices - specifically, two-way radios and mobile phones - and the immediate formation of a research project to develop equivalent magically based devices. This was a top priority. 

Finally, Minister Umbridge scowled as she looked over the reports of several skirmishes between Ministry officials and wizards resisting the registration process. The damage from Dumbledore’s propaganda was already taking effect; more people were digging in and fighting back instead of simply running away and hiding. Hopefully countering Dumbledore’s propaganda would ameliorate some of that...

**~o0o~**

She wasn’t sure how long they would be in Brazil, but Madam Amelia Bones was beginning to wish she had brought her anti-sunburn ointment as she followed the head of the ICW Committee for the Investigation of Statutory Violations and another senior member of the committee, and an assortment of large wizards in crisp, black muggle business suits and dark sunglasses.

They were all in turn following the Brazilian Minister of Magic and his assistant through a crowded beachfront street towards a less populated stretch of the sandy seashore which appeared to have been roped off for VIP’s.

Madam Bones felt a momentary measure of relief from the heat when they passed under the canopy of a Cabana with an open bar. A few musical notes caught Amelia’s ear as she dabbed at her sweaty forehead with her hanky. Amelia glanced at the band playing a bossa nova on a platform by an outside patio at the other end of the Cabana.

“There he is,” said the Brazilian Minister of Magic, gesturing at a stretch of sand halfway between the Cabana and the waterline, “ Minister Tsuchinoko. Just follow me...”

**~o0o~**

The Japanese Minister of Magic drank in the rays of the heavenly sunlight as he sunned himself on the golden sands of a beautiful stretch of beach not far from Rio de Janeiro, nursing a cocktail with a tiny umbrella sticking out of the glass, his eyes closed. Several sultry young witches - who might as well have been naked for all that their barely-there-bikinis covered the most intimate parts of their plentiful assets - cooed and giggled as they nuzzled, kissed, and caressed him, their fingers and lips trailing along the lines of his elaborate colourful tattoos.

He was basking in the glow of glorious victory. The Japanese International Quidditch team had resoundingly defeated the Brazilian team in their own home stadium the night before, and now he was enjoying the fruits of their Win. His Brazilian hosts had been very gracious indeed, putting him up in their ritziest resort for VIP’s, and making their sexiest Companion-Witches available to him - completely free of charge.

A shadow loomed over the Japanese Minister, blocking the sun, and the tittering of the witches went silent as their soft touch fell away from his skin. The Minister opened his eyes to see what had interrupted his pleasure. He frowned in puzzlement when he spied the Brazilian Minister of Magic peering down at him with a thin smile on his lips.

“Ramón... is this important? Is there a problem?”

“That remains to be seen, Asahara,” the Brazilian Minister replied. “I am merely here to facilitate a meeting. I hope you can forgive me...”

The Japanese Minister clambered to his feet, groaning inwardly, a knot of trepidation forming in his gut when he saw the delegation from the ICW striding across the sand towards him. His two bodyguards scowled, but he kept his own features neutral, unwilling to show weakness.

“I must apologise, my friend,” the Brazilian Minister continued, raising his eyebrows. “But the duties of my station come first - I cannot flout International Law. I suggest that you cooperate fully.”

“But of course...” Tsuchinoko Asahara muttered. He bowed stiffly towards the stern German Witch approaching with another member of her committee, a number of large grim-looking, impeccably groomed wizards wearing dark sunglasses and black muggle suits, and a dour square-jawed witch with a monocle.

“Dame Machschnell, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Minister Tsuchinoko!” Angelika Machschnell returned, politely bowing to the Japanese Minister. “Madam Olubunmi Ogoba the Nigerian delegate to ze ICW - I believe you are both already acquainted. And zis is Madam Bones - formerly Head of ze British Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

“Ve are here on a fact-finding mission, and I am hoping that you can tell me vot these vere doing at ze bottom of the Black Lake... They vere discovered after an attempt on Harry Potter’s life during the Tri-Vizard tournament, and recently passed along to our committee... ”

The Head of the ICW Committee for the Investigation of Statutory Violations narrowed her eyes shrewdly as one of the black-suited International Aurors accompanying her opened a briefcase. Sure enough, despite Minister Tsuchinoko’s determination to maintain his composure, a slight twitch in the corner of his right eye gave away his recognition of the items, two sais and a throwing star etched with an intricate design.

Another International Auror opened a second briefcase, with somewhat morbid contents: a well preserved severed hand which had formerly been attached to a kappa.

Despite his increasing angst, Minister Tsuchinoko took some satisfaction in the knowledge that there was nothing which tied him directly to the kappa assassination team which he had recommended to Minister Umbridge.

**~o0o~**

Dora yawned as the filtered grey light of a wintry dawn heralded the arrival of another January morning. The snow was coming down heavily again, piling up on the terrace just on the other side of the French doors. She smiled to herself, sighing in contentment, feeling cozy as she snuggled next to Fleur. But after a while, she reckoned it was time to get up.

As Dora shifted, she felt a soft warm hand stirring, and Fleur’s silvery lashes fluttered open. Fleur leaned over and gave Dora a wet kiss.

“Bonjour Dora,” whispered Fleur, an eager gleam in her eye. “I also am awake - per’aps you would like some company in ze shower?”

“Er... yeah,” Dora grinned, “that sounds smashing Fleur. Just gimme a minute first.”

A few minutes later, as the steam rose, Dora and Fleur soaped each other under the hot spray of water. Soon, gasps and moans of delight could be heard over the thrum of the falling water. The pair of young witches both cried out ecstatically, bringing one another to completion.

As they toweled each other off after the shower, there was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Is Dora in there?” asked a muffled voice which sounded very much like Hermione’s.

“It’s alright, you can come in,” said Dora without thinking. 

“Would you care to join us?” Fleur tittered when she saw Hermione’s bushy head peeking around the door.

“Oh... er... _What?”_ Hermione sputtered, eyes boggling, reddening with embarrassment as she gaped at the two nude, dripping witches with towels in their hands.

“Sorry Hermione,” said Dora, quickly wrapping her towel around herself. “I just lost my mind for a minute...”

“And I was just teasing,” purred Fleur, who looked like she hadn’t been teasing at all.

“It... it’s quite alright,” Hermione said faintly, trying to ignore the flutter in her middle. “I just came because Sirius is on the mirror for Dora...”

“Oh, alright then,” said Dora, looking slightly puzzled. “Ta Hermione... Tell Sirius I’ll be there in half a tick.”

“Got it,” Hermione replied. “I’ll... er... just be going then.” 

Hermione quickly shut the bathroom door and made her way back to the parlour, her face still aflame. Harry looked up with a bemused expression when he spied Hermione’s crimson features.

“What’s up Hermione?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Hermione muttered before leaning in and whispering in Harry’s ear. “I’d really like to play with Harriet tonight.”

Harry grinned. “No problem Hermione. So, is Dora on her way?”

“She’ll be here in just a moment...”

**~o0o~**

“Blimey!” Dora chortled after Hermione left the steamy bathroom. “ _‘Would you care to join us?’_ ... Really Fleur?”

“And if ‘Ermione had accepted my offer, you would be so disappointed?” Fleur raised her eyebrows and peered at Dora knowingly. Dora flushed and squirmed a bit, her giggles abating.

“Well, she’s married for one thing... bit young... more or less family,” Dora mumbled, not quite meeting Fleur’s eye. “And you and me...”

“...would ‘ave lots of fun, non?” Fleur tittered. “Per’aps if ‘Arriet likes, she may join in too?”

Dora tried desperately to put all such thoughts out of her head as she quickly threw on a pair of jeans and an artfully torn _Blondie_ t-shirt. But when she entered the parlour, there was Hermione, sitting on a sofa next to Harry. 

Harry glanced back and forth between Hermione and Dora, who had inexplicably both blushed and quickly avoided each others’ eyes when they spotted each other. 

“The mirror’s on the coffee table Dora,” said Harry, standing up and taking Hermione by the arm. “We’ll just leave you to it then.”

Hermione and Dora both gave Harry a grateful look, and both blushed again when they caught each other’s eyes once more. Dora waited until they had both departed the room and took a deep breath to clear her head before picking up the mirror...

**~o0o~**

“Okay Hermione... Spill! What was _that_ all about?”

“I... er... I walked in on Fleur and Dora together - by accident - they’d just got out of the shower...” Hermione trailed off, leaving it there and hoping that Harry wouldn’t press for more.

Harry smirked a bit, knowing that there must be a bit more to the story. Hermione wouldn’t even look him in the eye; her face was still as red as a fire-engine, and it seemed significant that she wanted him to be Harriet tonight...

**~o0o~**

Dora lifted the mirror from the shiny spotless coffee table and Sirius’s grinning face came into view.

“Mornin’ Sirius! What’s up?”

“Sorry about this Dora!” The grin was replaced with an apologetic smile. “I’m actually just acting as secretary. There’s someone else here who’d really like a chat with you...”

Dora flushed and groaned inwardly when her parents both appeared in the mirror. She had been hoping to put this off until she had worked out a way to tell her parents that Harry had promised to pay her way until she got her cartoons or music off the ground once this was all over.

“Nymphadora , you look positively radiant,” her mother gushed effusively, taking Dora by surprise. Her father’s face was right next to mum’s, but there was something a bit goofy about his grin when he said, “Hi Sweetie.”

“Oh... er... Hi Mum, Dad!” said Dora, puzzlement crossing her features. “So... What’s goin’ on?”

“Darling, it would be simply _delightful_ if you could visit us tonight,” Dora’s mother beamed. “You can bring your girlfriend. It would be lovely to meet her finally.”

“...Oh... and maybe the Potters would like to join us too,” Dora’s mother added nonchalantly, as if the thought had just occurred to her.

Okay, now Dora _**knew**_ something was going on! Calling Dora by the hated moniker “Nymphadora” was typical Mum, but Mum almost never ‘gushed effusively’ or ‘beamed’ at anyone unless something was up, and it was as clear as a bell that Mum and Dad were both eager to meet the Potters. Dora bit her lip and her eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion.

“Er... I’ll ‘ave to check with Harry and Hermione. But I s’pose if they’re game...”

“Oh, _wonderful_ dear!” said her mother enthusiastically. “We shall be dining precisely at seven - just the six of us. So you don’t have to dress too formally...” 

Which really meant, “Please dress up and don’t wear your usual rags,” to Dora’s ears; she turned pink when she remembered what she was wearing.

“...Anyway dear, I can’t _wait_ to see you and Fleur and your friends this evening,” her mother continued. “Bye for now! Please don’t be late.”

“Bye Love,” said Dora’s father, who looked relieved that he hadn’t had to say anything. “See you tonight.”

**~o0o~**

Harry and Hermione both let out sighs of relief when they managed to land on their feet upon their arrival on Black Manor’s front lawn via Portkey with Fleur and Dora. They were all dressed up spiffily (Hermione had helped Harry transfigure some of his clothes with the assistance of Parvati’s and Daphne’s fashion sense), and Harry for some reason felt like he had when he’d almost met Hermione’s father in Diagon Alley.

Harry couldn’t quite get over the impression that he would be under scrutiny, sized up for approval by the parents. But for the life of him, Harry couldn’t work out why. He thought Hermione looked a bit perplexed as well.

Feeling a knot of dread in the pit of her stomach, Dora peered awkwardly at Fleur and the Potters’ anxious faces as they all waded through the snow towards the front door of Narcissa Black’s manor from the portkey arrival site.

“I’m not really sure what’s goin’ on. Sorry guys...” Dora started to say.

“It’s alright Dora,” Harry interjected, making a feeble attempt at putting on a brave face. “I’m really looking forward to meeting your parents,” he fibbed. Perhaps under other circumstances it might have been true, but Dora’s growing anxiety rang alarm bells in Harry’s brain. 

“This will be lovely, really!” said Hermione, doing her best to look like she meant it. Like Harry, Hermione couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this visit than a casual dinner with a friend and her parents. The whole situation had a distinct “meet-the-parents” vibe. 

“Oui, mon amour. All shall be well,” Fleur said to Dora, wondering who she was trying to convince more - herself, or Dora. For Fleur, there was no question about it, this was her moment to either impress her girlfriend's parents or fall flat on her face.

They were greeted at the door warmly by Narcissa Black and invited in. Narcissa led them to the parlour in which Andromeda and Ted Tonks awaited the arrival of their daughter. Out of the corner of her eye, Dora spotted Clara and her sister Gemma in one of the other parlours. Clara seemed to be consoling her sister, who looked like she’d been crying.

Thoughts of the Dawson sisters quickly evaporated as Dora approached the entryway and spied her beaming parents on the other side in a small cozy looking parlour with a roaring fire in the hearth. She swallowed nervously as she entered the room.

“Hi Mum, Dad... This is Fleur...” Dora began a round of introductions.

“How lovely to finally meet you, Fleur!” said Mrs Tonks, pulling her into a big hug.

“You as well, Madame Tonks,” Fleur gasped, trying to catch a breath in the tight embrace of Dora's mother.

Harry wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers before shaking Mr Tonks’ hand, his heart thumping in his ears. Harry felt somewhat relieved that Mr Tonks seemed happy to meet him. But this time it was the frankly appraising looks he was getting from Mrs Tonks which unnerved Harry the most. 

There was definitely something weird going on.

Hermione shared a bewildered look with Harry, having picked up on the puzzling sense of hopefulness from Dora’s mother when Mrs Tonks had swept her into a hug as well.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” said Mrs Tonks cheerily. “Dinner should be served momentarily, but in the meantime, perhaps some wine?”

“Er...Oui, zat sounds vairy nice,” said Fleur, who looked even more anxious than the Potters. Fleur couldn’t be happier to take a few gulps of the French Chardonnay, hoping it would settle her nerves. 

Everyone settled in around the little dining table near the window and began chatting amiably about the most innocuous of things while awaiting the arrival of dinner as some light classical music played in the background. 

When it arrived, Madam Black’s house-elf served up a fantastic meal, easily worthy of Dobby or the elves at Hogwarts. On his second glass of wine, Harry began to relax, his thoughts drifting as the voices around him faded. 

He found himself ruminating on the plight of house-elves again. Wizards of means just took them for granted, when house-elves deserved so much more considering how much they provided for those they served. They at the very least deserved to be able to choose who to work for, and to not be forced magically to obey. It was a place to start anyway.

It was still hard for Harry to reconcile the utter complacency most house-elves felt about their enslavement. Harry had looked up Stockholm Syndrome after Hermione had mentioned it not so long ago, and he reckoned that she was right. 

He thought about how unhappy and frightened Winky had seemed at the World Cup, belying her protestations of delight at serving her master. Harry supposed there really wasn’t anything wrong with her working for Crouch - she really seemed to love him. But she deserved to be treated fairly and kindly, like any sentient being. 

It wasn’t right that not only was she forced to obey orders which terrified her, she wasn’t even allowed to acknowledge the validity of her own feelings about it. Harry was more determined than ever that one day he and Hermione would somehow work out how to get house-elves more rights without upsetting them...

“...Harry?”

“Hunh?” Harry suddenly snapped out of it when he realised that Mr Tonks was addressing him with an odd gleam in his eyes. Harry glanced at the empty second glass of wine in his hand and decided that he’d had enough. 

“Er... Sorry Mr Tonks! What were you saying?”

“Too many distractions, eh?” Mr Tonks said to Harry with a roguish wink. 

Dora stopped half-listening to her mother’s gossip, her cheeks turning pink when she heard her father’s off-hand comment. Her chest tightened. Oh no! Here it comes, she thought.

Harry was simply confused. _Distractions?_ Somehow Harry didn’t think Mr Tonks meant absentmindedly pondering future plans for liberating house-elves. And what was with the winking? There was only one thing which made sense. But surely Mr Tonks wasn’t implying...

“So my Dora tells me you actually used your metamorphmagus skills to navigate the Second Task, not Gillyweed,” Mr Tonks continued, looking really impressed. “That takes some real focus, that does. Your Intent must be off the charts!”

“Er... Maybe, I suppose!” Harry replied tentatively with a nervous grin, wondering where this was all leading. “I mean... Sure, it took a _bit_ of focus, but I wouldn’t say it was ‘off-the-charts.’”

“...And so humble.” Mrs Tonks beamed at Hermione. “My dear, your husband is simply delightful!”

Dora’s eyes widened, her breath quickening as panic began scratching wildly at the door to her brain like a terrified puppy frightened of an approaching storm. 

Hermione was at a loss. She suddenly felt like she was at a cocktail party in an old black and white film.

“Er... Yes! Harry’s the best!” Hermione squeaked with a slightly strained smile, cringing at the sound of her voice and the lameness of her response.

“And an up and coming quidditch champion perhaps, from what I hear,” chimed in Mr Tonks.

“...And quite a potioneer from what Severus tells us,” added Mrs Tonks. She turned and gave Hermione a look that was both meaningful, and almost uncomfortably warm. “Indeed he tells us you are both some of the most exceptional students he has ever had the pleasure of working with...”

Hermione and Harry both dropped their forks at the same time and gaped, unable to imagine Snape ever using the terms “exceptional students” and “pleasure” in the same sentence. There was no doubt about it now. Mrs Tonks was clearly buttering them up for something.

Dora hid her blazing face in her hands, knowing that the dam was about to burst. 

Fleur watched with great interest, the corners of her mouth twitching with mirth, free to enjoy the show now that her own interrogation was over.

Apparently oblivious to all of the expressions and gesticulations of her guests, Mrs Tonks cheerfully barreled on.

“...I can imagine that you’ll both make _wonderful_ parents one day!” Mrs Tonks sighed wistfully. “With your talents, I have no doubt that you’ll both have your pick of careers, providing stability and comfort for your children...”

Dora audibly groaned through the hands still covering her face. 

The Potters were now simply stunned into silence. Children was the last thing on their minds; both of them were thrilled at the efficacy of the wizard world’s Contraception Charms and Potions. 

“I miss children,” said Mrs Tonks. “Metamorphmagus children can certainly be a handful, but more fun than you can possibly imagine. You might both find that out some day. I hear that the talent actually runs through some families from one generation to the next. 

“Anyway, You should have seen our little Nymphadora, such a cherubic little angel and wicked devil all rolled into one. We have some pictures somewhere, in one of our suitcases...”

“Muuuuum!” groaned Dora. 

“...I had hoped that one day another little one would join our family.” Mrs Tonks let out another wistful sigh. “Of course that’s just me being selfish though.” She gave her daughter an affectionate motherly look. “I only want my Nymphadora to be happy...”

Dora felt like slamming her head into the table and knocking herself out so she wouldn’t have to listen any more.

“...And I know how happy Fleur makes her...” Mrs Tonks shot Fleur a winning smile. 

Dora winced ahead of the bombshell she knew her mother was about to drop.

“...And it’s obvious how happy _**you two**_ make her as well...”

There it was!

 **“Mum!”** Dora said sharply, dropping her hands from her face to glare at her mother.

The Potters could only continue to listen in horrified fascination, their eyes popping. Fleur covered her mouth, struggling to hold back the laughter.

“...And please don’t worry yourselves that Ted and I won’t understand your relationship with our daughter and Fleur. We are both quite accepting of alternative lifestyles...”

“MUM!” Dora shouted. “That’s enough...”

“...and I can’t tell you both just how happy I am to have a new hope that I may yet have a grandchild,” Mrs Tonks concluded, beaming more cheerfully than ever.

“Wait... You mean... me... I... ” Harry sputtered, finally finding his voice as his head spun, unable to fully comprehend that this was really happening. But Harry’s attempt to clarify whether he was dreaming or not was interrupted.

“OH MY GOD!” Dora fumed. “Shut UP! Harry and Hermione are JUST FRIENDS! I can’t believe you Mum! Where’s this all coming from? Dad, _**please**_ tell me you’re not in on this...”

“Why, if it weren’t for your father dear, it might have escaped me completely.” Mrs Tonks gave her daughter a sympathetic smile. “Those photos of the Potters and Fleur from the end of the second task - and there you are in some of the photos, right behind them grinning like a little monkey... your closeness with the Potters... your trip to London all together with Fleur... It all makes sense now, and I couldn’t be happier for you!”

 _ **“Please**_ stop, Mum!” Dora moaned, glancing at Harry apologetically, then sharing a desperate look with Hermione, and Fleur who was still valiantly fighting a fit of giggles. Mrs Tonks' comments were hitting uncomfortably close to home after the awkwardness between the three young witches that morning; Hermione’s features appeared to be in a race to catch up to Dora’s in redness. 

Harry caught the looks and the rosy cheeks. Wondering what the hell had actually happened during the Shower Incident that morning, Harry slumped in his seat and groaned, resigned to whatever fate the Universe had in store for him. 

“Now dears, there’s really no need for all of you to make such a fuss or hide it from us,” Mrs Tonks said kindly, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “The love you all share is as plain as day now that I see you all together...”

“Oh God! You’re not going to give up are you?” Dora rolled her eyes and threw her arms up in exasperation. “Okay... _**fine!**_ Believe whatever you want to believe! I’ve ‘ad enough of this...” Dora pushed back her chair and stood up. “I think I’m ready t’go home now. ‘Ow about you guys?”

“Er... yeah!” Harry couldn’t scramble to his feet fast enough. “Er... thanks for dinner!” he said to Dora’s parents.

“It was lovely to meet you both!” Hermione squeaked, wincing again at the sound of her own voice. 

“Madame, Monsieur Tonks!” Fleur stood up gracefully and curtsied, a beatific smile on her face. “Thank you so much for your ‘ospitality.”

“Yeah! Thanks for dinner Mum, Dad!” said Dora in a weary, defeated tone of voice. “Love you both!”

Ted and Andromeda Tonks both sighed happily as their daughter departed from the parlour with her companions. Andromeda took out a hanky and dabbed the tears of joy glistening on her cheeks.

“Oh Ted! I think it might really happen. We might really get a grandchild one day!”

“Eh? What’d I tell you then? You believe me now, don’tcha?” Ted waggled his eyebrows at his wife and grinned. “Now that you’ve seen ‘em... ”

“You were right Ted,” Andromeda sniffled. “It’s so obvious when you see them all together. I just... I still can’t get over how much Nymphadora seems so at home with all of them - even Harry Potter.

“I never thought I’d ever see our daughter look at a young man like she looks at her girlfriends. It’s his eyes - you saw them didn’t you Ted? Harry Potter’s eyes? ... They’re just too pretty for words...”

Ted raised his eyebrows and smirked a bit at his wife.

**~o0o~**

“Bloody Hell! I can’t believe it!” Harry muttered as the four of them trudged back through the snow to the portkey departure point, his face blazing like a furnace. “I can’t bloody believe it!” he repeated.

Harry peered beseechingly at Dora. “Your mum actually wants me to get you _**pregnant?**_ ... I’m only fifteen!” 

Dora hid her face in her hands, moaning, “I’m so sorry Harry! I swear... I ‘ad no idea that was gonna happen!”

Fleur was laughing uncontrollably now that she was outside and no longer had to restrain herself; she was laughing so hard that she had to stop and clutch at a stitch in her side. 

Hermione felt all of a jumble - finding herself torn between laughter, embarrassment, and anxiety. She gave Harry a sympathetic smile and curled an arm around his waist...

**~o0o~**

Amelia Bones adjusted her monocle while Dumbledore poured them both a cup of tea in his office. She had spent two days in Brazil and was eager to get things under way. After taking a few sips of tea, Amelia began.

“It was quite apparent that the Japanese Minister of Magic knew much more than he let on. Unfortunately, the ICW does not have enough to charge him with any crimes, nor to compel him to reveal any more information about Dolores’s connection to the Kappa Kill Team.”

“That is a shame indeed,” Dumbledore sighed and nodded. “But not entirely unexpected.”

“Quite!” Madam Bones replied drily. “However, he did not deny the connection outright, but rather, indicated that Dolores may have approached wizards associated with the Yakuza for referral to the assassins... which is nonsense of course!”

“Of course!” agreed Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. Amelia was thoroughly in her element when engaged in uncovering a mystery.

“I have no doubt that Minister Tsuchinoko himself provided Dolores with the contacts necessary for hiring the Kill Team,” Amelia continued. “Regardless, he at least gave us enough to track down the assassins sent to kill Mr Potter. Once the International Auror Office has them in hand, the assassins should be able to provide direct evidence that Dolores - or someone closely associated with her - hired them.

“The evidence collected by the Potters and their friends is being sifted through by the Committee. The most damning of all, will of course be the direct testimony being provided by those imprisoned at the compound... I will be taking a trip to Japan for the next few days to follow up the leads on the Kappa, but Kingsley and I will be heading to Brussels again next week, this time with Ms Mason to provide evidence of collusion with the muggle Prime Minister. If all goes to plan, the Committee will be able to bring a Motion to the floor of the ICW to issue an International Arrest Warrant for Dolores within the next four to six weeks.”

Satisfaction crossed Dumbledore’s countenance as he listened to Amelia’s report.

“Excellent!” he said with another nod. “In the meantime, we can continue to focus our own efforts on countering the Minister’s forces here at home...”


	69. Twelfth Night

Dora and Harry resignedly faced the roars of laughter which they had been expecting upon regaling the rest of the Coven with the details of dinner with Dora’s parents. Luna, Ginny, and Parvati couldn’t stop giggling. 

“So your parents really think that you and Fleur are bonking Harry and Hermione - all together at the same time?” Jennifer chortled, shaking her head in amazement. “And they’re _**alright**_ with it?” 

“That’s about the size of it!” Dora sighed. She smirked sardonically when an amusing thought occurred to her. “We might as well’ve all had a _real_ Coven orgy for all they’d care if they knew what we were actually gettin’ up to.” 

Fleur nodded, tittering.

“...And your mum really wants you and Harry to give her a **_grandchild?”_** Daphne squeaked, peering sympathetically at Dora and Harry. “But even if Harry weren’t already married, and if Hermione was alright with it - and even if you were actually interested in guys, he’s a bit young to be a father isn’t he?”

“That’s what I said,” Harry grumbled. 

Dora glanced at Fleur and Hermione and gave Harry another apologetic look. 

“I’m sorry again that you lot had to get in the middle of that! ... Especially you Harry! If it helps, Mum was actually directing most of that at me Harry, not really you... See, only half that little speech was new,” Dora sighed, rolling her eyes wearily. 

“Well, maybe 2/3 of it,” she went on, “but the core of it, that’s Mum’s same old woe-is-me story about ‘ow she’ll never have grandchildren, but she loves me anyway... I’ve heard some version of it on a semi-regular basis ever since I came out to Mum and Dad at fourteen.

“It’s her way of guilt tripping me - constantly remindin’ me of what she’s sacrificing to support my ‘alternative lifestyle.’ ... It’s true that Mum supports ‘alternate lifestyles’ in theory - she’s great like that. Mum and Dad both are, but when it’s applied to _**me,**_ it’s a bit more complicated. 

“Mum’s supportive enough of me bein’ ‘oo I am for the most part, I suppose... but she still doesn’t really quite get it - get me. You and Hermione get me way better than she does...”

Dora turned slightly pink and hesitated a moment, distracted by a stray thought which she decided might be better if edited. It suddenly struck Dora that perhaps her mother’s perceptions might not be wholly inaccurate. 

“...Anyway,” she continued, trying to bury that thought, “the point is that even though she’s sorta got her hopes up about you bein’ a part of this supposedly new bisexual, orgy filled version of my ‘lifestyle,’ - allegedly - Harry, you could be almost any guy who’s not a Blood Purist and Mum would be excited about you bein’ in on it. 

“And as far as she’s concerned, it doesn’t really matter how old you are _now,_ or how many other girls are in on it as long as we... er... you and me.... erm.... as long as we get around to shagging _eventually_ and she gets a grandkid out of the deal...” 

Dora trailed off, her pink features taking on a distinctly deeper hue of red, unable to help picturing it.

Harry shook his head in wonderment. He couldn’t stop himself briefly imagining what it might be like making a baby with Dora someday... after he and Hermione had their own of course. And of course, given all of the “foursome” talk it was impossible not to picture Fleur in on the action too. Harry tried his best to unsee his imaginings and glanced at Hermione, swallowing guiltily. 

For some reason, Hermione flushed and looked a bit sheepish. Harry supposed it was because she was still embarrassed about walking in on Dora and Fleur that morning. Then Harry remembered that Hermione had requested a “date” with Harriet after the Shower Incident that morning and felt a little less guilty.

“What can I say?” Dora sighed when she found her voice again. “Mum just really wants a grandkid some day, and me... I’m just not really the havin’ a baby type o’ girl. Though I suppose anything’s possible in the long run... She always seems to bring it up right around my birthday for some reason...”

“Your birthday?” said Harry, frowning in puzzlement. “So when is it then?”

Hermione gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth in shock. “Dora, we’ve known you for a year now. We must have missed your last one and nobody told us...”

Fleur arched her eyebrows questioningly at her girlfriend. The giggles died down as the rest of the Coven eyed Dora. 

Dora reddened. “Er... yeah! Sorry ‘bout that. I just hate makin’ a big deal out of it! ... It’s comin’ up in a couple of days - on the fifth. It’s the twelfth day o’ Christmas... which Sirius finds hilarious for some reason...”

Hermione was glad that she hadn’t taken that sip of butterbeer which she had been thinking of taking. Spit-take avoided, Hermione tried to pretend that she hadn’t just lurched in her seat, her eyes a-popping. 

Too late! All heads swiveled, their own eyes falling upon Hermione.

“Er... It... it’s a play from Shakespeare,” she explained, peering sympathetically at Dora, “...a play called _Twelfth Night_. Sirius must have read it or seen it. It’s a comedy about a love triangle. One of the main characters happens to be a girl disguised as a man who becomes the object of another woman’s affections...”

“Oh!” Dora rolled her eyes while Fleur tittered. “I get it! Because I’m a metamorphmagus and a lesbian to boot! Yeah! Really funny!” she said sarcastically. “If you come up with any witty Shakespeare zingers I can get Sirius back with, I’d be really grateful Hermione.”

“I’ll see what I can come up with,” said Hermione with a hint of a smirk.

“Hmm... Sirius, is he truly so wrong, Cherie?” Fleur asked Dora pointedly. “Are you not ze object of my affections?”

“Well...er... yeah!” Dora blushed under Fleur’s intensely adoring gaze. “True! It’s just the principle of the thing - Sirius teasin’ me like that. One good turn deserves another, right Harry?”

“Absolutely!” Harry agreed with a grin. 

“Anyway Dora, maybe we find some ozzer way to grant the wish of your Maman,” said Fleur consolingly, giggling as she gave Dora a wink. “Per’aps some day, I may carry _your_ baby, Cherie, non?”

Dora’s eyebrows popped up; she hadn’t even considered that as a possibility...

**~o0o~**

Once in bed, Dora lay awake in the dark snuggled right up against Fleur’s backside, curling an arm around her waist. Fleur stirred, settling into Dora’s warm embrace and letting out a contented sigh. Dora couldn’t help thinking about her life - about who she was, what she really wanted... If Mum had hoped to get Dora to take stock of herself it was working, though perhaps not quite in the way she had intended.

That whole business with Fleur and Hermione that morning was one thing, and Dora would have been perfectly happy to write it all off as a laugh and a bit of a silly fantasy. Sure, of course it would be a bit of a lark if she and Fleur had a romp with Hermione and Harriet; Dora couldn’t deny that she’d liked the Potters from the moment she’d met them and been attracted to Hermione right from the start. 

And Harriet... well, that was the interesting story which was at the centre of what was now making Dora question everything, and making it impossible to write it all off as just a laugh, or to write off her mother’s comments as wholly without merit.

Dora had never really questioned the fact that she was a girl who liked other girls, and she hadn’t really given it much thought that she had found herself attracted to Harriet as well as Hermione. What was odd now that she thought about it again, was that the connection was there regardless of Harry’s physical gender, and had been since she’d met him. 

It had been more than a bit confusing and unsettling to admit to herself that she had some feelings for a bloke. Dora had suspected it had something to do with Harry’s pretty green eyes, and when the idea that Harry might have a female soul behind them had come up, it had all made sense finally.

But now it was all topsy-turvy again. 

Not because of Harry at all really, but now because Dora wasn’t so sure of herself anymore. Dora had always thought of herself as a girl, but she had recently taken up Fleur’s suggestion to “try something new” in bed together, and found that she quite enjoyed it - a lot. 

It had taken a bit of time and effort, but after diligent study of anatomical charts and photographs Dora had worked out how to craft herself a male appendage which Fleur assured her looked perfect. And judging from Dora’s responses on the first few “test runs” with Fleur, the nerve endings and the plumbing seemed all in order. 

If Dora wasn’t much of a “Mum” sort, maybe she was more of a “Dad” sort? Putting aside the exciting implications that Fleur’s comment held for the future of their relationship - and providing that all the biological components worked properly - Dora couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have a kid with Fleur as long as Dora didn’t have to be the “mummy.”

The whole business with the pond and Hermione’s story about Hermaphroditus had been too ironic... almost as ironic as Dora’s birthday being on Twelfth Night.

Now Dora wondered if the only reason she had liked girls all along was because she was really a guy inside; she was no longer sure if she was meant to be a guy or a girl. Dora had quite enjoyed being (more or less) a guy with Fleur and it was becoming a regular thing; it felt completely natural to her. Maybe Dora had a male soul like Harry had a female one? 

But then why did Dora still more or less feel like a girl most of the time if that was true? 

Maybe it was just a metamorphmagus thing? Was this how Harry felt? Did he have to deal with all of this too? Was it normal for a metamorphmagus to go through this at some point in their lives? Maybe this sort of gender crisis was something common to metamorphmagi.

There really was no way to know. Dora couldn’t talk to Harry... That would be far too embarrassing for the both of them. But there really was nobody else. Her teacher had passed away a few years ago and there were only two other metamorphmagi that she knew, both Aurors, and she didn’t like either of them enough to even remotely consider discussing such a personal subject with them. And as far as Dora knew, there were only maybe another half a dozen metamorphmagi in the entirety of Britain.

In the end, there was really only one other person who might have some relevant experience that Dora felt like she might be comfortable talking about it with, though given the awkwardness so fresh in everyone’s minds, even that seemed a bit of a stretch at the moment. But of all her options, Dora felt seeking Hermione’s counsel was the least embarrassing of the lot. Hermione would surely have some insights given her relationship with Harry.

And as to the rest, well, silly daydreams were best left in fantasy-land... right?

**~o0o~**

“So, are you sure this is good enough, Hermione?” asked Harriet, smirking. “Or would you like me to turn into Dora or Fleur?”

Hermione hesitated a moment before answering. Harriet grinned at Hermione’s expression.

“Don’t be silly Harriet,” said Hermione, recovering herself admirably as she hungrily eyeballed Harriet’s enchanting features. “You’re perfect just as you are!”

Blushing slightly at the intensity of Hermione’s amorous gaze, Harriet didn’t doubt Hermione’s words, but Harriet noticed that Hermione had avoided answering the second part of the question.

“It’s alright you know!” said Harriet earnestly. “I don’t mind. It’d be fun to pretend to be someone else. As long as you don’t want me to look like someone horrible, like Draco Malfoy or Voldemort...”

“Oh! _**That’s**_ nice!” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Thanks for spoiling the mood, Harriet! Are you trying to make me ill? Maybe you think I’ve got a thing for Snape too...” 

“Wait... I didn’t mean...” Harriet tried to interject, horrified at the mere mention in passing that Hermione might want her to be someone old enough to be her father... especially Snape, despite the fact that he was quite civil to the both of them these days.

“...Or maybe you think I might be attracted to Ron?” Hermione continued breezily. “Can you imagine? Me with Ron? ... after four years of his insults and all of the arguments and the fighting? Hmm... now _**there’s**_ an idea...”

“Hermione, that’s not...”

But Hermione was not to be interrupted. She cheerfully barreled on, seeming positively gleeful now.

“...Or Cedric? Hmm... _**he’s**_ nice to look at! OH! ... I know! You could be Fred... or George... either one I suppose...”

Judging from the sparkles of laughter in her eyes, it was obvious at this point that Hermione was just teasing Harriet, trying to get a rise out of her, getting her back for daring to even hint at the remote possibility that Hermione might have some sort of perverse attraction for someone as ghastly and hateful as Malfoy or Voldemort.

There was only one way to end this.

Harriet launched a tickle attack. She soon had her bushy-haired wife on her back and squealing, tears of laughter streaming down Hermione’s giddily flushed cheeks.

“Okay! Alright! ...” Hermione managed to gasp between giggles. “You win Harriet! Stop! No more...”

Harriet’s fingers immediately halted dancing across the bare skin of Hermione’s midriff. Harriet grinned down at Hermione.

“Harriet! You know I was just teasing right? You’re the only one for me, boy or girl!”

“Yeah I know Hermione,” said Harriet. “And I get your point. I suppose it would be like if the situation were reversed and I wanted you to be Umbridge or Cho Chang - nasty person or nice, you’d still probably feel a bit hurt on some level, even if you had offered to be one of them for me.”

Hermione nodded, glad that Harriet had worked it out.

“It’s one thing to have fantasies Harriet, and it’s fun to role-play sometimes,” said Hermione, “but it’s better to be careful when it’s people you’re acquainted with. I suppose if you offered to pretend to be a fictional character, I might...”

“So you admit it?” Harriet grinned again, interrupting Hermione. “That you actually thought about you and me having a little ‘get-together’ with Dora and Fleur?”

“Yes! Alright Harriet! I admit it,” Hermione rolled her eyes again, blushing. “Dora and Fleur are both very appealing, and I love them both. But it was just a silly fantasy. So what about you then?”

“Who... me?” said Harriet, her expression one of pure innocence. “What gave you that idea?”

“Really Harriet?” Hermione gave Harriet a look which suggested strongly that the time for teasing was over.

“Yeah... Okay!” Harriet reddened, still grinning, but looking rather sheepish. “I admit that once I realised what was up with you and Dora and Fleur, I couldn’t help thinking about it too. But I felt really guilty about it.”

“Well, there’s really no need to feel guilty for fantasies Harriet, especially when they’re about people we _**both**_ love anyway!” Hermione reassured Harriet. “Fantasizing about Cho Chang on the other hand, might be due cause for guilt,” she concluded with an impish look, implying strongly that playtime had resumed.

“Right then! No Cho, no problem!” Harriet agreed, an equally mischievous look in her eyes. “So what fictional character would you like me to be then? Someone from a film maybe? Are actors out of the question? ... ”

“Maybe another time Harriet.” Hermione grinned, a naughty golden gleam in her eyes. “I meant it when I said you’re perfect just as you are! Besides, there’s one thing I’d like to try that I haven’t done with you as a girl yet...”

And with that, Hermione slid down the bed...

**~o0o~**

The next morning brought a crisp clear day, bright, but bitterly cold. Hedwig yawned and fluffed her feathers, sitting on top of the mahogany wardrobe with Crookshanks curled around her, purring and flicking his bushy orange tail lazily. Both of them eyed their humans keenly as the Potters greeted the morning and made themselves ready for the day.

By all appearances, Harry, Hermione, and Dora had all by and large got over their embarrassment and could look each other in the eyes again without getting all flustered at breakfast. 

As usual, Harry started the day off with a bit of the BBC news and the WVN news. The biggest news on the BBC was the unusually cold winter and the snow blanketing most of Britain, including nearly all of Southern England, excepting parts of Cornwall. The WVN news was another matter. 

“Oh bloody hell!” Harry muttered. 

Hermione and Dora, who had both been engaging in a hushed conversation on the other side of the room looked up to see what had got Harry worked up. Their earnest expressions quickly turned into scowls as groans emanated from the other young witches when they saw the graphics on the screen and listened to the announcement.

“...and be sure to tune in tonight at seven for an in-depth view of Dumbledore’s biography: _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_ , a documentary based on the award winning series of articles presented at the end of last summer in the pages of the _Daily Prophet_...” 

“That’s horrible,” said Luna sadly. 

“Poor Dumbledore,” Daphne agreed. “I can’t believe they’re bringing that up again.”

“They totally butchered the truth last year - twisted it all around!” Harry growled. “Of course they’re dredging it all up again now that we’re exposing them on the Wiz-Vision.”

“You should just turn it off,” said Ginny, fuming. “And there’s no point watching it tonight, is there?”

“No there isn’t! You’re right Ginny,” Hermione said firmly. “We already know what they’re going to say.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Harry, turning off the Wiz-Vizion. “I’m over this!” 

Harry’s agitation stayed with him for a while, but he felt much better after another training session in the barn with the others and Ginny. He was really pleased at how well she was acclimating to casting spells as part of a Coven. 

For her part, Ginny was thrilled to finally be a part of it all after being separated from Luna and their friends for a month and a half, and excited at the idea of her Patronus being as powerful as Harry and Hermione’s, at least while casting her Patronus as part of a Coven spell. And Ginny couldn’t get over it when she saw Parvati’s Corporeal Patronus. 

The last time Ginny had seen Parvati perform one was in the brief session preparing for Voldemort’s attack on the castle, and at that point, as it was her first time, Parvati had just been able to manage a misty looking Patronus Shield.

“Wow! That’s gorgeous Parvati!” Ginny gasped. “Is that a...?”

“...Black Panther! Yeah.” Parvati nodded, grinning. “At least we think so. Right Hermione?”

“It’s the most likely given its shape,” Hermione agreed. “It could be a leopard, as they’re more or less the same species, but I think the light would be dappled if it were.” 

Ginny, Luna, and Parvati all shared a look, pondering the significance of Parvati’s feline Patronus, and Parvati blushed. It could after all simply be a reflection of Parvati’s Indian heritage, but after their threesome at the pond it was hard not to think that there might not be a bit more to it.

Parvati’s wasn’t the only Patronus that Ginny hadn’t seen yet though, Daphne’s and Jennifer’s were new to her as well. Jennifer’s was a badger and Daphne’s appeared to be some sort of fox, but it seemed a bit small.

“...Hermione thinks it might be an Arctic Fox,” said Daphne when Ginny asked.

After the training session, the rest of the day was spent lounging and engaging in various activities. Dora dragged Hermione to the piano, eager to hear her play some more and play it together for a bit. Harry returned to Jennifer’s art studio to have a go at painting again, this time with Jennifer as his “art-teacher.” Ginny, Luna, Parvati, and Daphne played some muggle board games which Jennifer had introduced them to, and Fleur was reading one of the Curse-Breaking books which Hermione had brought from Number Twelve’s library.

Harry then spent the evening with Hermione snuggled on his lap, reading another science fiction book by Robert Heinlein together. He wondered if Hermione had chosen _The Moon is a Harsh Mistress_ for a reason, when it became apparent that it was about Lunar settlers waging a revolution against their Earthly oppressors.

The following morning, Hermione, Fleur, Jennifer, and Daphne conferred in whispers, occasionally glancing at Dora who was on a sofa nearby drawing superheroes in her sketchbook and animating them with her wand. Having apparently reached a conclusion, Hermione beckoned Harriet (who had felt in the mood to be a girl that morning) and whispered in her ear as well. 

Dora stopped sketching and looked up, puzzled when Ginny, Luna, and Parvati joined the others.

“Alright, what’s goin’ on then?” asked Dora suspiciously. “What’s the big secret?”

“We’re taking you out for your birthday!” said Jennifer with a grin. “We’re going to spend the day in Poole...”

“It’s really nice,” said Hermione. “And they’ve got a lovely park. I’ve been there a number of times with my mum and auntie.” 

Dora turned a bit pink. “Really you lot, you don’t ‘ave to go to the trouble.”

“Don’t be silly!” said Luna. “Birthdays aren’t trouble, they’re fun.”

“And we do not take no for an answer.” Fleur gave Dora a hard stare and a half-smile.

Dora felt a bit squirmy - happy, but embarrassed to be the centre of attention. 

“Er... Alright then,” she agreed. “I suppose we’ll be safe enough.” 

An hour later, the nine of them were bundled up in Poole Park, under cloudy skies and a few light flakes of snow. The ride around the park in the mini-railway was entertaining, and they had loads of giggly fun paddling around the thankfully not frozen over small lake in pedal-boats. Then at Hermione's insistence they all purchased 99's from the ice-cream kiosk and ate them while watching the ducks who were braving the unusually cold winter. 

“I know it's weird eating ice-cream in the middle of winter, but this is always one of my favourite bits of coming to the park.” Hermione grinned as she pulled the chocolate flake out of the soft-serve ice-cream and took a bite. “They were some of the few occasions Mum would let me get something sweet which wasn’t sugar-free...”

Following lunch in a fish and chip shop, they took in a film at the local movie theatre, _Sense and Sensibility_.

“How about Hugh Grant or Emma Thompson?” Harriet whispered to Hermione, grinning. “They’re both nice to look at.”

“Oh shut up!” Hermione whispered back turning pink, immediately catching on to what Harriet was on about.

The rest of the afternoon was spent browsing through shops. Dora was particularly thrilled when they perused a musical instrument shop. While Hermione had Dora distracted, busy ogling the electrical music equipment, Jennifer and Harriet gathered a number of items and carried them up to the cash register. 

Dora’s eyes popped when she spotted them both waiting to pay for a synthesizer, an electric guitar, a drum machine, and several small amplifiers.

“You shouldn’t’ve, you two... really!” Dora moaned weakly, feeling guilty at having so much money spent on her. 

“Harriet and I wanted to,” Jennifer asserted. “We all know you’ve been dying to get your hands on some electric instruments, and Harriet and I can well afford it. Now you can really play some rock music...”

“Besides,” said Harriet with a grin as she went back to grab a microphone, and a couple of effects processors which she and Jennifer had forgotten on the first trek around the shop, “How are you and Parvati supposed to start a band without the proper equipment?”

“Wait... what?” Parvati gasped. 

“Well the band will need a singer,” Ginny giggled.

Parvati flushed in embarrassment, having never considered that her singing voice was actually good enough to share with the world, despite the encouragement of Ginny, Luna, and the other members of the Coven.

“Now all we need are some proper drums,” said Luna, her eyes shining eagerly. “I’ve always wanted to play drums.”

“At some point, yeah,” Jennifer agreed, laughing when she saw Luna’s excitement. “We’ll just barely be able to manage to lug this lot of stuff back today, between us all. You’ll have to make do with the drum machine for now.”

Once back at Jennifer’s manor, Hermione and Harriet made certain that the musical equipment was properly enchanted to operate with magic instead of electricity, as it hadn’t been connected the day they had charmed the junction box in the basement. After enjoying the fantastic cake Dobby had whipped up for Dora's birthday, Dora spent most of the evening with Luna messing around with the synthesizer and drum machine.

The next day the snow was coming down heavily again. Harry had another go at painting after he and Hermione finished the book they were reading. Jennifer joined in, giving Harry pointers again while Hermione found the others in the bedroom which had been converted to a music studio. By the time Jennifer and Harry had finished painting for the day and cleaned up, they discovered everyone in the music room.

Hermione and Ginny were giggling, having fun creating weird sounds on the synthesizer while Luna tapped out rhythms on the drum machine and Dora made the electric guitar scream. Daphne and Fleur were laughing their heads off at all the noise, and Parvati was sitting it out because there was little point trying to sing until they got around to practicing actual songs.

“Blimey, what a bloody racket!” Harry chortled when the cacophony hit his ears. “It’s a good thing we put silencing charms on all of the walls.”

“I’d say so,” Jennifer agreed with a grin.

**~o0o~**

His eyes twinkling, Dumbledore regarded the two red-headed brothers seated before him in his office, considering their proposal.

“A costumed ‘Yule-O’Ween’ Ball?” he mused, stroking his long white beard. “Indeed, the idea has much merit considering that the Carrows allowed both occasions to pass without any fanfare, and it would certainly lift everyone’s spirits. Very well then, I’ll speak with the other professors, and we should be able to put something together for next weekend...”

“Wow!” George said to Fred after departing from the headmaster’s office, “I didn’t really think he’d go for it. I mean, whoever heard of ‘Yule-O’Ween’? ... Even I thought you were mental when you came up with that one.” 

Fred mustered a pompous tone, which was a dead-on imitation of their estranged brother Percy. 

“Of course he went for it! Great minds think alike...”

**~o0o~**

Eleanor Dolittle’s breath caught as she peered through her lacy curtains at the men in long black trench coats patrolling the oak-lined street without any regard for the near blizzard. She let out a sigh of relief when they passed by her bungalow with barely a glance and disapparated.

The greying witch scurried to the kitchen and waved her wand. The Welsh dresser laden with pictures of her father on his innumerable adventures with Uncle Stubbins and their many animal friends slid aside, revealing the door to the cellar. Opening the door, she called out down the steps to the muggleborn hiding below.

“It’s alright you lot, they’ve gone for now. It’s safe to come up...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, this is NOT going to turn into a "Harem" style fic.


	70. The Gathering

The Potters and their friends sat around the dinner table rubbing their full bellies and praising Dobby for yet another fantastic feast. When Dobby began magically clearing up the dishes, the conversation turned to musing upon what being a Coven meant for them as they faced the uncertain future, sparked by the murmurs and giggles coming from the three girls at the end of the table by the window.

“What’s so funny?” asked Daphne, her curiosity getting the better of her. 

Jennifer peered at the other three girls, and the rest of the Coven’s eyes fell upon them as well. Ginny grinned, turning pink, and Parvati looked up, biting her lip and blushing.

“It’s been a week and a half since the three of us all had sex together,” said Luna bluntly, giving Parvati a look. Parvati's blush deepened.

“I... er... I wasn’t sure,” Parvati said to Luna and Ginny. “I mean, it was fun, but I didn’t want to impose on you two. I’ve been feeling a bit like a third wheel whenever I’m around Lavender because she’s always with Viktor these days and... and I thought it might be a bit rude or weird to try to get in the middle of _your_ relationship just because I don’t have someone of my own at the moment...” 

“Don’t be silly,” said Luna. “You’re part of it now too.”

“Luna’s right, Parvati,” Ginny added. “We don’t want you to feel like a third wheel around _us_. It wasn’t just fun. We love you being in on it...”

“...and we love _you!”_ Luna concluded sincerely. “There’s nothing to stop us from being a threesome.”

Parvati squirmed happily, her blushes putting a strawberry to shame. 

Fleur smirked a bit, glancing at Dora, Hermione, and Harry, drawing more giggles from around the table. Harry felt his own face growing a bit warmer, but the direction of the conversation got him thinking.

“So... er... I was wondering, Hermione,” Harry began tentatively, “the... erm... Coven ritual, it seems to me like we’d probably have to do it every so often to... er... recharge the Coven connection between us all. How often d’you think we need to do it?” 

“Oh, you’re absolutely right Harry,” said Hermione, her eyebrows arching when she realised that she had forgotten to mention that bit. “It did say in the book about Covens that the rituals should be engaged in on a regular basis. 

“It wasn’t specific about how often was absolutely necessary - as apparently it varied from Coven to Coven - but it did indicate that it was probably best to not let it go longer than a month. Apparently some Covens did it as often as once every few days, and others once a week. But some Covens believed it was best to do it once a month under a full moon...”

“Oh... it’s still the full moon,” Jennifer interjected. “I think today’s the last day. Do you think it would really make a difference?”

“Er... I’m really not sure,” Hermione replied. “But it might make a bit of difference actually. As I pointed out before, symbolism is very important to a lot of magic which involves Rituals of one sort or another. Some Covens may have also been followers of Celtic paganism or other ancient muggle pagan religions for whom the Moon held great meaning. 

“And it’s also possible that there’s a physical effect of the light of the sun reflecting from the Moon’s surface. I can’t think it makes a _lot_ of difference though, as we clearly triggered the Coven connection during the last ritual, despite it not being a full moon.”

“It can’t hurt to try then, right?” said Ginny, her eyes gleaming eagerly.

“No, I suppose not,” Hermione concurred with a laugh. “I suppose I’m up for another ritual this evening if everyone else is.” 

Apparently the others were just as eager as Ginny and Luna, as the rest of the Coven quickly agreed. Dora seemed a bit more reserved than usual though. 

“You know, we really oughta keep this Coven thing under wraps,” said Dora, peering pointedly at Hermione and Harry. “If we don’t, loads of people are just going to assume we’re havin’ orgies all the time - all of us in a pile together - just like my mum and dad assumed that you two and me and Fleur are, even though it’s utter bollocks. And you know how most people feel about that sort of thing...”

“That’s very true!” Hermione sighed, looking more than a bit guilty. “There’s a lot of stigma attached to Covens despite the recognition of their abilities. More witches and wizards would try to give it a go otherwise. If I hadn’t suggested it...”

“Non ‘Ermione!” Fleur interjected. “Do not berate yourself! I am proud and happy to be a part of such a thing - with it I feel connected to my Veela heritage like never before. And beyond ze fact of increasing the power of our spells - which may yet ‘elp us remove your Minister from power - eet brings us all closer togezzer... makes us even more a family.” 

“Hear, hear,” Dora agreed, nodding. “Sorry Hermione! I wasn’t tryin’ to make you feel guilty. Really! I was just pointing out that we should try to keep it to ourselves...”

**~o0o~**

The headmaster of Hogwarts sighed as he examined the reports from around Britain on his desk. The fact that more and more wizards in their own communities were banding together to resist the Ministry was a hopeful sign, but there was no doubt that the Minister would soon escalate the level of retaliation to some of the uprisings.

It was clear that the Order needed to redouble their efforts to make contact with the smaller resistance groups and coordinate their efforts to protect the muggleborn. The difficulty was that there was really no way to predict where the Ministry would strike next. Hopefully the Order’s moles in the Auror Office - those such as Mulligan and Pevensie - would be able to give the Order enough advance notice to muster an effective response to the next attack.

In the meantime, keeping the students’ spirits up was also a concern. The suggestion of Fred and George Weasley for a “Yule-O’Ween” Ball had been inspired and was a most welcome proposal. Dumbledore couldn’t help smiling. True, Minerva had been a bit perplexed by the idea, but she had immediately seen the benefits.

Dumbledore’s thoughts turned to the Potters and their friends. He picked up the mirror on his desk to issue an invitation. Undoubtedly they would be eager to return to Hogwarts for the Ball; it would surely be a welcome distraction for them as well. 

Though if all was as it appeared, Dumbledore’s keen senses told him that they had already discovered a most unique method of maintaining some measure of good cheer in these troubled times - a method which also promised to make them a force to be reckoned with such as had not been seen in many years. For their own safety - not to mention their reputations - Dumbledore hoped they could manage to keep it a secret.

Fawkes - ever cognizant of what was on his human’s mind - uttered a little trill which sounded very much like a chortle of laughter.

“Indeed Fawkes,” Dumbledore chuckled. “Unless I am very much mistaken, it is almost a certainty that Harry and his wife and friends have formed a Coven...”

**~o0o~**

After showering and preparing for the Coven ritual with Fleur, Dora warily approached the door of the bathroom relegated to the Potters and knocked.

“Come in,” called out Hermione’s voice from the other side of the door. “It’s safe...” her voice quickly added, accompanied by the sound of a chuckle which sounded suspiciously like it belonged to Harry.

Carefully cracking the door, not putting it past the Potters to mess with her a bit for inadvertently giving Hermione the go ahead to walk in on her and Fleur the other day, Dora was relieved to find that they had both finished showering and were more or less covered up. 

Nonetheless, Harry turned a bit pink as he only had a towel wrapped around his waist. Hermione grinned, swaddled in a fluffy blue bathrobe as she was.

“Oi, Harry, Hermione... sorry to interrupt.” Dora grimaced apologetically at the still dripping Potters. “...Message from Dumbledore on the mirror. Apparently a few of our friends at Hogwarts are missing us, and are hoping that we’ll show up to celebrate somethin’ called ‘Yule O’Ween’ with them later this week... Saturday.”

“‘Yule O’Ween’...?” Hermione’s features crinkled in perplex. “What on earth is ‘Yule O’Ween?’”

“Something mad Fred and George came up with, I reckon!” Harry chortled. “To make up for the Carrows not throwing the usual Halloween bash. I suppose the Carrows didn’t do Christmas properly either...”

“Right in one,” Dora replied. “Anyway, I said we’d all be there. It’s gonna be a Costumed Ball of some sort.”

At first thought, the idea sounded brilliant to Harry. So why did he suddenly have an ominous feeling that something was going to spoil it? 

Hermione glanced at Harry, noticing his sudden shift in demeanor and wondering what had caused it. Then it hit them both at the same time.

“You don’t think...” Hermione began.

“...that the only reason nothing terrible happened on Halloween at Hogwarts which somehow involves us was because the Carrows didn’t mark the occasion with a celebration? Yeah... that sounds bloody stupid when I say it out loud!” Harry shook his head, feeling really silly.

“I don’t know Harry...” Hermione frowned worriedly. “Normally I’d agree completely that would be ridiculous - I’d be the first one to point that out. I know that it doesn’t really make sense - it’s completely irrational in fact - but something _**always**_ seems to go wrong for us on Halloween. First Year it was the Troll...”

“...and Second Year the Chamber of Secrets was opened...” Harry sighed.

“...then Third Year Sirius broke into the castle while everyone thought he was a mass-murderer and slashed up the Fat Lady’s portrait...”

“...and then last year my name came out of the Goblet of Fire,” Harry concluded resignedly. “Yeah! But still, it’s not like it’s _really_ going to be Halloween. And it’s only going to be a _**half**_ late-Halloween celebration and half a late Christmas. It’s completely mental right? ... Please tell me it’s bonkers Hermione!”

“Yes... yes of course it is Harry,” Hermione agreed quickly, trying to shake her own feelings of foreboding. “You’re right! It’s not actually happening on Oct 31st, and the odds of something dreadful happening to us on Halloween five years in a row would have to be astronomical...” 

Hermione trailed off when Harry raised his eyebrows at her. “...So of course something’s going happen!” she concluded with a heavy sigh.

“Seriously?” said Dora with a bemused expression on her face. “You’re not going to let some weird premonition get in the way of havin’ a good time at a party next Saturday are you? Come on you two - get a grip on yourselves! ... Anyway, you’ll feel loads better after a romp by the pond under the full moon and have a good laugh about this after...”

**~o0o~**

The wizarding residents of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh were very proud of their status as the home of one of the most famous historical magical naturalists in Britain - a magizoologist so famous in fact, that a series of muggle children’s stories had been written about him. And it annoyed them greatly that Newt Scamander’s fame had relegated their own favourite son to the back-pages of the history books.

Though frustrated, most of said wizarding residents couldn’t really say that it was surprising. Especially given the fact that their own famous magizoologist had spent as much time with ordinary animals - often providing his services as an unusually gifted veterinarian to his muggle neighbours - as he had on his exploratory trips to discover unusual and magical creatures. 

But still, one would think that discovering such unusual creatures as the Pushmi-Pullyu and the Great Pink Sea Snail would have been enough to cement Eleanor Dolittle’s father’s rightful place in history. 

In any case, the wizards of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh were also proud of their splendid relations with their muggle neighbours, no doubt due in part to the fact that the vast majority of the wizards were either halfblood or muggleborn with extensive ties to the community through their relatives. 

A number of days had gone by since the Ministry had first sent Aurors to scout out the town on Somerset’s coast, after a few of the town’s wizarding residents had sent a large gang of Snatchers packing with their tails between their legs. And each day the Aurors had returned to patrol the streets, searching for the muggleborn and the Insurrectionists.

Anxiously, those who had fought the Snatchers had also searched Puddleby in that time, avoiding the Aurors as best as they could, gathering as many muggleborn as they find, and moving them from house to house. 

The heavy wet snow continued to fall in the gloom of the gathering dusk, coming straight down and pelting the small group of cold, wet witches and wizards cautiously approaching the dark, unlit cottage at the end of the oak-lined road, wands at the ready. A wizard with shaggy dreadlocks glanced around worriedly before turning the handle of the front door. It swung open with a creak, revealing only silent darkness.

“Mum,” called out the wizard in a slightly panicky voice, “...are...are you there? It’s only us - you can come out...”

A middle-aged witch with streaks of white in her curly black hair slowly emerged from the kitchen with her muggle husband, both of them letting out sighs of relief.

“Joseph! Thank goodness you’re safe...” The witch lowered her wand when it was apparent that it was her own son and some of their neighbours.

“I’ve just been round at Mrs Dolittle’s - Eleanor’s. We’ve found some more muggleborn and she’s lookin’ after them. I think we’ve got most of them now. We’re heading back there for a meeting to prepare for the Ministry’s next move.”

“Good!” Joseph's mother nodded, her features hardening. “It’s about bloody time we pulled together and did something... Dumbledore and his lot can’t do this all by themselves.”

Apparition cracks and screams caught the ears of everyone gathered near the hallway, and they all ran to the front door in alarm. Several wizards in long black trenchcoats loomed over two prone figures sprawled facedown in the slush, pointing their wands at the group emerging from the cottage. A few more stood nearby, their faces stony and grim.

Terrified, Joseph’s heart caught in his throat at the sight of his wife lying on the pavement, regretting now that he had relented and allowed his wife to keep watch along with one of the other neighbours. The small congregation of wizards in the doorway faced off nervously against the Aurors, their own wands aimed and ready to retaliate.

“Cease and Desist! Drop your wands immediately!” shouted the tall, menacing Auror standing by the gate. “Things will go much easier for you if you just hand over the mudbloods and submit yourselves for confirmation of blood status. Don’t force us to use Unforgivables...”

“That’s my wife!” Joseph roared at the Aurors. “What’ve you done to her? ... You bloody bastards!”

The lead Auror narrowed his eyes at the dreadlocked young upstart, and for a moment all was silent as they stared each other down. 

The silence ended in loud echoing crackles and pops, and the darkening street suddenly lit up in a myriad of colours; jets and arcs of magic flew, bursting and sparking as spells ricocheted. Icicles fell from the eaves of nearby cottages and bungalows as their half-frosted over windows rattled. 

Two of the defenders fell, dropped by the Aurors’ stunning spells. A red Jaguar exploded and a snow laden oak-tree burst into flame when those still standing returned fire and missed the dodging Aurors. Terrified muggles peeked through their curtains when they heard the sounds of battle raging outside their windows. 

A streetlamp jumped into the fray, swinging wildly from its base as if it were an enormous iron chain - of the sort which attached anchors to large vessels - in the hands of a giant and knocking down one of the defending wizards with a sickening sound of breaking bones. Another of Joseph’s companions aimed her wand at a tall hedge and its limbs extended, whipping out to wrap themselves around the Auror who had animated the streetlamp. But the Auror wriggled away, leaving his trenchcoat in the clutches of the foliage.

“You lot asked for this,” snarled the lead Auror as he fired a bolt of green lightning, scattering the group.

Of the defending wizards, only Joseph had both enough rage, and the skill necessary to retaliate in kind. But the others were at least skilled enough in Charms to keep up while managing to dodge the Aurors’ Killing Curses. More spells flew through the heavy snowfall. One of the Aurors crumpled when Joseph’s Killing Curse struck him in the chest.

Taking a leaf from the book of their attackers, another defender aimed his wand at a streetlamp. The steel lamppost coiled itself around an Auror and began to squeeze; forcing him to apparate to safety before being crushed. When a spell from Joseph's mother struck it, an old grey Volkswagen bus with chipped paint came to life and chased one of the other Aurors down the road. 

Yet another Auror slid on an icy patch and fell when he dodged one of the green arcs of magic leaping from the end of Joseph’s wand, cracking his head on the street. The Auror staggered back to his feet with the help of one of his colleagues, thankful that enough snow had collected - wet as it was - to cushion the blow. 

Realising that they were outnumbered, and that the halfblood traitors and the mudbloods were no-longer too frightened to resist official Ministry personnel, the lead Auror yelled at the others to retreat.

“I hope you’re satisfied!” he barked at Joseph. “We’ll see how well you lot do when we return with reinforcements!” he snarled before disapparating.

When it was all over, breathing heavily, Joseph fell to his knees beside his wife and felt for her pulse, hoping that she had indeed only been struck by a stunning spell. The young blonde woman with blue lips groaned and tried to push herself up, shivering from the cold and wiping the snow from her face. 

“It...t...t’s ok...k...kay! I’ll b...be al...r...r...right,” she said through chattering teeth. 

“Thank God! Becky!” Joseph gasped with relief, beside himself with joy to find his soggy wife was recovering from the stunning spell. “That’s the last time I’m leaving your side...”

“D...don’t make p...p...promises,” she retorted, smiling wanly. Joseph heard sloshing and looked up to see his mum approaching, a stricken look on her face.

“Rebecca dear, are you alright?”

“Y...yeah, F...F...Frances! J...j...just freezin’ m...my arse off!”

“Come on, let’s get you inside to warm up then,” Joseph’s mother responded as she took one of Becky’s arms, helping her son lift his wife to her feet.

As a number of shocked muggles opened their doors and spilled into their front yards for a better look, Joseph peered around to see to any others who had fallen. His eyes widened and his jaw slackened in horror at the sight of one of the figures lying in the street in a puddle of red stained slush, immobile, unlike most of the others who were groaning and scrambling to stand up.

Joseph darted into the road, sliding on the wet snow and collapsing at his best friend’s side.

“Morgan!” he gasped, blinking back tears when he reached out to the broken body and confirmed there was no heartbeat. 

Looking up at the length of twisted steel reaching across the road - the now inanimate previously rampaging lamppost which had savagely battered his friend - Joseph grit his teeth as the turbulent eddies of emotion bubbled up inside. He glanced at the other body in the street - the Auror upon whom he had unleashed a Killing Curse. Heartbroken and angry, Joseph couldn’t even take satisfaction in having achieved a measure of vengeance.

As twilight turned into night and the damp snow clung to his dreadlocks, Joseph determined that he would be ready to take out some more Aurors when they returned, no doubt augmented with another phalanx of Snatchers and probably Unspeakables as well. Hopefully he’d have enough time to train up some of the other Puddleby wizards a bit with proper fighting spells by tomorrow morning...

**~o0o~**

He hadn’t even had time for breakfast yet, but the Prime Minister was already swirling brandy in his snifter as he peered out of the window of an upper-level office in Number 10 Downing Street, a pensive expression on his features as he considered the Minister of Magic’s quandary which was also his own. His future was inextricably tied to Minister Umbridge’s, having benefited greatly from their collaboration in more ways than one.

His grip on political power in non-magical Britain was stronger even than Thatcher’s - the privatisation of large swaths of the NHS and other public institutions was progressing apace. His enemies in the opposition party were cowed - not to mention Unions smashed, whistleblowers eliminated, students, minority ethnic groups, and environmental and social justice advocates in disarray, immigrants in hiding - all terrified of clandestine reprisals, while the general public clamoured for ever more security to protect them from Terrorism and the “contagious” Living Dead.

The Bankers had never been happier! London had reached new heights of power over the past six or seven months, becoming once again the Global Centre of Finance under the Prime Minister’s watch for the first time in decades, leaving New York in the dust and giving Britain even greater leverage over the other nations of the EU. 

They were on the verge of restoring the British Empire to its former glory - this time without having to pay any heed to potential interference by the Royals, the current batch being far too soft to sanction the necessary extreme measures which had brought Britain this far.

And the Prime Minister’s own personal fortunes had grown immensely - not to mention the magically secured cells in the secret basement of Number 10 full of his private playthings, upon whom he could indulge his darkest proclivities without fear of discovery or retribution. And he owed it all to Minister Umbridge.

Yet he could not deny that everything was teetering precariously on the edge of a precipice. The Prime Minister swallowed his brandy with one gulp. Jaw set in steely resolve, he returned his gaze to the Minister of Magic.

“Yes!” the Prime Minister nodded. “I concur...”

“It simply won’t do, Dolores,” he continued softly. “These rebels you speak of could destroy everything we have worked so hard for. Do whatever you believe is needed. If some non-magical communities get caught up in the net you cast for the ‘muggleborn,’ then so be it. Make an example of them if you must. I am prepared to bring armed force to bear in support of your efforts should it become necessary.”

“Thank you dear!” Dolores Umbridge replied, her voice dripping with treacle. “I had hoped to keep the disruption of muggle lives to a bare minimum, confined to only the smallest of mixed communities. But Order must be restored, and the recalcitrant simply must be punished...”

“Indeed,” the Prime Minister agreed wryly. “In any case, as long as those that I serve continue to profit by our arrangement and remain unharmed, the loss of a few Lesser ‘muggles’ is hardly worth consideration. To my mind, and the minds of my constituents, such losses are simply a calculated cost of doing business - you can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs after all.”

Dolores chuckled and raised her own brandy glass, reassured that her alliance was still solid, even in the face of expanding her reach to quell the insurrection. The Prime Minister had come along splendidly, having reached the necessary levels of ruthlessness for taking Power and maintaining it.

She drained her glass quickly and after making a few more hurried arrangements with the Prime Minister, Dolores bid her muggle counterpart good-day before stepping into the green flames in the hearth and taking a direct route to her next early morning appointment.

**~o0o~**

“How long will transport to Puddleby take then?” asked the Minister, pursing her lips, an iron look in her eyes.

Bellatrix Lestrange twirled a lock of her long black ringlets as she considered the question for a moment, calculating in her head.

“Well Dolores,” Bellatrix finally responded, her voice silky, “given the number of units required for the task and the small numbers currently available at our two remaining facilities in Britain - tapping the facility in Northern Ireland will be logistically infeasible - we will have to empty quite a few muggle graveyards and raid muggle morgues as well to bring the numbers up to inundate a small city of nearly ten thousand residents.

“But with all available personnel on hand, I believe we can have at least two thousand Inferi in place by perhaps nine this evening.” 

“Excellent!” Dolores nodded brusquely. “This uprising simply cannot stand. And I have no wish to waste any more Ministry lives on the matter. The Unspeakables and Aurors will be taking a hands off approach, despite the size of the town.

“The Prime Minister assures me that he will provide the personnel and the incendiary devices to mop up the Inferi with extreme prejudice. If Dumbledore learns of the operation, I’d like to see him try and stop this one. If he dares to show up, he’ll end up facing the muggle military, and put himself under the ICW’s spotlight.”

“What about Potter and Dumbledore’s Secret Weapon?” Bellatrix pointedly asked, raising an eyebrow as she regarded Dolores cannily.

“A calculated risk!” Dolores replied, her expression sour. “Potter hasn’t been seen since he left Hogwarts - except during the retaking, in which he and his friends participated with the full backing of Dumbledore's people. I seriously doubt that Potter and his little friends destroyed the compound in Wales. I have it on good authority that he is quite squeamish about killing indiscriminately.

“And it is highly unlikely that Potter has the skill-set required to pull off the rescue of Arthur Weasley without leaving any trace whatsoever of entry at the Ministry, given his tender age. Only a supremely skilled wizard with years of experience could have managed it. I suspect Dumbledore has had Potter hidden safely away, and that he and his own forces took on the tasks.”

“Hmmm...” purred Bellatrix, “I wouldn’t count him out, Dolores! It doesn’t pay to underestimate Potter - as the Dark Lord discovered more than once, much to his detriment.”

“Yes! I quite see your point, Bellatrix,” Dolores frowned, sighing. “Regardless. Potter can’t be everywhere at once, and given the layout of Puddleby, even if he shows up and employs Dumbledore’s Secret Weapon, the Inferi will be too spread out - they won’t all be amassing in one spot conveniently for him as they did at Hogwarts.

“And even if he does manage to destroy many of them, he and Dumbledore will nonetheless be in quite a pickle when the muggle military shows up to quell the Inferi with missiles and incendiary weapons...”

**~o0o~**

It was Saturday, just after lunch when the Potters and their friends arrived at the Portkey arrival site on the lawn in front of the Castle. The Coven waded through the snowdrifts to the front doors. Dusting snow from their parkas as they stood in the foyer of Hogwarts, the members of the Coven gawked at the scene - apparently the festivities had already begun and costumed students were milling about.

Suits of armour and statues were bedecked with both Christmas and Halloween decorations, some with red Father Christmas caps and suits, and others done up to look like scarecrows. And it seemed that many students were happily “wearing costumes” which were clearly jinxes and hexes that under ordinary circumstances would have been grounds for retaliation against the perpetrators. 

They bore a variety of features: rabbit ears and tails, bulbous noses and elephantine ears, yellow feathers and beaks (clearly “victims” of the Weasley Twins’ Canary Creams), lions’ manes, lizard scales, and much, much more. Daphne squeaked when she spotted two pupils sporting a very unique look. Luna and Ginny burst into giggles as the others gasped.

“Harry, look!” Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm and spun him around to see what everyone else was gaping it.

Harry chortled and shook his head when he saw Fred and George, both of them tomato red from head to toe. They trotted around on cloven hooves, wickedly curved horns poking up through their ginger hair, and long red tails with a barbs on the ends jutting from their backsides.

Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet stood beside their respective boyfriends, clad in what could only be described as rather revealing Amazon Warrior Princess outfits, complete with golden armoured bikini style breast-plates which barely covered their ample bosoms, bare midriffs, and very skimpy white skirts which barely covered their bums. 

The corners of Hermione’s lips twitched with mirth, knowing that Professor McGonagall must be having a fit.

“Excellent!” exclaimed Harry as he grinned at the Twins. “Showing your true colours at last then? I should’ve guessed that you two were the devil’s minions.”

“Oi, I think we resent that...” said Fred. 

Fred’s mock outrage was interrupted by a squeal of delight. 

“Parvati! Over here you lot...” yelled Padma, who was strolling through the entrance hall with a pirate who looked a lot like Neville and a pirate’s “wench” who looked a lot like Hannah Abbott. Neville and Hannah both beamed happily, excited to see their friends again.

“You look ridiculous!” Parvati giggled as she hugged her sister, who had apparently decided that a black horse tail and ears suited her best. 

“Are you joking? That’s brilliant!” said Harry, grinning as he turned to Hermione. “So what about it Hermione? Feel like being a Catgirl again? Maybe in a bikini too...?”

“Shut up!” Hermione gave Harry a little shove, rolled her eyes and smiled, blushing under his eager gaze. She remembered well how much he had loved her furry tail, ears, and whiskers. 

Dora smirked, her hair flourescing brightly pink as she turned to Fleur and the other members of the Coven. 

“Right you lot,” she began, “let’s pop up to the Unaffiliated ‘House’ for a bit, and I’ll transfigure anyone that wants a ‘costume’...”

**~o0o~**

As evening fell upon the picturesque town on the coast of Somerset, the low darkening clouds above churned and the wind came up as heavy wet snow began to fall once again. Numerous seaworthy boats bobbed on the choppy waters in the quay along the river which led to the nearby sea.

The sky lit up and thunder rumbled through the small city, much to the surprise of many of its citizens who were unused to such rare weather conditions. Thunder-snow-storms weren’t entirely unheard of in parts of Britain, but they weren’t what any would call commonplace either. 

Meanwhile, a street lined with oaks on the edge of town nearest the marshes was quieter than it had been much of the day, and many of its residents were still too shaken to pay the odd weather much attention.

The muggle authorities of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh had long since finished canvassing Oakridge Road and questioning local residents about the mayhem of the previous evening, after clearing away the debris. They had removed two bodies - one of which was still unidentified - to the local police-station morgue the night before, shortly after arriving within minutes of the frantic phone calls to find an oak-tree and a Jaguar still in flames, despite the heavy snowfall.

The police were quite puzzled as to how two steel lamp posts had ended up twisted in knots, as the explanations from the residents hadn’t made any sense. Several homes were apparently unoccupied, though if there had been any wizards on the local police force, they might have noticed the nearly sixty occupants crowded into Mrs Dolittle’s bungalow.

Joseph Chambers, his wife, his mother, and Mrs Dolittle did their best to keep the anxious wizards and their muggle relatives calm. They had grown more perplexed throughout the day at the apparent lack of Ministry response to their Resistance the previous evening. Though Joseph had been pleased to at least have had the chance to gather the rest of Puddleby’s wizarding population and teach a number of them how to use stunning, shielding, and explosive spells properly.

“Maybe we should just leave now,” suggested a frightened blonde witch when she looked nervously at the clock on the mantelpiece as the evening wore on, “before they do arrive!”

“And go where, Madge?” asked another witch with short auburn hair. “Eventually the Ministry will find us whether we’re on the run or not. You’ve seen what they do to muggleborn on the Wiz-Vision. We have to make a stand together with our friends somewhere, or we’re done for!”

“And Puddleby is our home,” added a tall, balding wizard. “If we don’t defend it, nobody will. I’ve sent an owl to Hogwarts. Maybe Dumbledore’ll send someone to help...”

“If they get the owl in time,” moaned an elderly, miserable looking wizard with sagging jowls. “It could take at least a couple o’ days for the owl to get there from here - especially in this weather.”

A brown-haired boy about eight years old fidgeted as he sat with his little sister, listening to the grownups. Bored, he wandered across the living room to peek between the curtains at the snow coming down in buckets outside. A flash of lightning lit up the street and a loud clap of thunder rattled the window. He fell back with a scream.

Joseph ran to the window and peered through the curtains. His face dropped in horror.

“Mum,” he yelled franticly, “get the kids and the muggles downstairs to the basement and barricade the entrance... right now!”

**~o0o~**

The loud dance beats rocked the Great Hall as clouds roiled across the Enchanted Ceiling, apparently releasing flurries of snow which vanished when reaching the floating candles.

Warm orange light glowed from the eyes and mouths of the grinning jack-o-lanterns under the Christmas trees, and annoyed fairies fluttered around the tall green pines, vying for attention with the hundreds of live bats flitting above which were apparently unconcerned by all of the noise. 

Minerva pursed her lips in disapproval as she peered around the Hall, spying far too many girls wearing far too little for her liking. She spotted the Headmaster dancing with Professor Sinistra and groaned, rubbing at her forehead. Aurora’s thigh revealing toga was altogether unbecoming for a professor.

“Oh for heaven’s sake!” Minerva sputtered, waving her hand. “What sort of example are we setting for the First and Second Years present?”

Poppy Pomfrey smirked at Professor McGonagall and opened the bottle sitting beside her on the Staff-Table. She filled a snifter to the rim with brandy and passed it to her colleague.

“Oh go on Minerva,” Poppy giggled. “Live a little... let your hair down for a change. Goodness knows we can all use a distraction at the moment.”

Minerva glanced at Poppy and sighed.

“I suppose you’re right Poppy,” Professor McGonagall moaned. She took one last look of reproach at the scene and drained the goblet with a single gulp.

**~o0o~**

“I love magic,” Jennifer shouted to be heard over the _Depeche Mode_ song currently booming in the Great Hall. “It would’ve taken me ages to look like this with makeup and make a costume!”

Daphne grinned and nodded as she danced with her girlfriend, both of them fluttering their iridescent butterfly wings as rainbow sparkles glittered on their faces and hair.

Dora beamed, overhearing as she danced nearby with Fleur. 

“Yeah!” she shouted back at Jennifer and Daphne. “It’s amazing what you can do with a few transfiguration spells if you know what you’re doin’....”

“I know! It’s brilliant!” yelled Harry as he bounced by giddily with Hermione, both of them with whiskers, furry cat tails, and ears - Harry’s black and shaggy, Hermione’s bushy and tawny-brown.

Ginny was sporting a big bushy, white tipped fox-tail which was otherwise as red as her hair, and a pair of pointy red furry ears. Luna and Parvati had opted for cat tails and ears - Luna’s dirty blonde like her hair, and Parvati’s sleek and black. Ginny leaned in and whispered something in Luna’s and Parvati’s ears. 

Luna and Parvati nodded and grinned as Ginny dragged them both out of the Great Hall to find someplace a bit more private for a short while. They were all distracted though when someone by the punch-bowl tapped Parvati on the shoulder.

“Lavender... I... what on earth possessed you?” gasped Parvati as her eyes were drawn to the top of Lavender’s head.

“It was all Viktor’s idea,” said Lavender, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend.

“Indeed!” said Viktor, winking impishly at his antlered girlfriend. “She is qvite sexy in antlers, no?”

“You don’t look half bad yourself with those moose-racks on your head,” Lavender tittered.

“Just be careful not to get your horns locked when you go in for a kiss,” Luna proffered sagely with a dreamy smile.

**~o0o~**

Albus Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled at Aurora as she begged her leave to take a breather. He sighed happily as he glanced around at the students joyously carousing in the Great Hall, glad that the Yule O’Ween Ball had turned out to be such a great success.

But his cheery thoughts were interrupted by a vibrating in one of his pockets. Frowning slightly, Dumbledore hurriedly exited the hall, slipping into the anteroom to answer the sounding alert. Retrieving the mirror from his pocket, Dumbledore regarded the agitated features of Auror Mulligan.

“Thank goodness you’re there...” gasped Mulligan. “Sir, we have a situation...”

“What seems to be the trouble, Reynard?”

“Puddleby - I’ve only just found out - the Minister - I tried Amelia first - but she’s still in Belgium...”

“Please Reynard - calm yourself and start from the beginning.”

Auror Mulligan nodded and took a deep breath before having another go, speaking in rapid-fire.

“Apparently there was a minor uprising last night in Puddleby-on-the-Marsh, Somerset. An Auror was killed, but the Auror Office and the Unspeakable Office were ordered to stand down. And I’ve only just heard through the grapevine - Inferi - a whole load of them are attacking Puddleby... right now as we speak!”

Dumbledore’s face paled. The last thing he wanted was to interrupt the Potters and their friends during their time of respite, but the Potters were the only ones capable of effectively dealing with large Inferi swarms. Dumbledore had been working on modifying a spell - one which was generally classed with the Unforgivables - for dealing specifically with this sort of situation, but it was still in development.

But with enough wizards, perhaps the problem could be resolved without calling upon the Potters just yet.

“Very well,” Dumbledore sighed. “Contact Pevensie and any other Aurors that we can trust. I will reach Delacour’s people and as many Order members as I can muster. We’ll all meet in Puddleby in fifteen minutes to evaluate and respond to the situation...”

**~o0o~**

Lee Jordan - who was acting as DJ - slowed things down for a set, giving couples a chance for a few close dances.

Harry breathed in Hermione’s fragrance as he held her close, swaying gently in time to the _Kate Bush_ song currently playing in the Great Hall. As the haunting tune came to a close, and Kate Bush’s ethereal vocals faded, he gazed into Hermione’s tear-filled eyes, feeling the tug on his own heart.

“I’m alright,” she whispered, dabbing her wet cheeks with a hanky. “It’s just the song Harry.”

“Yeah... I know,” murmured Harry, nodding as he leaned in to kiss Hermione. “That one always gets me too.”

When their lips parted, Harry sensed someone approaching as the next song began. He felt a stir of trepidation at the grim expression on Professor McGonagall’s face, and he knew that their momentary escape from the travails of the world had come to an end.

“I’m very sorry Harry, Mrs Potter,” said Minerva quietly. “I have just received notice from Alastor Moody. I am afraid your services will be required...”


	71. A Night on the Town

It took a few minutes for the Potters to find their friends on the crowded dancefloor, but there were three missing.

“Where’s Ginny, Luna, and Parvati?” Harry asked Dora, feeling agitated as he glanced at Fleur, Jennifer, and Daphne. “Have any of you seen them?”

All four shook their heads, but an antlered girl dancing nearby with her even more impressively horned boyfriend had overheard. 

“They left the Hall about ten minutes ago,” said Lavender.

“I think zey go to find _‘broom closet’_...” Viktor added pointedly with a grin and a wink, earning himself a roll of eyes and a swat on the shoulder from Lavender.

“Crap!” Harry groaned. “We’ve got to get out of here _**now!**_ Any idea which direction they...?”

Hermione raised her eyebrows at Harry as she retrieved her mirror from her handbag and waved it at him. Harry flushed slightly as he watched Hermione speaking into the mirror. Seconds later they spied the disheveled blushing features of Parvati, Luna, and Ginny in the mirror as they smoothed their rumpled dresses.

“Shouldn’t we get changed?” asked Parvati, sounding slightly out of breath as the Coven met in the Entrance Hall. 

“No time,” said Harry, trying to ignore Parvati’s anxiously twitching cat-tail. “It’s urgent. We need to get to the gates so we can apparate...” 

“...McGonagall told us where to go.” Hermione added, her own bushy tail and ears wagging in agitation as she grabbed coats and wellington boots for everyone from a wardrobe to the right of the front-doors. “Just throw these on for now.”

The Coven - all still “in costume” - hurried as fast as they could through the snowdrifts down to the front gates. Fortunately for Daphne and Jennifer, the spare coats from the wardrobe magically adjusted to accommodate their butterfly wings. Harry considered morphing away his own furry tail and ears, but decided against it, feeling that it would be unfair as he hadn’t given anyone time to be un-transfigured.

Once through the gates everyone turned on the spot with the address that Moody had given McGonagall firmly in mind. Nine loud cracks later and the woods beyond the the gates of Hogwarts were still and silent once more.

**~o0o~**

Hermione shrieked, her bushy tail bristling. She slipped in the slush under her feet and fell into Harry’s arms, almost taking him down with her. Daphne froze in her tracks, her gossamer wings aflutter, and Jennifer instinctively wrapped a protective arm around her.

“Merlin!” Dora swore.

“Bloody Hell!” gasped Harry, paling, his eyes boggling at the horrific mayhem which greeted the Coven. 

Lightning lit up the dark road lined with oak trees and they were quickly drenched by the pelting sleet, thunder drowning out the sound of their apparition. For a moment the entire Coven stood paralysed, taken aback by the chaotic scene, mouths agape. Their stomachs churned as their nostrils were assailed by the unbearable stench of death.

The screams of muggles rent the air as they were dragged from their homes through broken doors and windows by the hordes of moaning Undead. Spells crackled and sparked as the wizards did their best to defend themselves and the non-magical residents of the neighbourhood from the lurching corpses. Some of the wizards were grabbing muggles and apparating them to safety, returning moments later to the battle.

But for every lurching corpse which was disintegrated or exploded by a spell, ten more seemed to take its place. And despite the best efforts of the Wizards, some of the living had already fallen - magical and non-magical alike - as the Inferi feasted upon them, blood dripping from their maws.  
There were too many, and it was hard to make out who was whom in the chaos.

“Harry, look...” squealed Hermione. Parvati clapped a hand to her mouth, stifling a scream.

The rest of the Coven peered down the slight incline in the direction that Hermione was pointing, gasping at the unthinkable, terrifying sight. Two wizards very dear to the Coven appeared to be faltering, surrounded by an overwhelming mass of Inferi.

Sirius was kneeling in a puddle, holding tightly onto a pale and shaking Dumbledore. Harry’s chest tightened with fear when he saw the torn flesh hanging from the headmaster’s right arm, blood gushing from the ragged wound which appeared to have been caused by ripping teeth. Sirius fired a Reductor into the midst of the inferi bearing down upon them.

“Leave me Sirius...” Dumbledore gasped, “...before it’s too late. I shall become one of the Inferi myself before too long - kill me now before I do...”

“Don’t be ridiculous - there must be a way to break the curse...” Sirius snapped as he blasted a hole in the group of Inferi with a Bombarda.

But the concussive explosion merely sent the Undead flying. Undaunted by shattered limbs, those that could still crawl dragged themselves through the deepening puddles and piles of slush; those with legs which remained unbroken picked themselves up, and those still standing were already closing ranks around Sirius and Dumbledore.

“NOOOOO!” screamed Harry.

Tears poured down Hermione’s white cheeks. The Coven didn’t need to be told what to do. Propelled into action by the sound of Harry’s voice, they huddled together and raised their wands - each of them gasping for breath, hearts thudding against the walls of their chests.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” they bellowed as one.

Pulses of blinding white light flooded the entire street. The groans and death rattles of the Inferi turned into shrieks as nine glowing entities bounded and flew into the fray. Sparks and flame burst from the eye-sockets and mouths of all the walking dead within the radius of the throbbing illumination. Shimmering rainbows formed by the scattered light rippled through the beaded curtains of snowy rain.

Stunned wizards and witches, and astonished muggles blinked, holding up their hands to shield their eyes, puzzled as the swarming, shrieking Inferi halted in their tracks and trembled. Only the few wizards who had been at the battle of Hogwarts had any inkling of what was occurring. 

The Potters had apparently just arrived, seemingly the only ones to have mastered the Secret Weapon that Dumbledore had presumably created.

The shocked wizards and muggles looked on as best they could while shading their faces; the flesh of the Walking Dead shriveled and blackened. Steam rose from the internally combusting Inferi as they turned into cinders, and hundreds of skeletons collapsed into heaps as the ash mingled with sleet and washed away in the icy puddles.

Then it was over, and for a moment all that could be heard was the heavy thrum of falling rain and snow - and sirens in the distance - as the pulses of light faded and the street darkened once more. Hearts pounding, Harry and Hermione dashed and slid through the puddles and piles of slush to where Sirius was still cradling the fallen Dumbledore, followed closely by the rest of the Coven.

“Professor Dumbledore,” gasped Harry, kneeling at the headmaster’s side and peering at him through blurry eyes, “Sir... your arm - the Inferi...?”

“Are ‘contagious’... yes Harry,” Dumbledore nodded sadly. “I am afraid that I have little time left. You must finish me...”

“No... Sir! There must be another way...”

“Harry, please...” Dumbledore’s soft pleading voice was a more terrifying sound than anything Harry had heard before - and that was saying a lot. 

For a moment Harry felt almost as if he were back in the tiny Welsh village, faced with putting down the little Inferi girl who had looked so much like a young Hermione.

Harry felt the world spinning, closing in around him, his breath quickening, a deep chill in his bones as if Dementors were wrapping him in their deathly embrace. It couldn’t end this way; Dumbledore was the closest thing Harry had to a grandparent. Pushing a forefinger and thumb under his wet glasses, Harry rubbed his stinging eyes and peered at Sirius. 

Sirius cast his eyes down, unable to meet his godson’s as he had reached the same regrettable conclusion as Dumbledore. Harry looked at Hermione imploringly. She had to have an answer. Hermione always had an answer.

“Hermione,” he croaked hopefully. The rest of the Coven shuffled uncomfortably, averting their gazes as splodges of soggy snow collected on their shoulders and dripping hair.

“No,” said Hermione gently, a puzzled expression on her face as her wet furry ears twitched pensively as she looked over Dumbledore. 

Harry’s heart fell. If Dumbledore and Hermione both thought it was over, then it was really over; but there was no way that Harry could bring himself to be the one, and he hoped that Sirius would be up to the task. 

Hermione suddenly caught Harry’s expression and realised that he had taken her the wrong way. 

“I mean, no, it won’t be necessary to kill Dumbledore, Harry,” she said quickly.

“Mrs Potter - you _must_...” Dumbledore interjected. Harry’s breath caught, feeling a new surge of hope.

“No!” Hermione repeated, more forcefully. “Professor Dumbledore, If you had been overtaken by the Inferius Curse completely, you would be dead... a pile of bones and ash like the others. But instead - look at your arm...”

Everyone peered at Dumbledore’s mangled arm. Moments before it had been bloody torn skin and muscle, but now it was as withered as a mummy’s, and as scorched as a tree-limb exposed to a forest fire before the flames had been put out. Dumbledore lifted his arm and stiffly flexed his charred, nearly skeletal fingers in astonishment.

Fleur gasped as understanding hit her and she caught Hermione’s eye. Hermione nodded as the others glanced at her in bewilderment.

“I... I’m not entirely certain,” Hermione continued, flicking her bedraggled furry tail, “but I think our Patronuses prevented the Inferius Curse from spreading and taking you over. They broke the Curse... I don’t think you’re going to die and become one, Professor Dumbledore.”

“Blimey!” Harry muttered, his eyes widening. “Of _**course**_ Hermione! That makes perfect sense...”

“Can... can it be true?” Sirius glanced hopefully at Hermione, then returned his gaze to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore stroked his soggy blood stained beard thoughtfully with his good hand as he continued to peer at his bad one. Slowly he nodded.

“I do believe Mrs Potter is correct, Sirius.” Dumbledore’s eyes lit up. “If so, then any others on this street who have also been bitten, may yet live to see another day as well...”

“But not for bloody long if we don’t get a move on,” growled a familiar voice.

“Wotcher Mad Eye!” Dora beamed at the grizzled ex-Auror limping towards them.

“The job’s not done yet,” muttered Alastor Moody. “Puddleby is completely overrun by the buggers. If we don’t stop ‘em quick, every man, woman, and child in this town will soon be dead...”

Harry looked past Moody when he heard fast-paced footsteps splashing through snowy puddles in the road, spying several wizards running towards them. Two of them he recognised, but the one with dreadlocks who appeared to be in his early or mid twenties was unknown to him. Arthur Weasley grimaced and his son Bill let out a low whistle when they spotted the state of Dumbledore’s shriveled and blackened leathery right arm.

“That looks nasty,” said Bill as he winced, wiping the wet strands of his long ginger hair from his face which had broken free of his ponytail.

“Quite,” said Dumbledore drily as Sirius helped him stagger to his feet. “Nevertheless, it appears that the Inferius Curse has been broken before it had a chance to overcome me, and that I shall live - thanks to the remarkable Patronuses produced by our young friends.”

Dumbledore beamed at his students, peering at each and every one of them knowingly. Dora turned pink when she saw the look in Dumbledore’s eye, reminding her horribly of the look her father had given her when he and her mother had assumed that she and Fleur were having orgies with the Potters. 

Harry swallowed, feeling a bit disconcerted, having thought it was going to remain a secret. He supposed that too many wizards had got a good look at their Corporeal Patronuses though. And as Dumbledore caught his eye, there was something about Dumbledore’s gaze... He knew! 

Harry didn’t know how Dumbledore had figured it out, but somehow Dumbledore knew they were a Coven. 

The dreadlocked wizard’s jaw dropped in astonishment, and Alastor Moody’s natural eye widened to nearly the same size as his piercing electric blue magical eye.

 _“What?”_ gasped Mr Weasley. “Those were Patronuses then? But how...?”

“That’s impossible... isn’t it?” said Bill, frowning with bewilderment. “I’ve never heard of a Patronus breaking **_any_** sort of curse, especially not an Inferius Curse. And I’ve broken more than a few curses in my time working for Gringotts...”

“Not eempossible, no...” began Fleur excitedly, “Our Patroni, zey ‘ave much power...” She caught herself and trailed off, suddenly thinking better of revealing too much.

Harry glanced at Hermione who looked equally anxious, neither of them sure what to say. He caught Dumbledore’s eye again, and the headmaster shook his head slightly. Harry felt some relief, knowing that Dumbledore would at least keep the Coven’s status a secret.

“Ah...” said Dumbledore, “suffice it to say that the Potters and their friends are quite prodigious with the Patronus Charm, having apparently discovered unusual effects through great practice and experimentation...

“Even I was unaware of their full potential for defeating Inferi before Voldemort’s forces attacked Hogwarts. And this particular effect of countering the spread of the Contagious Inferius Curse is certainly new to me - to all of us - as was Bellatrix Lestrange’s recent modification of Inferi to pass on their curse to the Living itself...”

Dumbledore looked directly at the wizard that the Coven was unacquainted with and raised his eyebrows as he continued, “Mr Chambers, I trust that you will keep this information to yourself for now. Only myself and those members of the Order of the Phoenix which you see before you are currently aware of the extent of the rare abilities of my students. I believe it would be to our advantage if it were to remain so as long as possible.”

“Y...yes sir. Of course!” stammered Mr Chambers as he nodded. “I understand.”

“Right then...” growled Moody, finally finding his voice as his penetrating eye swiveled to peer at the Coven. “Well, secret or not, we’re gonna have to put the Potters and their friends to work. There’s no time for us to stand around jawin’...”

And indeed, the sound of spells could be heard crackling as wizards at the far end of the street began engaging with the Inferi which were swarming through the rest of Puddleby. Harry took a deep breath to brace himself; he knew exactly what they needed to do.

“Okay, we need to get to the highest point in town,” said Harry, “hopefully somewhere that we can see most of it. If we can, we should be able to deal with most of the Inferi, leaving the stragglers for the rest of you to pick off.”

“Very good Harry.” Dumbledore nodded. “A wise course of action...”

“I know just the place,” said Mr Chambers. “An office building downtown - it’s the tallest one - you should be able to see most of the town from the roof. But if you don’t know Puddleby, you won’t be able to apparate there directly. I’ll have to take you.”

“Er... alright then!” Harry agreed. “Thanks Mr Chambers...”

“Joseph...” The dreadlocked wizard offered Harry his hand. “Call me Joseph, please... All of you. I can’t thank you enough for coming!”

“Well... you can thank us when we’re finished, Joseph,” said Harry, shaking his hand. “We’d better get on with it and try to save as many as possible.”

Joseph quickly shook the hands of the others, before coming to someone he thought he recognised. He looked a bit puzzled as he tried to place her. 

“Er... hi,” said Dora when she shook the familiar looking wizard’s hand. “Tonks - I was in Hufflepuff... I think you mighta been a year or two ahead of me.”

“Oh! Right.” Joseph nodded. “Ravenclaw...” 

There was a snort and everyone glanced at Mad Eye, feeling slightly abashed. 

“We’d better get a move on,” said Harry quickly.

Bill Weasley clapped his father on the shoulder. “I’ll go with them too, Dad...”

“Harry, Mrs Potter...” Dumbledore caught their attention. “Stay in contact with the mirrors - and good luck!”

Harry nodded, feeling a lump in his throat, then turned to make his way down the road. As the Coven followed after Joseph and Bill, stepping around piles of inert skeletons, in the flickers of lightning they spied a number of people, some of them openly weeping, seeing to the wounded - fallen wizards and muggles whose injuries now looked much like Dumbledore’s.

Some had clearly been too badly injured to survive, though the Inferius Curse had been broken before they could be reanimated. Joseph darted to where his wife and mum were standing with some muggle children, still in shock, and quickly explained that he would be escorting the Potters and their friends. He seemed to be arguing with his wife.

“I told you not to make promises...” Harry overheard Joseph’s wife say.

“Come with me then,” pleaded Joseph. 

His wife shook her head. “I’m needed here...”

Harry took the opportunity for one last instruction to the Coven, glancing around at Hermione, Dora, Jennifer, Fleur, Daphne, Parvati, Ginny, and Luna, as Bill Weasley looked on.

“Okay,” he said quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the sleet and claps of thunder, “if we’re going to try and keep most people guessing about the spell we’re using, we’ll have to do it nonverbally. We’ve practiced it, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Just watch me for the cue.”

Ginny swallowed anxiously, her bushy red fox tail quivering. She had got used to casting spells with the others as a Coven, but she had the least amount of practice doing it nonverbally.

“You’ll be fine,” Luna whispered, seeing Ginny’s nervousness.

“Got it Harry,” said Dora with a crisp nod.

“We’re ready Harry.” Hermione gave him a wan smile and a shake of her sodden tawny tail as the rest of the snowy, wet Coven murmured their acknowledgment.

“I know you are.” Harry returned her sad little smile, and gave everybody one last look of encouragement. “You’re all brilliant!”

The Coven reached the end of the street where the battle still raged; a phalanx of Order members, locals, and French wizards holding the line against the Inferi. Bill directed the fighting wizards to be prepared to move through the town when the crossroad had been cleared. 

Fleur beamed and waved at a young French wizard with closely cropped hair and one earring. Dora raised an eyebrow and smirked when he blew a kiss at Fleur. Fleur blushed and gave Dora a reassuring squeeze.

The throng of groaning corpses in various states of decay lurched and surged, as the Order and the French wizards continued to heavily favour the Reductor curse, unwilling as they were to set the entire town ablaze with firestorm spells, which might not even be effective enough given the continuing downpour of sleet in any case.

Harry took a deep breath to brace himself, then lifted his left hand and gestured a count of three as he raised his wand with his right hand. The rest of the Coven gathered around him in close formation and raised their wands; Harry’s last finger unfurled on the third count, and a pulsating blaze of dazzling white light erupted, filling the crossroad, swallowing up the nine glowing entities which charged into the midst of the swarm of Undead.

The moans of several hundred Inferi became screams as their decaying flesh combusted and turned to ash. The French wizards and witches, locals, and Order members who were less than familiar with the Hogwarts students blinked, many shielding their eyes as they tried with difficulty to make out what was happening in the shining flare of light, frank expressions of awe and surprise on their faces.

When the last Inferius within the radius of the pulses of luminosity collapsed into heaps of bones and skulls, the light faded and the wizards and witches began to move out, dividing into smaller teams as they spread out through the town.

“This way...” shouted Joseph as he ran, trying to avoid stepping on skulls and tripping over femurs. Bill and the Coven followed, keeping an eye out for more Inferi as they jogged along the street as quickly as they could, trying not to slip on the patches of half iced over puddles and slush.

With Joseph and Bill, the Coven shot their own Reductor spells at random Inferi as they hurried through the town. Daphne, Hermione, and Luna gave Harry beseeching looks when they heard the screams of muggles, the wail of police sirens and loud reports of gunfire from the side streets. 

They stopped once or twice to set their Patronuses loose on the most concentrated knots of the lurching corpses which they came across, but Harry’s and Dora’s grim looks reminded the rest of the Coven that the entire town was at stake, and that they needed to get to high ground as soon as possible to make the most of their skills.

Soon, the quaint houses and picturesque buildings which made up much of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh gave way to those which looked more modern, and they knew that downtown was very close. Breathing heavily from exertion and trepidation, they were almost grateful for the icy water dripping from their hair and faces. But their hearts fell when they came across a traffic jam at an intersection.

A Tesco supply lorry lay overturned in the middle as traffic lights turned from red to green and back again, surrounded by the twisted metal of mangled cars smashed together in a pileup, some of them still emitting sparks and smoke. At least one of them which had apparently exploded was now a burned out husk of steel. 

Lights continued to spin and flash on the roofs of several Police cars, a Fire Engine and an Ambulance with broken windows as their wailing sirens and the rasping groaning sound of the throng of Undead filled the air.

Hundreds of Inferi swarmed around the vehicles gnawing on the limbs and gory entrails that they had torn from the recently Living, fresh blood dripping from their hungry mouths. There didn’t seem to be anyone left alive in the intersection, only animated corpses with peeling and rotting grey flesh.

Daphne briefly looked away from the horrid, gruesome sight and bit her lip in an effort to stop herself from crying. Hermione’s soaked tail bristled as angry tears flooded her cheeks. Harry squeezed her hand and squashed his own rage to keep himself together. Once more the Coven raised their wands and Bill and Joseph protected their eyes from the blindingly bright luminescence which ripped through the Inferi Horde.

They cautiously picked their way through the block which had just been cleared by their Patroni, past storefronts with brightly flashing red and yellow neon signs and shattered windows - past the Tesco where the overturned lorry in the intersection had recently unloaded its wares. There wasn’t a single person in sight except for the skeletons which now lay unmoving in the slushy snow and the puddles.

If it weren’t for the continued sound of wailing sirens, the snowy rain beating the pavement, burbling gutters fall of rushing water, and the occasional peal of heavy thunder, the streets would have been otherwise silent, and the stillness of the urban setting was unnerving. 

Harry desperately hoped that the people living in the flats above the shops had managed to barricade themselves inside their homes.

Finally, after taking out another swarm of Inferi and passing through another block of buildings built in the late 1970’s before the National Trust had waged a successful campaign to halt the tearing down of Puddleby’s historical architecture, Joseph pointed to a building a fair bit taller than the rest. It was twelve stories high, an ugly grey boxy looking concrete building with tiny windows.

“There...” he panted breathlessly. “That’s the one - Puddleby City Hall - we should be able to apparate to the roof from here.”

“Maybe you and Bill should rejoin the others and try to keep things in control down here,” suggested Harry. “Once we’re up there, only our Patronuses will be any use. But they’ll still need all the help they can get down here.”

Bill shook his head. “I’m not so sure about that... If the building itself is overrun with Inferi, you’ll need some backup to keep the roof clear while you lot do what you have to do.”

Harry glanced at Dora and Hermione as Jennifer, Parvati, Ginny, Fleur, Daphne, and Luna disintegrated a number of nearby Inferi emerging from dark alleyways and broken shop windows.

“Makes sense to me, Harry,” said Dora; Hermione nodded in agreement.

“Right then, let’s do this,” Harry replied, sighing. The street rang out with the sound of eleven disapparition cracks and was still once more.

**~o0o~**

If it had been cold and wet in the streets below, it was even worse at the top of the twelve story building, the bitter wind driving the sleet with great force, whipping their hair and stinging their faces. Rivulets of water cascaded from the slushy rooftop as Hermione, Harry, Dora, and the rest of the Coven peered down at the town below, assessing the task at hand.

The two tallest of the buildings nearby were only seven or eight stories high, the rest no taller than five or six, and downtown was no bigger than eight city blocks maximum. Most of Puddleby was in relatively clear line of sight, and Harry reckoned the Corporeal Patronuses would be able to sweep around corners into most of the blind spots.

Bill stood by the door which led to the stairwell from the roof to the floors below inside. The troubled look on Joseph’s face was easy to read. Sighing, Bill passed Joseph one of the Order’s communication mirrors; like all Order members, he always carried a spare.

“Okay, this is just in case you get into trouble. Just touch it and say my name if you need me to get you out of a sticky spot... I know you want to make sure that anyone working late is safe, but if things look bad in there - if you see a whole load of them - don’t try to take them all on yourself,” said Bill firmly.

“Just get back up here,” he continued. “The most important thing right now is to make sure that no Inferi get onto this roof so that Harry and his friends can wipe out as many of them as possible without interruption... That’s the way we save the most lives - got it?”

Joseph nodded, giving Bill a look of gratitude for even a small chance to rescue a few people.

“Yeah... alright then. I’ll just give the upper floors a quick check and be right back...”

Harry shook as much water and snow from his shaggy moptop and tail as he could, and imperviused his glasses again to make sure that he could see clearly. The hordes of Undead looked like ants in the wet streets below. The soggy furry tails of Hermione, Parvati, Ginny, and Luna quivered with anticipation, as did Jennifer and Daphne’s butterfly wings, while they waited for Harry’s lead with Dora and Fleur. 

“Okay... We might as well start from this side of the building,” said Harry. “Now we know for _sure_ that _all_ of our Patronuses work on inferi, we should be able to sweep a fairly wide swath across the town with them. Anyway, we’ll keep going and work our way around the building, then check in with Dumbledore and the Order to see if there’s any missed areas that we can help them with.”

Satisfied that everyone was ready, Harry nodded.

“On my mark - NOW!” he barked.

Bill kept watch by the door, marveling at the radiant bursts of brilliant light jetting from the wands of the Potters and their friends. From their high vantage point, they were apparently able to reach all the way to the edges of the town, which he guessed was perhaps ten to fifteen square kilometres in size.

A knock on the roof-access door startled Bill. He cracked the door a bit and peeked, relieved to see Joseph back and unharmed; he opened the door wide to discover that Joseph had with him a number of muggles: several women and one man who had apparently been working late in their offices.

“What on earth is going on up here?” asked an authoritative woman with dark brown hair in business attire when she saw what appeared to be nine teenagers projecting massive floodlights as bright as the sun around the small city from thin sticks by the edge of the building. Even odder was the fact that a number of the girls seemed to be wearing extremely lifelike costume cat-tails and cat-ears - though one of the tails looked like it might be a fox tail - and two of them appeared to be dressed up as fairies.

“Er...” Joseph wasn’t sure what to say without violating the International Statute of Secrecy any more than they were already. Fortunately, Bill, as a practiced Order member close to the Inner Circle had a pat answer ready for the occasion.

“Sorry Ma’am - we’re not at liberty to give the details. Suffice it to say that we’re employing a new Top Secret weapon designed to attack the Zombies without killing everyone else and burning the city down...”

“Really? You lot don’t _look_ like MI5,” said the man with closely cropped greying hair - also wearing a business suit - as he took in the catboy and catgirls, and the butterfly girls, and the girl with pink spiky hair, Bill’s long wet ponytail, his fang earring, and Joseph’s dreadlocks with an air of disdain. 

“You look more like a load of mad Ravers to me...” he sneered. “Did your tour-bus break down?”

Bill rolled his eyes. “We’re a Special Unit - mostly scientists and a few undercover security agents. They let us wear what we like.”

The greying man - Puddleby’s Finance Manager - continued to look more than skeptical. But one of the younger women shivering from the icy damp seemed not to mind Bill’s appearance in the least; if anything her expression suggested that she found him quite enticing, and she seemed more excited by the presence of the catgirls than anything.

“Ooooh,” said the young blonde woman, batting her eyelashes at Bill. “Is your Unit like the ones on _Dr Who_ then? Are the catgirls enhanced DNA mutants? Can’t we at least have a look at what’s goin’ on?”

Bill felt himself growing a bit warm. He gave the young woman a winning smile. She was very much his “type,” and looked to be of a similar age as himself.

“Oh alright then... as long as we don’t get in the way of the... er... _Prodigies_...” Bill motioned to Joseph to keep an eye on the door and the others as he took the young woman by the arm and led her towards the Potters and their friends.

Joseph rolled his eyes and smirked a bit with a shake of his head. This was hardly the time to be chatting up muggle women. The authoritative looking woman with dark hair frowned, apparently thinking much the same thing - though entirely unaware that such things as wizards were in fact real. As the mayor’s deputy, it was simply her duty to see to the safety of the town’s employees.

“Miriam,” she said warningly, “be careful. We don’t know these people...”

“So what are those sticks they’re pointing?” Miriam asked Bill, ignoring her boss entirely. “Are they like the Doctor’s Sonic Screwdrivers?”

“Sorry - I really couldn’t say!” Bill looked extremely apologetic. “At least not unless we were much more closely acquainted,” he said quietly as he leaned in closer so that the others couldn’t hear.

“Well... I suppose I’ll just have to get to know you _much better_ then,” giggled Miriam. “Perhaps I can get your number.”

As they gradually made their way around to the other side of the building, at least half the town hopefully cleared of Inferi, Harry and Hermione noticed Ginny whispering and giggling with Luna and Parvati, whose wet furry tails quivered with mirth. Harry, Hermione, Daphne, Jennifer, Fleur, and Dora all looked to see what had distracted them and spotted Bill standing nearby and getting on like a house on fire with a blushing muggle girl who looked about college age.

“Oi - we’re working here!” Harry barked at the distracted members of the Coven; he was more amused than annoyed, and frankly glad for a moment of levity amidst all the darkness and horror.

“Sorry Harry!” giggled Ginny, Parvati, and Luna in unison.

“My fault Harry,” said Bill. “Sorry about that - don’t mind us. We’ll stay back.”

Hermione took the opportunity to make contact with Dumbledore. His crystal blue eyes looked back at her warmly from the mirror; she could see relieved people in the streets behind him.

“You are all doing splendidly!” Dumbledore beamed proudly at Hermione. “We are easily handling what few Inferi that are left in the shadows of the areas you have cleared thus far. And more of us are able to spend some time attending to the injured. I have called in more Order reinforcements and also for more of Monsieur Delacour’s people to assist us in going house to house.”

“That’s brilliant!” said Hermione, her wet furry ears twitching happily. “We’ll get on with it up here, and hopefully be finished soon. Then we can come down and help mop up...”

Harry peered over Hermione’s shoulder, having overheard the last bit.

“Excellent sir,” said Harry, feeling a swell of accomplishment. “We’re just about to tackle the other half of the city. We’ll keep you apprised of our situation.”

“Very good Harry!”

After quickly saying goodbye to Dumbledore, the Coven continued flooding the streets of Puddleby with pulses of blazing light. As time ticked by, Bill rubbed at his eyes, wondering if it was a trick of the light sparkling in the sleet, but when his new muggle girlfriend gasped, he knew he wasn’t just seeing things.

“Blimey! Is it just me...” Miriam whispered to Bill, “or are they actually glowing?”

Joseph and the muggles atop the tall grey building also buzzed with curiosity when they noticed the increasingly luminous silvery glow emanating from the teenagers. But the members of the Coven were too intensely focused on the task at hand to pay attention to anything else.

“Well that’s it then, isn’t it?” said Daphne hopefully, wiping the icy water and wet strands of hair out of her eyes when they had finally returned to their original position peering down the front of the City Hall building.

“Should be,” Harry replied. “I’ll give Dumbledore a call and see how things are going... Hang on, are we glowing again?”

“Yes!” said Luna, nodding vigorously and grinning, flinging droplets of water everywhere as she shook off her wet and bedraggled fluffy blonde tail. “Now Jennifer and Daphne really do look like fairies.”

“Wait, what’s that noise?” asked Daphne, frowning.

“Sounds like thunder to me!” said Parvati as she shook off and wrung some of the excess rainwater from her own tail. Dora shook her head as her eyes widened.

“That’s not thunder,” Dora muttered.

Sure enough, what appeared to be a number of small planes dropped below the clouds flying in formation, approaching Puddleby at a high rate of speed. Hermione squealed, furry tail bristling in horror when it suddenly struck her what was happening.

“HARRY!” she shrieked, grabbing his arm.

“Bloody Hell!” swore Harry, eyes bulging in horror as the fighter jets swooped low and roared overhead. “The RAF - but that means...”

**~o0o~**

The lead pilot of the RAF fighter jet squadron took stock of the situation below. The city streets looked a mess; in the darkness, with only city lights illuminating the town, he couldn’t quite make out what the piles of debris were, but the zombie hordes which had reportedly overrun Puddleby seemed to be strangely absent.

He did see some movement below, but as far as he could tell they could be a mix of survivors and a small incursion of zombies, relatively easy to control with the Prime Minister’s secretive “Special Units” which were usually called in for these sorts of operations.

Frowning, he contacted his base for further instructions.

“You have a go! I repeat, you have a go!” barked the base commander over the crackling radio.

“But sir...”

“This is a direct command - straight from the PM. You have your orders! Now carry them out!” the commander snapped.

“Yes sir!” sighed the squadron leader as he wheeled his jet around for another pass while the tanks and ground troops below encircled the town to cordon it off.

**~o0o~**

The Coven looked on in horror as the jets turned around and headed back towards town.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” shrieked the deputy mayor of Puddleby. “They said they were sending troops and helicopters to evacuate us... not this!” She yanked her mobile phone from her purse in a panic and let loose a stream of expletives when she realised that her service had been cut off.

Finally coming to his senses, Harry grabbed his mirror.

“Professor Dumbledore! Sir! We’ve got a problem...” Harry shouted. Dumbledore’s features appeared instantly in the mirror.

“So I see Harry!” said the headmaster with an air of calmness which he certainly did not feel. “Filius and I shall apparate to your location with some others. We should be there momentarily...”

“We might not have time sir! Will Protego Horribilis work against physical attacks?”

“Generally speaking, yes, over a relatively small area - such as Hogwarts - with enough wizards casting it simultaneously. But to protect a small city of this size against high speed projectile weapons has never been accomplished to my knowledge. It would require far more wizards with the necessary skills than we can round up in time. But we have no option but to try...”

Harry didn’t waste anymore time listening to Dumbledore; his mirror fell from his hand and shattered on the wet concrete roof of Puddleby’s city hall when he saw twenty missiles soaring towards them.

“Get in a circle, backs to each other, like we practiced,” he yelled at the Luminous Coven. “Protego Horribilis - we need to try and project it as far out around the town as we can, and concentrate hard on not letting anything through - NOW!”

Hearts thudding wildly against their ribcages, the Coven followed Harry’s instructions and concentrated with all their might as they raised their wands at the sky as one.

Bill and Joseph were still in shock, not knowing what to do. They were startled when the sleet suddenly stopped, apparently prevented from reaching them by the shimmering barely visible dome which reached from one end of Puddleby to the other.

Harry prayed this would work. He had no idea if the Coven was strong enough to project a shield powerful enough to protect a town which was a dozen square kilometres or more in size. He could only hope that their auras and the power of their nine Patronuses was an indication that they might actually be able to pull this off.

The Deputy Mayor scrunched her eyes tightly shut, crying as she embraced the quaking secretaries who had been helping her and the city Finance Manager crunch numbers late into the evening when the zombies had invaded Puddleby. The Finance Manager himself was ashen and had fallen to his knees in a slushy puddle, hands clasped before him, promising to never cheat on his wife again if he lived.

Desperately wishing that he was with his wife and his mum, Joseph looked over at Bill Weasley who was cuddling and reassuring the now sobbing blonde muggle girl.

**~o0o~**

The lead pilot of the squadron began to panic when his instrument readings began to oscillate wildly the closer he drew to the shimmering gossamer curtain which had suddenly appeared to fall over Puddleby. Something was very wrong. His gut told him that he was dead if he hit whatever that thing was.

“PULL UP! PULL UP!” he screamed at his squadron as he pulled all the way back on his steering unit.

As the jets soared up into the storm-clouds, the pilots glanced back to see their missiles exploding against the nearly invisible dome which covered the town below.

**~o0o~**

“MERLIN’S HAIRY BALLS!” yelled Alastor Moody when he saw the massive fireballs bursting against a glimmering barely visible shield above them. His magical false eye nearly flew out of his eye-socket as his one natural eye bulged. “Is... is that the Potters and their friends? ... All by themselves?”

Albus Dumbledore gaped at the sight. He was absolutely floored. Even for a Coven, their power levels appeared to be in uncharted territories. He had been quite hopeful that with the added support of himself, and a sizable number of other wizards that they might be able to augment the Coven’s shield enough to ward off a missile attack, but he had not been at all certain that it would be enough.

Filius Flitwick, who had arrived a short while ago with Severus Snape and Poppy Pomfrey, looked on in astonishment; his jaw dropped. It had taken him and all of the Professors to set up a shield at the Battle of Hogwarts, and he knew that even their shield over such a relatively small area would have likely collapsed under a concentrated missile attack.

At least half of the twenty or so missiles would have struck the castle. Not to mention that generally speaking, when casting such shield spells, one didn’t usually bother to try and block natural phenomenon such as wind and rain as the shield above was doing. The Potters and their friends had apparently gone all out to not let anything through.

A light clicked on in Filius’s head and he smacked his forehead, groaning as everything that had happened fell into place. Of course! He should have known!

The Castle Quakes! The supposed “Ongoing Upgrades” which had protected the walls of Hogwarts! The destruction of the Dementors! The destruction of Voldemort’s Inferi hordes hadn’t been a Secret Weapon at all. The Potters and their friends WERE the “Secret Weapon,” a Coven, but one so extraordinary, the likes of which hadn’t been seen in centuries perhaps.

“Albus,” squeaked the diminutive Charms Professor indignantly, “I do believe you have been withholding information from us. The Potters and their friends...”

Albus Dumbledore gave Flitwick a stern look and put a finger to his lips. Filius fell silent and Albus winked.

“Yes...” said Dumbledore very quietly. “But our advantage could be lost if the Minister were to learn of this fact and were to manage to somehow separate them. Let us keep everyone guessing for now! Not to mention that it could be most damaging to our young friends’ reputations should it ever be confirmed publicly.”

“Of course... Of course! I understand!” Filius squeaked excitedly. “You’re absolutely right Albus! Mum’s the word!”

Albus Dumbledore twinkled at Filius and nodded. His eyes returned to the cloudy and once again dark night sky as he stroked his long wet beard thoughtfully. Dumbledore found himself wondering how many muggles in Puddleby would find themselves exhibiting signs of accidental magic in the coming months.


	72. Here is the News

Thrilled and relieved to still be alive, before she could stop herself, the pretty blonde muggle girl planted a big wet kiss on the wizard with long red hair and a fang earring. Bill Weasley was pleasantly surprised to find himself the recipient of the exuberant kiss as sleet began to fall again.

Despite having made tentative arrangements for a date with Miriam, Bill hadn’t really expected things to move so quickly, but he supposed the emotional catharsis of the moment had been a bit overwhelming for her and he allowed himself to be taken along for the ride. The vibration in his pocket and the sound of his name being called interrupted Bill in mid-snog. 

Miriam watched with great interest as Bill retrieved a mirror from his pocket, and saw an elderly man’s concerned features and clear blue eyes staring back from the mirror instead of Bill’s freckled features.

“Ah, thank goodness!” said the elderly man in the mirror, looking clearly relieved to have reached someone, “I tried Harry, but he didn’t answer. I thought I would try you first before interrupting any of the oth...”

“His mirror broke sir!” Bill replied before Dumbledore could finish his sentence. “But did you see what he and the others did?” he continued excitedly, “That was incredible! I’ve never seen anything quite like it...”

“Bill,” interjected Dumbledore, a hint of urgency in his voice, “it is imperative that Harry and his companions resume the shield spell immediately!”

“Of... of course, Professor Dumbledore... sir!” Bill gulped when it became apparent that it wasn’t over just yet; he looked up and was about to call out to Harry when he saw the glowing teenagers raise their wands at the sky again. “Er... looks like they’re already on it sir!”

“Good! Very good! I’ll be there shortly...”

**~o0o~**

Harry tried to slow his breathing as his heart continued racing. The billowing smoke and orange flame of the fireball from the last missile to strike the shield dissipated above, and a drop of icy rain stung his forehead, then another, and another, mixed with splodges of wet snow. Harry swallowed nervously when he realised that the Coven’s shield had only barely held off the attack.

“Blimey!” He gasped. “That was bloody close! If there’d been any more missiles...” Harry trailed off and raised his eyebrows questioningly at Hermione and Dora as the sleet grew heavier.

“Sh...should we do it again? Or d’you reckon that’s it?” he asked, afraid that he already knew the answer.

Hermione’s furry ears and soggy tail twitched uncertainly as she peered at the older girl. Dora sighed; her own experience with military tactics was limited despite her Auror training and being a few years older than the others, but she’d seen enough muggle war films to at least give her an inkling.

“I dunno if they’ll try again, but it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Dora muttered. “Even if they don’t do another aerial assault, they’re bound to ‘ave tanks and troops with missile launchers and other ground equipment surrounding Puddleby.”

“Right!” Harry agreed. “Again it is then...”

The eight drenched young witches all nodded at Harry and returned to formation. The Luminous Coven raised their wands at the sky and the sleet halted once more. They held their breaths when moments later Dora was proved right, and more fiery explosions struck the invisible shield closer to the edge of town, coming from all sides. The building seemed to tremble slightly as the thunderous roar of the attack echoed throughout the small city.

“We’ll have to do it again!” barked Harry. “Before this one fails...”

The Coven kept their wands in the air and cast the spell again and again, wondering for how long they’d have to keep this up, and if they could manage to continue to ward off the heavy bombardment. They were momentarily distracted by the sound of apparition cracks, but quickly returned their focus to the Protego Horribilis Charm which they were recasting every few seconds at Harry’s direction.

The deputy mayor of Puddleby and the secretaries jumped and gasped when they heard the cracking sounds and saw more odd looking people arriving out of thin air, but they were otherwise not particularly alarmed given everything else that they had borne witness to so far that evening. The city’s finance manager, however, shrieked with fright and passed out, sprawling face first in a thankfully shallow, slushy puddle.

After a quick glance at the Potters and their friends, stunned by the silvery luminescent glow surrounding them, Filius Flitwick tore his eyes away and focused on the task at hand. He immediately began organising the other wizards and witches who had arrived with him and Dumbledore, thankful that they had managed to quickly assemble nearly twenty of the Order and the French wizards who were highly skilled with shield charms.

“Elphias, Dedalus, and the rest of you... do as the Potters and their friends are doing,” the diminutive Charms professor squeaked. “Backs to one another in a circle, Protego Horribilis on my mark... concentrate your efforts on projecting the shield out to the edges of the town...”

Confident that Flitwick and the other eighteen wizards had things well in hand to fortify the Coven’s own immensely formidable shield spells, Dumbledore strode over to the authoritative woman in business attire huddled nearby with several younger looking women.

The deputy mayor of Puddleby raised her eyebrows as she took in the long silvery hair and beard, the half-moon spectacles, the gaudy wet robes, the slender stick in the man’s hand... She half expected him to pull out a long thin pipe, strike a flint, and begin blowing smoke rings.

Despite her trepidation, she almost laughed as the absurdity of the situation struck her: the city overrun with zombies, the two girls dressed as fairies, the catgirls and catboy, and the two older girls, one with spiky pink hair - all of them waving wands - and now the old man who was one of several who had appeared out of thin air looking for all the world like they had just come from a casting call for the next _King Arthur_ film, or the constantly rumoured production of upcoming _Lord of the Rings_ films. 

If it weren’t the middle of January, she would have thought it some elaborate Halloween publicity stunt. But the deputy mayor was too intelligent to believe that even film crews from a large studio could pull off a hoax on this sort of scale. The only thing which made sense, was that her world had just got much larger than she had dreamed possible since she had put aside the fairy tales of her childhood...

“You lot really _aren’t_ MI5, are you?” the deputy mayor of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh said wryly, struggling to keep a straight face. “Do I have the honour of addressing Merlin or Gandalf?”

“Dear me, poor old Merlin is long since departed this mortal coil, and Gandalf is unfortunately still quite fictional - to the best of my knowledge,” chuckled the elderly wizard with twinkling blue eyes. “My name is Albus Dumbledore, and you might be...?”

“Barbara Spencer, deputy mayor of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh, and very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Dumbledore, given the circumstances. And whoever you lot really are - wizards or not - I can’t thank your youngsters enough for saving my town...”

“Well, it would appear that we are not quite out of the woods just yet, Ms Spencer. At least not until the military decides they have wasted enough firepower and cease their bombardment,” sighed Dumbledore. “But yes, they are quite remarkable young people. They are very exceptional, even among wizardkind, and I couldn’t be prouder of them.”

“Are they all yours then?” Barbara couldn’t help asking. “Your grandchildren perhaps?”

“Oh no, I never had children myself,” Dumbledore replied, sounding slightly wistful. “I am merely the headmaster of the school they attend. I operate a school for those born with magical abilities - young wizards and witches - to prepare them to join the larger community of the wizarding world, and also to teach them how to control their powers when they are among those without such abilities, such as yourself. It is all kept quite secret as a general rule of course...”

“Of course!” Barbara nodded seriously, then she glanced at the finance manager who was still lying unconscious in a puddle and rolled her eyes. “Very sensible no doubt. Some people seem to have very little stomach for things which challenge their narrow views of the world.”

“Indeed!” agreed Dumbledore. “Unfortunately, there are those even among wizardkind who also harbour such narrow ideologies.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Barbara Spencer shook her head sadly. “No doubt there are some who think themselves superior to the rest of us lowly mortals.”

“Quite so!” Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose as he gazed admiringly at the sharp-witted muggle woman. “And that brings us to why I have introduced myself to you...”

“You’re going to wipe our memories, aren’t you?” Barbara interrupted, looking even sadder. “I must assume that you have some sort of spell then, to make non-wizards forget things in these sorts of situations!?”

“Well, this sort of situation is highly unusual.” Dumbledore gestured towards the exploding artillery shells in the near distance which were being launched by tanks, missile launchers and cannons. “Normally we do not have to contend with such large hordes of the Undead sweeping through non-magical communities, and the military taking such extreme measures to suppress them with no regard for survivors.

“And given the circumstances surrounding these events, when it comes to ‘wiping your memories,’ I rather think _**not!”**_ Dumbledore continued pointedly. Then he glanced at the man lying in a puddle. “Though perhaps in _**his**_ case it might be for the best if we did,” he sighed.

“You will need all your wits about you to piece your community back together when this is over, and Obliviation can be quite befuddling. And I have no doubt that you will also be calling into question the current government’s actions here tonight...”

“Damn right I will be!” the deputy mayor of Puddleby uttered vehemently. “We were working late tonight on a preliminary budget projection for the first quarter, when the mayor’s wife called and told me that the mayor had never made it home and that those bloody zombies were swarming through their neighbourhood.

“That’s when I looked out the window, saw what was happening down below and heard the sirens... I have no idea what happened to the mayor - and I fear the worst. Then I called London, and I was told that troops and helicopters were on their way to evacuate as many as possible and that MI5 were sending their special teams to deal with the zombies... But that is clearly not what the PM had in mind.”

“That is most unfortunate, and not altogether unsurprising to me,” sighed Dumbledore, “...As I was saying, I believe that making you forget all about wizards would put you at a grave disadvantage should you call the Prime Minister to account.

“As things stand, he is in collusion with the current Minister of Magic - and she is one of the sort you aptly described as thinking that certain wizards are better than non-magicals, and especially, superior to wizards born into otherwise non-magical families...”

“Are you joking?” squeaked one of the shocked looking secretaries as Deputy Mayor Spencer gasped, a horrified look on her face.

“Sadly, no!” Dumbledore shook his head. “The attack against Puddleby by Inferi - those to which you refer as either ‘zombies’ or ‘living dead’ - was in fact instigated and engineered by our Minister to put down with extreme prejudice a group of wizards who live among you, some born of non-magicals, and some born of mixed families.

“It is my grave displeasure to inform you that your town was targeted as part of an escalating civil war between a group of wizards who call themselves ‘Pureblood’ - those who come from families of wizards whose magical lineage stretches back hundreds or even thousands of years - and wizards who are born into non-magical and mixed families.

“Currently, the Purebloods - the worst of them in any case, the Supremacists - have assumed complete control of the Wizard Ministry. It is a bit more complicated than that of course - not all who belong to ‘Pureblood’ families are Supremacist, and many so-called ‘Half-bloods’ support the Supremacist Agenda.

“And even the current Prime Minister - completely non-magical though he is - is in league with the Pureblood Supremacists, no doubt in part to profit himself and his party, and to also improve and maintain the profits and privileges enjoyed by certain sectors of the non-magical Elite and the Wealthy. Judging from the non-magical papers which I read, his main constituency appears to be many leaders among the banking and corporate communities...”

“Unbelievable!” gasped the appalled deputy mayor of Puddleby. “The mayor and I never really trusted the PM’s lot - we belong to the other party - but it’s still quite shocking to see how far he’s willing to go. Are... are the Royals involved too then?”

“To the best of my knowledge, no!” Dumbledore replied. “They are as unaware of wizards as are most other non-magical people. As a matter of law established by the global governing body of wizards - an organisation similar to the United Nations - only a single point of contact is legally permissible between the heads of wizarding governments and heads of non-magical governments - preferably those belonging to elected and semi-elected bodies - Prime Ministers, Presidents, Premiers... etc.

“Only in nations with entirely non-elected governments are aristocrats or self-appointed leaders in contact with heads of wizarding governments. Thus, in the UK, only the Prime Minister is allowed to know of the existence of wizards without restriction... though legal exceptions are of course made for non-magical blood relatives of wizards, and those non-magicals who are married to wizards.

“It is part of a law called the International Statute of Secrecy. And given its extreme narrowness of interpretation, it is a situation which I have come to believe is politically disastrous for all concerned,” concluded Dumbledore.

“Yes... yes! I think I quite agree with you Mr Dumbledore!” Deputy Mayor Spencer clapped a hand to her mouth, feeling more than a bit panicky. “Wha...what can I do? This is horrible! How can I possibly confront the PM over his decision to try and destroy Puddleby if he’s being backed by wizards and it’s all a big conspiracy?”

“For the time-being, it would probably be best for you and your secretaries to maintain the illusion that you know nothing of our world. The PM would most certainly use it against you,” said Dumbledore wisely. “Act as if you believe that MI5 and the military are solely responsible. That will put the onus upon the Prime Minister himself to come up with some sort of explanation to the non-magical media as to why the town largely survived the hordes of ‘Zombies’ and why it also survived his government’s decision to obliterate the town.

“He will not be able to deny that he took such a decision after tonight - no doubt the BBC and Sky TV are already broadcasting live accounts from beyond the military containment lines at this very moment - and they also will no doubt be quite puzzled as to how Puddleby passed through the bombardment unscathed.

“I would be quite surprised if the Opposition in the Parliament did not at least begin an Inquiry into what has happened here, and the Prime Minister’s role if you are careful in how you word your charges...”

“Yes... yes! That sounds a very sensible course of action...” the deputy mayor agreed, nodding.

“I will also be leaving a sizable contingent of wizards to look after you personally,” Dumbledore continued, “and to look after Puddleby, to prevent any attempt to send Ministry Wizards to take control of the town. It will stretch our forces a bit thin in terms of confronting the Ministry in other parts of the UK... but I believe it to be necessary, and our ranks are growing in any case as more wizards join our cause...”

“Ah, thank you! Very good! I cannot thank you enough Mr Dumbledore!” Deputy Mayor Spencer let out a sigh of relief. “Will... will I be able to speak with you again?”

“Absolutely!” Dumbledore smiled at Barbara Spencer warmly and handed her one of the Order’s communication mirrors. “This is a bit like your mobile phone. Simply touch it and say my name, and you shall either be able to speak with me, or leave a message. And I shall be able to call you back in much the same way.

“There is no question that we shall be speaking again, as you and your secretaries will likely be called upon to provide testimony to the International Confederation of Wizards - the wizarding ‘UN’ that I previously mentioned... I am doing my utmost to put an end to Supremacist control of the Ministry, and I am currently working with International Authorities to expose...”

At that moment Dumbledore was interrupted by one of the wizards who was helping to maintain the shield against the muggle military weapons. The man who shuffled over looked as ancient as Dumbledore himself, though he was shorter, paunchier, and jowlier. But his robes were just as brightly coloured and just as sparkly as Dumbledore’s.

“Albus, I do believe the muggle military has spent themselves,” he proffered cheerfully.

“Ah, splendid news indeed Elphias!” beamed Dumbledore. “We should be able to finish cleanup operations and depart shortly then.”

“And by the way Albus, your young Mr Potter and his wife and friends, have you noticed their remarkable illumination?” Elphias shook his head in amazement as he peered at the exhausted teens who were finally putting their wands away at Flitwick’s insistence. “I’ve heard of such things in the Orient and in the Western world’s ancient past of course, but I thought them only myths. In all my years I’ve never seen anything like it...”

“Nor I, Elphias!” Dumbledore admitted with an intrigued expression. It crossed the headmaster’s mind that the visibility and intensity of the Coven’s auras was very likely related in some manner to the apparent increase in the power of their spells that they had displayed tonight, but he was very curious as to how it had come about.

“Potter? Did you just say Potter?” The name rang a bell with the deputy mayor of Puddleby. Barbara Spencer frowned pensively, suddenly realising why the boy had looked vaguely familiar; she had been so wrapped up in the immediate situation that it hadn’t occurred to her until now. 

“Is... is that _**Harry**_ Potter then? ...the fifteen year old boy who is Wanted in connection with the terrorist Sirius Black regarding the recent riots and bomb-threats in London?” 

“Indeed!” said Dumbledore with a heavy sigh. “The Prime Minister ordered a warrant for the arrests of Sirius Black and Harry Potter at the behest of our Minister Umbridge. The charges against them both are quite false, I can assure you. 

“In fact, poor Harry has been the prime target of Pureblood Supremacists since his birth. His parents were assassinated by a terrorist during an attempt on his life when he was only fifteen months of age. Harry was very fortunate to survive the attack, with little more than a scar to show for it. 

“And the young woman beside Harry - his wife - being born of non-magical parentage, she has also been a frequent target of those long associated with the terrorist. Said terrorist is now deceased, but his former supporters have thrown their full backing behind the current Minister of Magic.”

The young secretaries all gasped and peered at Harry Potter sympathetically, who was none the wiser as he and the young witches with him were now collapsed on the wet, slushy roof, slumped against a low concrete wall surrounding a bank of air-vents and taking a well-deserved rest, not caring at all about the sleet which continued to plummet.

“It was a frame-up all along! I said it right from the start, didn’t I, Veronica?” said one of the secretaries to one of the others who nodded vigorously. “I thought he looked too sweet to be a terrorist.”

“And too right you were!” the one named Veronica responded. “Poor kid!”

“I _**knew**_ there was something fishy about that whole thing,” snapped Barbara Spencer indignantly, her motherly instincts getting the best of her.

“Wait, did you just say that girl with the bushy hair is his _wife?”_ Veronica gasped, as she processed what Mr Dumbledore had just said. “They’re a bit young for that aren’t they?”

“Oh, young love! It was frightfully romantic!” sighed Elphias wistfully as Dumbledore twinkled at him. “Mr Potter and his wife were both emancipated due to the harrowing circumstances in their lives - targeted as they both have been by the Extremists.

“They relied upon each other heavily for support, fell in love, and eloped not much more than a year ago, last New Year to be precise - according to Xeno Lovegood’s publication in any case - and I’ve always been quite a fan of the _Quibbler_...”

“Ah, thank you for reminding me Elphias...” began Dumbledore, “Ms Spencer, this is my very dear friend, Elphias Doge, and as he has just reminded me, Mr Lovegood and his reporter Rita Skeeter are somewhere in the vicinity documenting the evening’s events... Would you mind giving a televised interview for a wizarding audience? ...”

**~o0o~**

When everything seemed to have settled down, and Rita Skeeter had begun doing interviews, Bill Weasley tried to quietly slip away with Miriam; Mr Lovegood and Skeeter had agreed with Dumbledore that interviewing the secretaries wasn’t necessary. Ginny caught Bill’s eye and smirked at him.

Bill frowned and opened his mouth, but Ginny cut him off.

“Don’t worry Bill!” Ginny giggled. “I won’t tell Mum.... _yet!”_

Bill shook his head and rolled his eyes when Luna and Parvati joined in the giggles, then he turned his attention back to Miriam. 

Miriam bit her lip, peering at Bill uncertainly when it appeared that he might be preparing to say goodnight. She looked more than a bit anxious. Finally she seemed to reach some sort of decision.

“Erm... Bill, I... I hope you don’t think this is too forward of me,” Miriam began tentatively, “but... er... I don’t think I wanna be alone tonight - and I don’t have any family in Puddleby. D’you think... erm... would you mind, c...coming home with me? ... We don’t have to... you know... I mean...” she sputtered, turning all red and flustered.

“Oh blimey! I’m sorry, I must seem a right idiot - a real trollop... I’m just a bit scared to be alone right now!” Miriam finally managed to blurt out.

Bill swallowed nervously. He was quite pleased to have made a real connection with someone he liked, despite the dreadful circumstances, and Miriam seemed to be really sweet. But things did seem to be moving a bit too quickly, even for him. As Bill gazed back into Miriam’s earnest eyes, he decided that she really was just frightened to be alone and simply wanted to be with someone she felt safe with.

“Yeah, okay, alright then,” said Bill gently, nodding. “They don’t seem to need me anymore. Dumbledore’s got loads of other wizards to keep an eye on the military while they try to work out what happened. D’you want me to take you home now?”

“Y...yes please! I c...could really use a cuppa tea right now. M...maybe something a little s...stronger even to s...settle my nerves.” 

Indeed, even though everything seemed to be quite over, the emotional roller-coaster of an evening had taken its toll, and Miriam was beginning to tremble like a leaf.

“Alright then,” Bill agreed, giving Miriam a smile as he wrapped his arms around her again. “How far away are you? Close enough to walk?”

“Yeah... just th...three blocks that way.” Miriam pointed, her hand shaking. “I have a flat in that building over there... Hopefully it’ll s...still be okay...”

“I’m sure it will be, but if there’s any damage, I can fix it,” offered Bill.

“Y...you can do that?”

“Well, I’m no Harry Potter or Dumbledore, but I think I can manage,” said Bill impishly, giving Miriam a wink as he showed her his wand. “I’m not half-bad with magic myself... In fact, I probably ought to Disillusion us so we don’t have to worry about being stopped by any military patrols on the way back to your place.”

“Wh...what’s that then?” Miriam asked nervously.

“It’s a bit like invisibility - more like a chameleon’s camouflage though, but far more effective...”

“Oh... you mean like th...those alien hunters in the _Predator_ films?”

“Er... pardon?” Bill looked flummoxed.

Miriam grinned. “I’ll th...throw on a video when we get back to my place. You’ll s...see...”

**~o0o~**

Harry yawned, blinking as he awoke, thinking that coffee might be a good call instead of tea today. He felt absolutely wrecked. He was a bit puzzled by his surroundings at first, then he remembered that he and the Coven had passed out in the parlour; they had returned home to Jennifer’s manor and crashed hard, never even making it to their rooms.

In fact, Harry could still barely move, but that was mostly because Hermione was draped across him on one of the sofas, her bushy tresses tickling his chin. 

Luna, Ginny, and Parvati were sprawled across the other sofa; and Jennifer and Daphne were curled up together on one of the settees, as were Fleur and Dora. The luminous auras of the Coven had apparently faded as they slept. 

Harry glanced at the clock on the mantlepiece. It was nearly seven, and he felt like just going back to sleep, but others had already begun stirring.

“Mmm... ‘Morning Harry,” murmured Hermione with a smile, blearily giving him a kiss. “You look really worn out.”

“Yeah... I’ll say I am!” Harry groaned, stretching his arms out as much as he could without knocking Hermione off him. “I’m bloody knackered! I just want to go back to sleep for a few more hours... Maybe we should just go upstairs to bed for a bit.”

“And miss the news?” Hermione raised her eyebrows at Harry and several memories tumbled into place in his befuddled brain.

“Oh... er, right!” said Harry. “I almost forgot about the Order’s pirate broadcast. It should be starting any minute.” 

Hermione shifted a bit so that Harry could grab the Wiz-Vision remote. The screen flickered to life just in time as he fumbled the controller, and he winced as the sound of rousing music struck his eardrums.

“Bloody ‘ell! Not so loud!” Dora moaned as she and Fleur struggled to open their eyes.

“Sorry Dora!” Harry grinned as he dialed the volume back down. “My fingers are a bit stiff...”

**~o0o~**

They had both been expecting it after they had been informed of the events late last night by the team of Unspeakables monitoring the situation in Puddleby-on-the-Marsh from behind the perimeter the muggle military had set. But it didn’t make the news any easier to swallow.

The Senior Undersecretary had arrived early that morning at the Minister’s house, and they were both sipping their tea feeling a sense of trepidation when the bombastic music heralding the WVN morning news began.

Sure enough, a burst of static swamped the screen before it faded to black and new images appeared - the image of the dark streets of Puddleby inundated with lurching corpses, the sound of screams and crackling spells, and the voice of Rita Skeeter - on-screen herself as she described the events she was witnessing live at the scene.

The scene changed several times as Rita made her way through the small city with various groups of wizards - their faces blurred, excepting Dumbledore’s which was visible to all - saving muggles from the marauding Inferi. The footage was unflinching, showing also the bodies of muggles and wizards who hadn’t escaped the carnage.

The Minister and her deputy watched, mouths agape when they witnessed for the first time the blazing effects of the Secret Weapon as pulsating bursts of blindingly brilliant light swept through the city and the Inferi turned to ash and bone. Then the screen displayed scenes of muggle fighter jets and heavy artillery bombarding the town, unsuccessfully trying to destroy it.

Finally, the scene changed again as Rita conducted an interview with an unblurred local wizard, a young man with dreadlocks who explained how the Inferi had been sent to quell their resistance to the Ministry’s attempts to take the muggleborn the previous day.

Another interview followed with the muggle deputy mayor of Puddleby, who explained how the Prime Minister had sent the military to obliterate the town, instead of rescuing its residents as he’d promised. Rita Skeeter suggested strongly that he must have made a deal to coordinate with the Ministry of Magic at the expense of the non-magical people of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh.

When it was over, and the regularly scheduled programming had resumed in progress, Senior Undersecretary Percy Weasley was white; his freckles, splashes of red paint against a blank canvas. He glanced at Minister Umbridge who appeared to be turning a plum shade of purple.

“I... I c...can’t bloody believe it!” Percy sputtered, waving a hand wildly, “He’s _**openly**_ violating the International Statute of Secrecy... Dumbledore can’t get away with that, can he, Dolores?”

“Unfortunately, it would appear that he _**can**_ at the moment!” snarled Dolores. “My own friends in the ICW tell me that the Committee for Statutory Violations is nearly entirely in Dumbledore’s corner, including the Chair of the Committee, the Senior German delegate to the ICW, Angelika Machschnell. There is one on that committee who is sympathetic to our cause, but he cannot speak his mind freely without risking his seat.

“This is a complete and utter disaster - Dumbledore knows exactly what he is doing. Now that he’s brought Puddleby’s muggle deputy mayor to the wizarding public’s attention to spread his seditious nonsense, we shan’t be able to touch her without raising more questions in the ICW...

“He’s just _**daring**_ us to try something - goading us to launch an open attack on Puddleby! But we can’t rise to the bait Percy. ... Dumbledore has no doubt left forces there hoping to entrap us and ensure that the ICW Inquiry goes his way”

“But what are we going to do about Puddleby then?” Percy fumed. 

Dorlores’s brows furrowed as the gears in her head whirred busily away. Maybe this wasn’t such an utter disaster after all. Finally Dolores seemed to have reached a conclusion.

“For the moment, Puddleby will have to be written off as a dead loss. But Dumbledore’s scheming gives me an idea. We can turn the tables on him - we shall have to draw him out and entrap _**him**_ instead!

“But failing that - and we must be prepared for that possible eventuality - at the very least we can force Dumbledore to reveal the Secret Weapon with which he is destroying the Inferi... and he now also appears to have devised a means of generating a powerful shield spell large enough to defend an entire city, which we also need to examine up close.

“And I just _**know**_ Potter was involved somehow - he was the one to employ the Secret Weapon at Hogwarts according to the accounts of those who witnessed it - I am nearly certain he did so again. If we can get a hold of the Weapon, or a closer look at it, and discover the means by which Dumbledore shielded Puddleby, we will at least be able to employ countermeasures and gain an even footing in future engagements, and possibly capture Potter while we’re at it.

“We can work out a complete plan later though Percy,” Dolores shook her head and pursed her lips, grinding her teeth, “In the meantime, I must be off to Number Ten Downing Street for an appointment - the PM must be having kittens...”

“We need some sort of response to Skeeter too...” Percy suggested loudly. “Ron seems to be coming around finally. Perhaps another direct ‘appeal’ to Potter might have some effect at least in suppressing Dumbledore’s recruiting efforts? ...especially if Ron’s heart seems to be more in it this time?”

“Perhaps!” Dolores looked skeptical. “I agree that a media response is a necessity, and I shall certainly be conferring with the Prime Minister a bit on that score - he is closely acquainted with an exceptionally powerful muggle propagandist who owns media outlets in Australia and Britain who could prove to be quite helpful. 

“According to the PM, the man is already familiar with wizards, perhaps through family, and is primed to launch a twenty four hour television news network in the US next month. He’s meeting us this morning and I can run it by him. But to be perfectly honest, I’m not certain that Ronald will have much impact on a second go round. 

“Still - perhaps as part of a larger effort - it couldn’t hurt to at least prep him for a short spot. Why don’t you remain here and try working with Ronald while I’m in London today.” 

**~o0o~**

The Coven were once again more than impressed by Skeeter’s masterful skills at turning news into a powerful political statement, and Harry was once again extremely glad that she was on their side now. But he was also dead tired.

“Right then, that was brilliant! But I’m off back to bed for a bit, Hermione. How about you?”

“That sounds like a lovely idea,” said Hermione, letting out another yawn. 

“I know I’m ready for a bit more sleep,” said Daphne, yawning herself as she glanced at Jennifer, who nodded in agreement. That seemed to be the general consensus among the rest of the Coven as everyone wearily staggered to their feet.

Hermione frowned when she felt a vibration in one of her pockets. Harry groaned as she pulled out her mirror and Dumbledore’s features appeared. 

“Good Morning Mrs Potter! Ah... and good morning Harry!” 

“Good Morning Professor Dumbledore!” Hermione replied a bit weakly.

“Er... ‘Morning sir!” Harry tried very hard not to sound as exhausted as he knew he looked.

“My apologies to you both...” said Dumbledore, looking more than a bit tired himself. “I shan’t keep you but for a moment - I am sure that we could all do with a bit more sleep. I was just hoping that you and your friends might drop by Hogwarts later this afternoon - perhaps around teatime - for a discussion about... _things_...”

**~o0o~**

Ron gulped nervously as he pulled his ear away from the door and flung himself back on the bed next to the tea-tray with his half-eaten breakfast when he heard his brother Percy’s footsteps coming back up the stairs. Ron had managed to overhear bits of the conversation - not everything, but he had heard enough. The Minister had just left for London, and Percy was staying, in the belief that Ron had finally been turned to their side.

Ron’s heart thudded in his ears as he contemplated his plan of action, hoping desperately that his plan, feeble as it was, would still be enough to win his freedom. As Percy’s footsteps drew nearer, Ron held his breath...


	73. Weasley Ways

Molly Weasley waved her wand at the pan with the bacon, trying very hard not to think about her two missing sons. One had gone astray the day he had joined the Ministry, and the other was currently being held captive by the former, somewhere unknown. She took some solace in the fact that Charlie was safe in Romania at the moment, looking after dragons at the Preserve because they were understaffed.

One by one, the bacon strips rearranged themselves for a nice even crisp while she flipped over the fried eggs in the pan she was tending to. She was just arranging the food on the plates when her husband blearily staggered down the rickety stairs.

“Here you go Arthur, eggs flipped, just as you and Bill like them,” Molly beamed at her husband. “Where is Bill anyway? Still in bed? I know you both didn’t get in till after three last night, but still, it’s already seven thirty...”

Arthur flushed as he peered guiltily at his wife.

“Oh... er... Bill didn’t come back with me last night,” he muttered, focusing his attention on his steaming cup of tea.

“Why ever not?” snapped Molly. “I told him I’d feel much better if he stayed at home with us while he’s taking time off from Gringotts to help the Order...”

Molly’s husband sighed, knowing that she wouldn’t let it go. If he wanted a peaceful breakfast, he’d just have to get it all out at once and hope for the best.

“Erm... well, he met a girl last night while helping to rescue muggles from the Inferi...”

“And he went home with her already?” Molly frowned. “That’s a bit quick off the mark don’t you think? Who is she then? Another French trollop? One of the witches that Mr Delacour sent over to help the Order no doubt!”

Arthur struggled not to roll his eyes, thinking back to the French girl that Bill had met during the Triwizard Tournament while visiting Hogwarts for the Final Task: Yvette something or other - he couldn’t quite recall her last name. She and Bill had got on like a house on fire in the stands while everyone else had been eyeing the outermost hedgerow of the maze in boredom and anticipation.

Then Bill had invited the pretty blonde Beauxbatons girl to dinner the following week - the week the Potters had been in London for the trial. Ron and Ginny had been home for a few days before Ron went off to Ireland and Ginny returned to Hogwarts. 

It had been a complete disaster. Molly had done her utmost to restrain herself and be on her best behaviour. Arthur had to give Molly some credit for doing as well as she had, but it had been impossible for her to completely hide her disdain. But Ginny’s attitude hadn’t helped; not to mention Ron openly ogling the girl with a gormless expression on his face.

The poor girl and Bill had felt uncomfortable the entire time, and the next time Arthur had seen Bill, his son had glumly told him that she couldn’t be with someone whose family had such little regard for the French.

After that, Arthur had taken Ginny aside for a serious conversation about not being rude to people just because her mother didn’t like them. Arthur had also tried to impress upon Ron that it was considered impolite to drool while staring at pretty girls - that it was better to just take quick surreptitious glances out of the corner of one’s eye - but he expected that his breath had been wasted on Ron.

Arthur noted that his wife was still glowering at him while breakfast began to cool. He adjusted his glasses, took another sip of tea and cleared his throat.

“No... the girl is British actually,” he began, eyeing his wife warily, “a muggle secretary he met in the building he was securing. He does seem to quite like her, but he only went home with the girl to look after her because she was frightened to be alone - her family doesn’t live in Puddleby. And I don’t blame the poor girl after all those Inferi, and then having the muggle military set loose on her town.”

“Oh!” said Molly brightly, her frown vanishing. “Well why didn’t you just say so to begin with Arthur? She sounds positively delightful! You should have Bill bring her to tea or dinner... Just remember this time not to scare her off...”

 _“Me?”_ said Arthur incredulously, forgetting himself momentarily.

“Yes, _**you!**_ ...With your silly self-deprecating jokes about rubber duckies and pretending you don’t know how to say ‘electricity’ or ‘plumber’...”

“Nonsense Molly - it puts muggles at ease to think that they know things that wizards don’t.”

Molly rolled her eyes, remembering how uncomfortable Arthur had made Hermione’s parents feel that ill-fated day in Diagon Alley, before he had got in a fight with Malfoy. For such a smart man with exceptional muggle engineering skills as well as having been top of the class at Hogwarts, her husband could be quite thickheaded at times.

**~o0o~**

Percy Weasley unlocked and opened the door of the room that was currently occupied by his youngest brother. Percy smiled wryly and shook his head slightly when he saw Ron still digging into his breakfast, currently shoveling sausage and the remnants of the scrambled eggs into his mouth.

Ron looked up from his tea-tray, hoping his own expression was more nonchalant than he felt, his heart thumping wildly.

“Heypercewazup!?” Ron mumbled with a grin as he tried to swallow the huge mouthful of food and nearly choked.

Percy rolled his eyes and chortled. The poor table manners were a good sign that Ron was obviously feeling much better about things and that Percy’s efforts hadn’t been in vain.

“I was wondering, Ron, how would you feel about being on the Wiz-Vision again?” Percy asked hopefully. “...Without being imperiused this time? If all goes well, I’m sure that I can talk the Minister into arranging an outing to Diagon Alley... maybe even to buy you a Firebolt while we’re there...”

“Really? That sounds smashing Percy...” answered Ron, looking extremely interested. “And if I go on the Wiz-Vision enough, I’ll be more famous than Harry in no time.”

“Precisely!” beamed Percy. “Excellent, Ron! If you’re finished with breakfast, we can go downstairs and work on your lines in the sitting room for a bit.”

“Yeah, sure! I’m done eating for now...” said Ron eagerly, hastily gulping down the rest of his pumpkin juice.

Ron followed Percy out of the horribly pink room into the equally horribly pink hallway. At least the bannister of the stair railing was plain wood, mahogany polished to a high sheen. At the bottom of the stairs Ron spied the kitchen and dining room to his right, and a hallway leading to what looked like a laundry-room near the back door.

Through the threshold on his left, where Percy was heading, Ron could see a Welsh Dresser with shelves full of collectible plates with pictures of horribly pink puppies gamboling across them. Ron reckoned now was as good a time as any.

“We’ll just take a seat on the sofa...” Percy began saying as he turned his head to look at Ron. Percy’s smile was replaced with a look of horror.

“What the hell...?” were the last words that Percy managed to blurt out before Ron’s fist crashed into the side of his face. Ron furiously slammed his fist into Percy’s face two more times and his brother dropped to the floor, out like a light.

Ron scowled at his prone brother on the floor, his fist still shaking with nervousness and anger, and not a small bit of pain, his knuckles bleeding. Nostrils flaring, Ron almost kicked his brother, unconscious though Percy already was, barely managing to restrain himself.

“If you weren’t my brother...” Ron muttered savagely. “...Bastard! It’d take more than a bloody Firebolt to turn me into a Slytherin! That was for torturing Dad...”

He had hit Percy hard enough to hurt his knuckles, but still, Ron didn’t know how long Percy would be out. Ron looked longingly at Percy’s wand. He considered taking it, but thought better of it. Ron knew he’d be tempted to use it and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself once he’d departed.

“...Still, I reckon it’s safe enough while I’m still in the Minister’s house,” he told himself out loud. Ron took Percy’s wand and used a stunning spell on him for good measure, thanking his lucky stars that Fred and George had taught him the spell.

“That oughta keep you quiet for a bit,” Ron muttered again, replacing the wand in Percy’s pocket. “Wonder if that hag has a broom in this bloody place...”

Ron searched the hallway and the kitchen, looking for a broom closet, not bothering with the Floo system because he knew it was being monitored closely. He peered in a cupboard under the stairs, jumping back in fright when a few spiders scurried out. But he breathed a sigh of relief and grinned when he spied a Comet 220 which looked like it had been used more for sweeping than riding.

“Excellent! You’re no Firebolt, but at least you’re better than Charlie’s old Shooting Star.”

Remembering that it was cold outside, Ron looked in a wardrobe by the front door, happy to find a thick furry overcoat, not caring in that moment how stupid and girly it would make him look. 

As he headed for the back door, Ron shot another furious glance at Percy who was still out cold on the pink shag carpet in the sitting room. Ron swallowed and fought back sudden tears, wondering if he would ever see Percy again - the annoying old Percy who was only a pompous prat, a bossy know-it-all... not this mad twisted Slytherin version of Percy that he’d become.

“...Though I suppose you always were a bit of a Slytherin,” Ron said quietly as he thought back to how Percy had always been selfish, greedily ambitious, and looked down on the rest of the family as if he were a vastly superior being adopted into a family of dunces.

A sudden flush of shame crossed Ron’s features, recognising a few of his older brother’s worst traits in himself. Percy had known only too well the buttons to push to try and turn Ron against Harry. Then Ron felt a little better, knowing that he’d managed to put most of his jealousy and feelings of inadequacy behind him. And there was no way that Perce could’ve ever got him to believe in that Pureblood rubbish.

His thoughts turned to Seamus and to some of the girls who had seemed more interested in Ron after he’d helped Gryffindor win the quidditch match. 

With pleasant fantasies in the back of his mind - now much more realistic - of he and Seamus hooking up with a couple of girls together, and getting a bit of action under the quidditch stands, and of eventually becoming a famous professional quidditch player, Ron stalked out of the Minister’s back door and jumped onto the broom, soaring up into the thinning clouds without once looking back.

Even with a thick furry coat it was still bloody cold, but once above the clouds, Ron tried to decide which direction to go. He had no real idea where the hell in Britain the Minister’s house was, but it hadn’t looked like Scotland or Wales down below.

But it was still early morning and the sun was still rising, and even though he was no Hermione, Ron at least had an idea of which way was North and South. He considered trying to find his way back home, to the Burrow, but then he reckoned that there was only Mum and Dad, and that it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Ron sighed when he realised that he would be safer at Hogwarts, which was probably hundreds of miles away. And it should be easier to find as there was no mistaking the mountainous region surrounding the Castle and the Black Lake. He’d know the landscape when he saw it. There was nothing for it. Keeping the sun to his right for the time-being, Ron began heading North.

**~o0o~**

Minister Dolores Umbridge felt much better after visiting with the Prime Minister. The PM had been in a bit of a panic when she had arrived, but he too felt a sense of relief at the conclusion of their meeting with his good friend - the muggle media mogul who had arrived from New York on a private jet shortly after Dolores and the PM had downed their first round of brandy while grimly watching the BBC.

The deputy mayor of Puddleby had been sworn in as Acting Mayor by the Puddleby City Council early that morning, and she had been giving interviews on television ever since, demanding that Parliament open an investigation into the failure of the military and MI5 to evacuate Puddleby as the PM had promised, and expressing equal befuddlement as to how the city had survived both the rampaging Zombies and the military’s mysterious decision to attack the city instead of rescuing it.

For their part, muggle television News Announcers and Experts were having a field day speculating about the events - a few of them even going so far as to suggest that an Act of Providence which proved the existence of God had saved the town of Puddleby. A rather well known gadfly had responded by pointedly asking if that meant God hated all the people in small communities and neighbourhoods who had previously been killed by Zombies.

And there were indeed rumbles among the Opposition Parties in the Parliament about opening an Investigation. Even a few rogue members of the Prime Minister’s party had implied that they might support an Inquiry. The Royals had of course maintained their neutrality in a Press Release from the Queen’s office, expressing her utmost confidence in the government to conduct itself fairly and with openness and integrity.

The media kingpin had snorted with derision and laughed outright at the Queen’s written statement, tossing back his third whiskey before the television had been turned off. He had peered shrewdly at Dolores.

“Crikey - what a bunch o’ bloody morons, eh? So... you’re the one ‘oo introduced television to the wizard world!” the perceptive man had wryly drawled in his Australian accent. “And I ‘ave t’say, I’m quite the fan. That Bill O’Hannity fella - I could use someone like him on my new American news network.

“Don’t look so surprised Minister Umbridge, I’ve met a few wizards in my time - some that aren’t too fussy about the International Statute of Secrecy for the right price - and they are currently in my employ, keepin’ me informed of everything goin’ on in the countries that I’ve invested in the most.”

Dolores had returned the muggle’s smirk with one of her own, knowing that she had met one who would have done well in Slytherin had he been a wizard.

“Splendid,” she replied in her sweetest, breathiest tone, “This shall be much easier without the pretense then!”

“Too right, it will,” the man chuckled. “And I must say your programming’s brilliant for the most part. Looks like you and your people are doin’ just fine...”

“Ah, well thank you very much,” Dolores responded. “Unfortunately, one of my best propagandists is now working for the other side, and they have been... what is it you muggles say? Ah... yes, they have been ‘hacking’ into our feed with broadcasts of their own.”

“Yeah, I caught it just as my flight pulled into ‘Eathrow.” The mogul nodded sympathetically. “Still, I daresay you’ll need less help crafting an effective media response than my good friend here,” he added with a wink at the scowling Prime Minister.

The mogul had been right in the end. Dolores had quickly run her ideas to counter the pirated broadcasts by him to his great approval. The rest of the morning had been spent devising a media strategy to paint the Prime Minister as a victim of circumstances, military bungling, and hounding by his political enemies. Which was for the best, as there was very little that magic alone could have done to solve the PM’s problems.

As it was, he would still likely face an Inquiry in the Parliament, but it would no doubt peter out eventually after a few months of media reports blasting the Opposition as loony ‘Conspiracy Theorists.’

Satisfied that they had all done the best they could, given the situations they faced, Dolores had entered the green flames in the hearth and arrived in her office back at the Ministry to make plans with the sub-department of the Unspeakable Office which handled propaganda before returning home to see how Percy was getting on with Ronald.

It was nearly noon when she stepped out of her own fireplace at home. Dolores’s face fell when she spied Percy Weasley sprawled on the floor groaning and holding his head, one of his eyes swollen shut and purple, his cheek bruised and bleeding.

“Oh you poor dear!” Dolores gasped as she scurried to Percy’s side and helped him stagger to the sofa. “Did Ronald do this to you? Did he get your wand somehow?”

“No! He didn’t take it at all. The little bugger actually hit me... three times! I can’t believe it!” Percy moaned.

“I can’t believe it!” Percy repeated. “I was so sure... He’s always been jealous of Potter - just as much as he hero-worshiped that jumped up little blood-traitor! ... That’s why I thought he’d be easier to un-brainwash than Ginny! I don’t understand! I swear... I thought Ron had finally seen reason...”

“There, there, dear,” said Dolores in her most motherly fashion as she summoned her first-aid kit from the bathroom. “Never mind, never mind...” she sighed, pushing back at her own bitter memories. 

Percy’s relationship with his family reminded Dolores strongly of her own. In her own case, Dolores’s estrangement from her father was due to her embarrassment at his appalling lack of ambition; she had sacked him from his job as a floor mopper in the Department of Magical Sanitation and sent him packing with a reasonable stipend to keep him out of sight. 

As to her muggle mother and squib brother... well, they were best long forgotten, wherever they were currently living in the muggle world.

“...I know how painful it can be when family disappoints you,” Dolores assured Percy as she dabbed a clothful of Essence of Dittany on his injuries. “Please don’t fret dear. Ronald’s escape is no great loss. ... Just remember that you’re worth a hundred times more to me than any other member of your family! You’re the smart one, and you have done so much to restore your family’s good name...”

**~o0o~**

The smell of bacon and eggs frying woke Bill Weasley. Yawning, he looked around the living room of the flat from the sofa on which he had been sleeping, reminding himself of where he was. The clock on the wall indicated that it was after noon, fast approaching one o’clock. He had been snuggled with Miriam on the sofa watching the television until finally falling asleep as the first rays of the cold wintry sun peeked through the curtains. Apparently the recent storm which had blanketed Britain had finally passed during the wee hours of the morning while watching the telly.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” said Miriam, grinning as she bustled into the living room with a tea-tray which she set on the coffee-table in front of the sofa. “I hope you like your eggs flipped.”

“Perfect! Just the way Mum makes them,” Bill beamed back at Miriam, taking a few sips from the glass of orange juice she had brought him.

“So what did you think of the _Predator_ films?” Miriam asked as Bill buttered a crumpet.

“More terrifying than the Inferi,” Bill chortled. “Especially that huge bloke with all the muscles in the first one,” he added with a wink and a fake shudder of fright as he dipped his crumpet into the runny yolk of the egg.

Miriam giggled.

“You were right though...” Bill continued after swallowing a bite of the crumpet and a piece of bacon. “The Predators’ camouflage is a lot like the Disillusionment Charm. It would be really interesting to see how they would fare against the creatures in the other film on the video-tape - that _Alien_ film. I’d love to see a film where the Predators faced of with the, er... Xeno-whatsits...”

“Xenomorphs,” Miriam interjected.

“Yeah those!” Bill nodded. “Speaking of which, I know a bloke by the name of Hagrid who would give anything to have one of _those_ horrors as a pet...”

**~o0o~**

Somehow, despite the number of young people in his office, Dumbledore’s office didn’t seem quite as crowded as it could have. With twinkling eyes, the headmaster warmly received the nine youths seated before him. They all appeared slightly apprehensive as they sipped cups of tea or nibbled on tea-biscuits, as if they had some inkling of the primary reason he had called for the meeting. 

Fawkes nonchalantly preened his feathers, but the portraits on the wall had abandoned all pretense of inattentiveness. There was no question that the Potters and their friends were the most interesting students that Hogwarts had seen in many generations.

As he regarded them cannily, Dumbledore was struck by the incongruity of their fresh-faced youthful features - those of still young teens - juxtaposed with a bearing beyond their years which at once both heartened and humbled him. Finally, Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“Well,” Dumbledore began, “No doubt you are all wondering why I asked you to join me this afternoon. To begin with, I wish to express the thankfulness of the many residents of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh. An entire town survives today, due to your magnificent efforts - due to your prodigious skills, your bravery, and your true strength of character. 

“The Acting Mayor of Puddleby, Ms Barbara Spencer, and the young man of whose acquaintance you made last night, Mr Joseph Chambers, both especially wished me to pass along their utmost gratitude - and the gratefulness of their families. 

“Make no mistake, despite the best efforts of myself, the Order, and Monsieur Delacour’s forces, there is no question that the town would have likely been largely destroyed had you not been there to prevent such from happening. You accomplished far more than I had believed possible or could have hoped for under such extreme conditions...”

Harry and Hermione, and the rest of the Coven, all began squirming a bit uncomfortably, reddening with embarrassment at the headmaster’s high praises. But not knowing what to say, they sat silent as Dumbledore spoke, eyeing the Potters in particular with an almost wistful expression as he carried on. 

Harry gulped when Dumbledore looked right at him over the top of his half-moon spectacles with his piercing blue gaze.

“No doubt it feels quite odd to be behind the walls of Hogwarts once more, Harry. That is because you are all truly adults now, in every way imaginable, even the youngest among you.

“You and the rest of your compatriots have all faced more burdens and shouldered more responsibilities than many wizards and witches have in their entire lives, and you have all done so with great courage, grace, and dedication - more than anyone has any right to expect from those of your age.

“You have acquitted yourselves admirably, and I must confess, I am somewhat saddened for whatever vestiges of innocence you have lost, facing the terrible burdens of war. For indeed, warriors you, your wife, and friends, have all become.

“As I mentioned not so long ago, it is my hope that at some point, you would be able to resume your education, free of such burdens. And I must apologise again for the current interruptive state of affairs regarding schooling for yourself and your companions.”

“It’s alright sir,” said Harry quietly, when Dumbledore paused, clearly expecting a response. “We understand that things are different now - we’re all ready for whatever comes next, whenever you need us.”

“Indeed!” Dumbledore nodded. “However, I should like to offer the opportunity for you and your friends to rejoin us here at Hogwarts - at least on a part-time basis - if you and your friends feel up to it. It has occurred to me that you may all feel a bit isolated from your other friends, and from family members, as I know that at least two among you have siblings currently attending Hogwarts. 

“You could all continue to reside _together_ in Hogwarts’ newest, unofficial ‘House’...” Dumbledore said, his tone full of meaning.

Ginny turned scarlet, and she and Parvati giggled nervously while Luna simply smiled beatifically when Dumbledore’s gaze came to rest upon the three of them. 

“I can offer you a copy of the portrait of Aphrodite to ease passage between Jennifer’s manor and Hogwarts, and more suites in the corridor of the Unaffiliated... if such are necessary,” Dumbledore added pointedly, raising his eyebrows slightly. 

Dora turned beet red; Fleur couldn’t help a little titter escaping her lips. Daphne blushed and Jennifer grinned, shaking her head. Harry glanced at Hermione who was as red-faced as he, and groaned. He had been hoping that it had been his imagination, and that Dumbledore would let well enough alone if not.

“Er... How did you know?” Harry asked a bit hoarsely.

“That you and your companions are a Coven?” said Dumbledore, his own cheeks growing warm and rosy. “I first suspected after visiting Jennifer’s estate to remove the Trace from Miss Weasley. Not only due to the closeness which you all seemed to share, but because of the palpable magic that my finely attuned senses detected surrounding the estate. 

“The magic was highly reminiscent of that which I once spoke to you and Mrs Potter following the conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament - reminding me very strongly of magic I had sensed at ancient sites where once were held, er... _Ecstatic Rituals_ of primordial magic.

“And last night, the potency of your spells, and the intensity of your Auras convinced me that my suspicions were correct. Please forgive me Harry. It is not my intention to cause you - any of you - any embarrassment. I will do my utmost to keep your status as a Coven secret, but I must warn you, Professor Flitwick also drew the same conclusion as I did last night. He has agreed to remain silent as well.”

Hermione felt compelled to say something, as it was all her fault to begin with.

“But we aren’t having, er... orgies,” she squeaked, her face blazing hotly. “We’re not _really_ having sex all together...”

 _ **“We**_ are though,” said Luna bluntly, giggling at Ginny and Parvati. Parvati buried her face in both hands.

“Shut up!” Ginny hissed, swatting Luna on the shoulder.

“Oh!” Dumbledore’s bushy white eyebrows rose even higher. “Truly remarkable indeed! If you don’t mind me asking, Mrs Potter...”

“I came up with a workaround,” Hermione confessed. “There’s an enchanted pond at Jennifer’s estate where I think that ancient Covens must have held, er... similar rituals. We all paired up, or, er... trio’d up in Ginny, Luna, and Parvati’s case, and took to corners of the pond corresponding to points on the compass.”

“Ah... of course! Most ingenious, Mrs Potter!” Dumbledore nodded, stroking his long silvery beard. “Well, I’ll quite understand if you all wish to remain at Jennifer’s estate for the time being.”

“Er... can we think about it?” asked Harry, glancing at Hermione and the others. “I wouldn’t mind staying here part of the week anyway.” 

Hermione immediately caught on, knowing how much Harry missed the Room of Requirement. 

“Why don’t we stay the night?” said Hermione. “We could sleep on it, and let you know what we think tomorrow, Professor Dumbledore!” 

“That sounds a splendid plan, Mrs Potter,” the headmaster agreed. “Now that’s all sorted, I wish to express my gratitude once more, this time for myself.”

Dumbledore held up his withered and blackened arm and flexed the spindly fingers of his charred hand.

“This was a small price to pay for my life... I am not sure how I can ever repay you and your companions for affording me the opportunity to continue shaping young minds. If there is anything more that I can do to make your lives more bearable, by all means, do not hesitate to ask...”

“Erm...” Harry felt slightly awkward, not sure how to respond to that. “Er... really sir, that’s not necessary...”

Hermione chewed her lip, glancing at her husband as an idea impressed itself upon her.

“Professor Dumbledore, sir,” she began, “we’ve been wondering what it would take to create a Room of Requirement of our own at home. Harry’s been wanting a proper place to continue training when we’re not at Hogwarts, and anything you could do to help would be brilliant.”

Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose again; he looked most impressed at the request of his students. The office fell into silence as he considered it.

“Well, such a thing would be quite beyond me to create from scratch of my own accord,” he said finally, “and would under most circumstances take many decades and many, many wizards vastly skilled in Arithmancy, Charms, Transfiguration, and a highly specialised branch of Alchemy known as Metaphysicorum to accomplish...”

Hermione gave Harry an apologetic look for having got his hopes up.

“It’s alright Hermione,” Harry started to say, smiling at her, “You already told me as much...”

“However,” Dumbledore interjected brightly, “I do believe there is a way that I can assist you in that regard. What you need is an artifact - a piece of the Room of Requirement itself - which I would be more than happy to provide. All you need do is incorporate the stone into the architecture of the room you wish to transform - which is a simple matter - and I daresay that a session of your, er... erotic activities with Harry would do the rest...”

**~o0o~**

Carmine wisps of cloud crossed the purple backdrop as the day drew closer to an end. Ron was starving; not to mention being tired and thirsty and bloody freezing his arse off. He had been flying for hours, having only taken a break at midday when the sun’s position in the sky made his direction of travel uncertain. He had resumed flying the moment the sun began to descend the downward slope of the sky.

To his delight, despite the snowy landscape, Ron was sure that he had discovered the railway tracks upon which the Hogwarts Express traveled. His certainty was assured when he had spotted a bridge that he recalled from the ill-fated flight that he and Harry and Hermione had taken in his father’s car with his dad at the helm at the beginning of their second year.

Just as his stomach growled angrily at him again, demanding sustenance, Ron spotted them in the gathering dusk - three wizards on brooms in the distance. Gasping, his stomach shutting up as it clenched in fear, Ron dropped below the tree line into some nearby woods, hoping that they hadn’t spotted him. He almost set down, but then decided he was better off hidden in the snow laden branches of the trees.

“Over there - I sawr ‘im go down over ‘ere somewhere...” he heard someone shout. “Must be a mudblood tryin’ to evade capture.”

“Hah, we’ll find ‘im soon enough. ‘E can’t be far,” yelled another.

Heart pounding in his ears, Ron inwardly cursed and held his breath when the third drifted closer towards the tree he was hiding in. His eyes grew bigger when he saw through the branches and twigs how close the wizard was. Ron knew that they’d spot him at any moment, and he had no wand with which to fight. But fleeing simply wasn’t an option on the stupid slow broom he’d stolen from the Minister’s house.

The broom! That was it! Ron couldn’t believe his eyes when he realised that the Snatcher a mere metre or two away from him was riding a Firebolt. Ron gulped and wished he hadn’t looked down when he saw how far below the ground was. Ron took a deep breath to steel himself; he’d only have one chance to get this right.

The idiot on the broom was closer than ever and Ron saw his opportunity; he leapt from the tree limb onto the back of the Snatcher’s broomstick and grabbed at his wand.

“OI... WOT THE BLOODY HELL?” yelled the startled Snatcher.

Ron slugged him on the jaw and heard it crack. The unconscious wizard tumbled from his broom, crashing through the branches as he hurtled towards the ground surrounded by falling clumps of snow and icicles. Without a second thought, Ron spun the broom around and began shooting stunning spells at the other two bearing down on him.

They both returned fire and missed, shocked when Ron charged at them instead of turning tail as they’d expected he would. Ron was amazed by the Firebolt’s speed and handling. He passed right between the pair of Snatchers and stunned them both.

Ron couldn’t help hoping that they’d break their necks when they hit the ground as he flew off at high speed. And with any luck, on the Firebolt, he’d be long gone before anyone noticed that Ron had activated the Trace.

**~o0o~**

Harry and Hermione shuffled through the powdery drifts of snow, their breath clouding in the bitter air on that cold mid-January evening as Dora and Fleur strolled beside them, chatting amiably about the idea of returning to Hogwarts on a part-time basis.

Feeling like a bit of fresh air, the four of them had left Daphne and Jennifer in the Unaffiliated Common Room with Ginny, Luna, and Parvati, where they were all giggling about the new private quarters which belonged to the three newest members of the unofficial “House.” 

Movement in the night-sky caught the corner of Hermione’s vision. She glanced upwards, her eyes widening. 

“Harry!” she squealed, pointing at someone approaching on a broomstick, silhouetted against the stars and waning moon.

“Blimey! Who’s that?” muttered Harry, whipping out his wand.

“Hopefully someone alright!” said Dora, reaching into her robes for her mirror, frowning in puzzlement. “Dumbledore, Flitwick, and McGonagall set up wards to keep any Ministry folk out... Mightn’t work against someone imperiused if they’re staff or a student though.”

In the darkness, the figure was still too distant for normal human eyes, but Fleur’s pupils widened, glowing in the silvery moonlight.

“I cannot believe it...” she gasped.

“Who is it, Fleur?” asked Harry, beginning to feel alarmed, wondering if it was someone mad like Bellatrix Lestrange.

“Ees your friend, I believe... ze one who was taken!”

“It is... it’s Ron!” squeaked Hermione as the figure in the sky drew closer. 

“Ron? ... Bloody hell! Are you sure?” Harry pulled off his smudged glasses, wiped them on his coat and replaced them, squinting. 

“Yes Harry! It’s definitely Ron!” said Hermione excitedly. 

“Wow!” Harry exclaimed, gaping in amazement as Ron drew nearer at a rapid clip. “Whatever he’s flying is bloody fast.”

Harry lit his wand and began waving it, jumping up and down to get Ron’s attention. Dora snapped out of her own amazed stupor and joined in. Hermione followed suit, and all three of them began yelling Ron’s name. Fleur shook her head and smirked, pulling off a glove and shooting up a burst of flame from her raised hand.

**~o0o~**

A wispy cloud drifted across the sliver of moon in the starry sky as the shadowed walls and towers of the castle loomed ahead, warm yellow light pouring from all of the windows. Ron felt a surge of relief; he’d made it, finally! As he dropped closer to the snow-covered treetops, a reddish-orange flare shot up and several moving lights caught his attention in the darkness below.

Ron was surprised to see four dark shadows on the snowy lawn at this time of night, three of them leaping wildly and waving lit wands. When he was close enough, he could faintly hear them shouting his name. Ron put on one last burst of speed and swooped down towards the figures.

Tumbling from his new broom into the snow, Ron couldn’t believe it when Harry rushed at him, beaming, and a bushy haired missile flung her arms around him. Dora and Fleur both stood back, grinning as the Potters set upon Ron.

“Blimey you two!” chortled Ron. “Let a bloke breathe...”

“Are you alright Ron? What happened with the Minister and Percy? How’d’you escape? Is that a Firebolt?” The questions flew from Harry’s mouth in rapid-fire.

Ron staggered, briefly overwhelmed by the onslaught, his muscles screaming after being frozen to the broom for so long.

“Easy you two!” Dora chortled. “Give ‘im a chance to catch his breath.”

The Potters both stepped back, blushing slightly. Hermione’s own breath caught sharply when Ron’s disheveled state became readily apparent.

“Ron!” she squeaked. “You poor thing! Your hand, it’s all swollen and your knuckles are bleeding... and why aren’t you wearing gloves?”

“Er... it’s nothing!” Ron muttered nonchalantly, “I might’ve busted a finger though - but you should see Percy and the other bloke!” he concluded with a grin.

Harry raised his eyebrows and looked impressed, opening his mouth to ask for details; but Hermione was having none of it.

“A broken finger is _**not**_ nothing Ronald Weasley!” Hermione snapped, giving Ron a stern look. “And look at you! You must be frozen half to death. You’re going to the hospital wing this instant!”

“Can’t it wait?” Ron groaned, “I’m bloody famished...”

“You can eat in the hospital wing after Pomfrey’s seen to you. Come on then...” said Hermione firmly but kindly as she began to march Ron up to the castle.

Harry grinned at his wife, then shot Ron an apologetic look as he strode beside them. Fleur tittered and Dora couldn’t help letting out a muted guffaw.

**~o0o~**

Madam Pomfrey hadn’t the heart to turn the Potters out as she settled Ron into bed and healed his broken finger and several cracked knuckles. She had given him a number of potions for swelling, pain, hypothermia, and exhaustion, and called for a house-elf to bring Ron some supper.

It was a testament to how worried that both Potters had been for Ron, that neither of them fussed him about his dreadful table manners as he regaled them with his exploits while eating.

“You should’ve seen me...” Mashed potatoes flew from Ron’s mouth as he told them about the Snatchers. “There must’ve been at least half a dozen of them - maybe more. But I canooed the one bloke after I leapt on his Firebolt and snagged his wand...”

“Pardon?” interjected Harry, looking slightly bewildered. “Canooed?”

“Yeah... I hit him real hard like this...” Ron jerked his closed fist and a few peas rolled off his dinner plate. “Probably broke his jaw! Fred and George told me you were the one who showed them...”

Hermione looked a bit ill at the thought of someone’s jaw breaking, or maybe it was just the sight of gravy dripping from Ron’s chin. Light dawned on Harry and he grinned, shaking his head.

“Oh, you mean you _Kung Fu-ed_ him,” said Harry with a little laugh. “You might’ve been better off with a palm strike though - at least your finger would be. Still, that’s bloody brilliant Ron!

“So how’d you take out the other five Snatchers,” Harry asked pointedly, smirking. Ron’s ears turned red and Hermione stifled a giggle.

“Erm... well... mightabinclosert’two,” Ron mumbled. He washed down his mouthful of food with some pumpkin juice before finishing his story.

“Anyway, the Firebolt handled like a champ - really fast. The Snatchers were shooting spells but they couldn’t hit me. I flew right between ‘em and stunned one, then the other. They both fell off their brooms and I hoofed it before anyone else showed up.

“I found the railway tracks again and kept flying. I must’ve still been pretty far from Hogwarts though, because even as fast as the Firebolt was, it still seemed to take a couple of hours to get here...”

Ron thought he’d better finish his dinner before telling the Potters the rest of it when he saw Hermione looking a bit green. Hastily he wiped the gravy from his chin and cleared his plate in no time flat. He had just eaten his last bite when Dumbledore entered the hospital wing.

The Potters listened as the youngest Weasley son told his story again for the headmaster, which Ron was only too happy to do. When Ron got to the bit that he hadn’t told Harry and Hermione yet, Dumbledore shared a dark look with the Potters. 

Ron revealed that he’d overheard the Minister and Percy plotting something to draw out Harry and Dumbledore in an attempt to capture them, and unlock the mystery of the Secret Weapon once and for all.

“...I dunno what though. They hadn’t worked anything out yet,” said Ron. “They were going to when the Minister got back from talking to the muggle Prime Minister and some other muggle bloke - a ‘proper-grandist’ or something like that. Anyway I knocked Percy out and left before she came back...”

“And I am quite glad that you did, Mr Weasley,” the headmaster responded warmly. “You have done splendidly indeed, returning to us safe and sound - and on top of that, providing the Potters and myself with valuable information upon which we can act when the opportunity arises. 

“Your parents should be very proud! Speaking of which, I had better inform them of your safe return before the night wears on much longer.”

Dumbledore twinkled at Ron and turned to Harry and Hermione.

“Well Harry, Mrs Potter, perhaps it is best that we all leave our young hero to his well deserved rest before Madam Pomfrey decides it is time to turf us all out... We can discuss our own countermeasures in coming days...”


	74. Interlude

Harry blinked uncertainly as he awoke, wondering if he was dreaming, then remembered that he and Hermione were back at Hogwarts. He felt a pressing need, but was loath to disturb Hermione, who, as usual, had an arm curled around his middle. Fortunately, Harry didn’t have long to wait, and Hermione began to stir.

“‘Morning Harry,” she said with a yawn, then gave him a kiss. “We haven’t missed it, have we?”

“Er...?”

“The news...”

“Oh, right,” said Harry, remembering the new Wiz-Vision they had discovered in the Unaffiliated common room yesterday after deciding to spend the night at Hogwarts. There hadn’t been anything on yesterday evening’s news about Puddleby or the Order’s pirate broadcast. 

After showering and dressing, Harry and Hermione joined the rest of the Coven in the common room, feeling a small amount of trepidation, wondering if the Minister had conjured some sort of response yet. When the Wiz-Vision flickered on, they were unsurprised to see the magnificently groomed William O’Hannity introducing Minister Umbridge.

And they were equally unastonished when the blame for everything was laid at the feet of Dumbledore’s rebellion, and that Harry in particular was singled out as having instigated the entire affair at the headmaster’s behest.

“...Indeed,” continued the Minister in her steeliest voice, “we have substantial evidence that Dumbledore and Mr Potter staged the entire event as a means to cast a bad light on the Ministry, going so far as to breach the International Statute of Secrecy.

“And one can only imagine the lengths to which the insurrectionists must have gone to corral enough Inferi, setting them upon Puddleby in a desperate ploy to cast themselves as the heroes which saved the town from the foul creatures. Such falseness is of course standard operating procedure for those who are accustomed to conspiracy and lies...”

“Of course!” Harry groaned, rubbing at his forehead; Hermione gave him a consoling squeeze. Dora and Fleur rolled their eyes as Jennifer and Daphne glanced at each other worriedly.

“I can’t believe this rubbish,” fumed Parvati. 

“She almost makes it sound believable...” Ginny added, scowling.

“Don’t worry Parvati, Ginny,” said Luna comfortingly. “All the Minister has is words. They might sound good, but all the footage that Daddy and Rita Skeeter showed yesterday will have much more impact on people.”

“Are you certain?” asked Daphne, looking doubtful.

“Luna ees right,” asserted Fleur. “People believe their eyes more than words. In France, when people see scandalous pictures, even if false images, many believe pictures more than denials. It will be ze same here, except our images are very real.”

“She’s right, Daphne,” said Dora. “I’ve seen enough on the muggle telly to know that people are more likely to believe their eyes... even if ‘experts’ say it's rubbish...”

“I think that’s true,” Hermione proffered. “I’ve read about psychological studies which indicate as much.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” sighed Harry. “I dunno if that UFO stuff is real, but loads of people believe even the most unconvincing and splotchy looking pictures and films... even when experts can prove they’re fake. Even Uncle Vernon did...”

Harry shook his head, unable to help a wry half-smile at the irony, recalling Uncle Vernon’s proclamations of government cover-ups whenever the _Daily Mail_ ran an article about Crop Circles or possible UFO sightings with photos. Though, come to think about it, while making his scathing remarks Uncle Vernon would often shoot Harry dirty looks as if he were responsible for the incidents somehow.

“...It’s just weird to think of that sort of thing actually working in our favour,” Harry concluded.

“That’s a good point,” added Jennifer, looking a bit relieved. “I hadn’t thought of that. My dad believed a lot of those pictures and videos were real too.”

Hermione turned off the Wiz-Vision, and there didn’t seem to be much else to say. Harry glanced at Hermione, then Dora, before addressing the entire Coven.

“So... er... We’ve all slept on it. And, er... I was wondering what the rest of you think about coming back to Hogwarts - at least during the week?” he asked, sounding slightly hopeful.

“Well,” said Dora, “I dunno about the rest of you, but I’m famished, and we still ‘ave time for breakfast in the Great Hall - We can talk about whether to stay on at Hogwarts part time, while we’re at it, if you want?”

“Yeah, alright then,” Harry agreed, his own stomach rumbling at the thought of food. 

That sounded like a plan to everyone, and without any further ado the Potters and their friends departed their unofficial House, to find breakfast in full swing when they arrived in the Great Hall. They were distracted briefly by a small crowd surrounding one end of the Gryffindor table. Harry grinned when he saw who was at the centre of attention. 

Dumbledore had apparently made a special announcement at the beginning of breakfast marking Ron’s triumphant return - which the Coven had missed as they had been watching the news - and Ron was enjoying his newfound notoriety, eagerly recounting his harrowing adventure for what appeared to be the second or third time as more students congregated around him. Ron caught Harry’s eye and grinned.

Seamus was rapt with awe, and stuck to his best mate like glue, unwilling to let him out of his sight. Dean and Neville listened intently, their jaws dropping at all the most exciting bits. Even Lavender and Viktor were hooked. A number of girls seemed to have gathered around to listen as well, many of them from the other Houses.

Harry had a good chuckle as Ron had returned to his tale of fighting off half a dozen Snatchers... or more. Hermione rolled her eyes and smirked a bit, but left Ron to it, not wishing to spoil his fun. Ginny chortled, having been told the truest version of the story of Ron’s return the previous evening by Harry and Hermione, and gave Ron a hug, thrilled to have her brother back.

Despite knowing Ron well enough to guess that he was exaggerating, the Twins were nonetheless extremely impressed with him. They were especially admiring of the fact that he’d won himself a Firebolt and a wand, which Professor Dumbledore had let him keep as nobody knew what the Carrows or the Minister had done with Ron’s old wand.

“...just the spoils of war,” said Ron with a nonchalant shrug. But he couldn’t help beaming at his brothers’ praises.

“That’s our brother, the humble one!” said Fred, rolling his eyes as he slapped Ron on the shoulder heartily. “I suppose you’ve earned some bragging rights though, Ron! You’ve truly done the Weasley name proud...”

“...and you’re worth more than a thousand Percys!” insisted George. “That git deserved a good pummeling.”

Ron had also received a very large parcel from Mr and Mrs Weasley full of his favourite cakes and sweets - they had apparently apparated to Hogwarts with it earlier that morning to see him before breakfast. After a few minutes sharing in Ron’s revelry the Unafilliated took their seats at the Mingling Table and dug into their own breakfasts.

Despite the sense of foreboding as they wondered what the Minister had in store next, and feeling a bit strange to be back at Hogwarts on a school-day, all in all, Harry and Hermione felt greatly cheered. And after a bit of deliberation among themselves, it seemed the rest of the Coven felt much the same way. 

“...So, we’re all agreed then?” asked Harry, when the discussion wound down, just to make sure that everyone was on the same page. “We’ll stay at Hogwarts during the week and return home on the weekends?”

Jennifer nodded vigorously as murmurs of assent carried around the table. Buoyed by the consensus, Harry, Hermione, and Dora split from the others - who returned to the common room - and made their way to Dumbledore’s office to inform him of their decision. Once past the gargoyle and the winding stairs, Harry rapped the brass knocker three times and the door swung open.

“Ah, Harry, Mrs Potter, Miss Tonks, do come in,” the headmaster invited warmly, gesturing to the familiar chintz armchairs before his desk. 

“I take it then that you have reached a resolution?” Dumbledore asked, looking for all the world as if he knew what the answer would be.

“Er... yes sir,” said Harry. “We’ve decided we’re ready to come back, but... er... we’d like to go back home on the weekends - if that’s still alright with you.”

“Quite alright, Harry” Dumbledore replied, nodding. “And in anticipation that you might take such a decision, I took the liberty of having a copy of Aphrodite’s portrait made to take home with you, to ease your passage...” Dumbledore glanced at the wall and the Potters knew he was looking at Phineas Nigellus. “...and to ease the burden on Headmaster Black.” 

Phineas Nigellus snorted and rolled his eyes. 

“Well, then,” the headmaster continued, his eyes twinkling as he regarded the three youths, “all that remains is to determine how to proceed with your education. I have already spoken with the Heads of Houses, and have recently arranged with Hestia Jones to take up a new position at Hogwarts. She will be overseeing an Independent Studies programme, in conjunction with the other Professors. 

“I believe that this arrangement will also be suitable for those who may be seeking to further their education whilst considering new career options,” he went on to say, raising his bushy white eyebrows pointedly at Dora, before returning his attention to the Potters. “And I hasten to add, that Horace Slughorn is quite hopeful that you will consider allowing him to tutor you in the basics of Alchemy, now that Professor Snape has returned to take up his post as Potions Master...”

Hermione quivered in excitement at the prospect. Harry felt a slightly alarmed; he still had a hard enough time keeping up with Arithmancy, and by all accounts, Alchemy promised to be equally intimidating - but Hermione looked so thrilled that Harry didn’t have the heart to raise any objections. Dora caught his eye and smiled wryly.

“Y’know, I might take Slughorn up on it myself,” Dora mused aloud. “Alchemy wasn’t offered as an elective when I was at Hogwarts.” 

Dora felt heartened to see Harry looking a bit relieved, and Hermione squeezed Harry’s hand comfortingly as they departed Dumbledore’s office.

“You’ll do just _fine_ Harry,” said Hermione. “I _know_ you will. Come on, let’s tell the others, and go sort out our new schedules with Hestia...” 

Jennifer was as happy as anyone with the new arrangements, and even more delighted to find that Hestia Jones would be administering the Independent Studies programme; their reunion was more than a bit teary. Daphne bit her lip, looking a bit startled and like she might cry herself.

“Hestia!” Jennifer squealed, beaming.

“Oof!” said Hestia with a grin when Jennifer pounced and swept her into an exuberant hug. “I missed you too sweetie!”

Harry glanced away, feeling slightly uncomfortable, as if he were intruding on a private moment, and he noticed something which was all too apparent now that he saw Hestia again for the first time since the summer. And judging by the expression on Daphne’s and the rest of the Coven’s faces, everyone else had spotted it too.

“Is it just me,” Harry whispered to Hermione as the embrace continued, “or does Hestia look just like Jennifer’s mum?”

“It’s not just you,” Hermione whispered back, looking a bit disconcerted herself as she recalled the photographs they had seen of Jennifer’s mother at her estate. “They could almost be sisters.”

“Alright then you lot,” said Hestia once the moment with Jennifer had passed, “let’s get you all sorted...”

**~o0o~**

Flakes of snow drifted lightly from the pearly grey clouds above, swirling around the small procession marching through the streets of Brussels. Kingsley Shacklebolt kept a watchful eye as he led Amelia Bones and several muggle women and a young girl along the Rue Belliard towards the headquarters of the International Confederation of Wizards, barely more than a block away from the Brussels offices of the muggle United Nations.

Kingsley felt only mildly reassured that they were surrounded by a phalanx of International Aurors wearing crisp black muggle suits and dark sunglasses. Though he trusted most of the members of the Committee for the Investigation of Statutory Violations, there was one that Kingsley trusted not at all. He wouldn’t put it past Minister Umbridge to have her man on the inside stage a hit before they reached the heavily warded building which housed the ICW head-offices.

A loud bang like a gunshot went off in the street and the group halted. The Aurors peered about for the source of the sound, their wands instantly in hand. The little girl shrieked and one of the young women began to shake. Madam Bones glanced worriedly at the Dawson sisters and the ex-MI5 agent’s daughter as a passing Volkswagen lurched and sputtered.

“Ssh... It’s alright Gemma,” Clara reassured her younger sister, wrapping her arms around Gemma who was crying. “Just a car backfiring.” 

“You alright, love?” Andrea Mason asked her daughter, who was still trembling like a leaf. The little girl nodded tearily. 

The International Aurors all relaxed, but kept their wands at the ready as the small assembly began walking again, just in case. Kingsley breathed a sigh of relief when they finally reached the international wizarding institution and the doorman let them in without further incident...

**~o0o~**

The witch in the elegant black gown reached for the bottle of brandy and filled three crystal snifters nearly to the brim before sitting in one of the ornately carved ebony chairs at the small, highly polished round table.

“Madam Lestrange,” Percy bowed stiffly as he took a seat across the table from the notorious Dark witch. He had to admit, that despite having grown very accustomed to the necessity of working with such people - and having met with Bellatrix Lestrange on a number of occasions - that she still made him feel a bit uncomfortable.

Or maybe it was the way that she was looking at him, almost hungrily. Or the way her wild dark tresses tumbled over her shoulders, drawing attention to the extremely low cut of her gown. Or the glistening wetness of her scarlet lips. 

“Well, aren’t you scrumptious!? Come now my dear boy,” purred Bellatrix, dipping a finger in her brandy and sucking suggestively on her fingertip, “why so formal? You and I are almost old friends now, Percy. I would be insulted if you don’t call me Bella... And perhaps if Dolores would allow, we could spend some time to get to know one another more... _intimately_.”

Percy couldn’t help eyeballing Bellatrix’s cleavage as she thrust her ample bosom towards him and batted her long Dark lashes seductively. She reached across the table and stroked the back of his hand with the still wet fingertip which had just been in her mouth. He blushed furiously and gulped, surprised to find himself growing warm.

Dolores Umbridge chuckled and inclined her head slightly.

“Well, as long as you leave Percy in one piece, my deputy is free to fraternise with anyone who supports our mutual agenda,” Dolores offered sweetly. “It is entirely up to him...”

“Erm...” Percy swallowed nervously again.

Lestrange was oddly compelling, though Percy had never supposed that he might fancy an older woman of Dark proclivities. But it had been a long time since he’d had a bit of fun after all - Penelope had been holding out on him for months before she finally broke it off with him. Percy supposed that under the circumstances, it was only natural that he would find Bellatrix alluring.

Bellatrix seemed almost able to read Percy’s mind.

“Perhaps later then... after the meeting?” she said with a wink.

“Anyway, you know why we’re here, Bellatrix,” Dolores began after the pleasantries were out of the way. “The outcome of events in Puddleby have complicated matters somewhat, and my contact on the ICW’s Committee for the Investigation of Statutory Violations informs me that preliminary hearings are beginning this week to examine Dumbledore’s evidence - which apparently is to include the testimony of several muggles, including the acting mayor of Puddleby.

“I am also informed that Dame Machschnell and Madam Ogoba are leaning in Dumbledore’s favour already. And it is possible that they may issue a ruling in a matter of weeks, bringing the matter to a floor vote of the general assembly at that time which could very well go Dumbledore’s way.

“If that is indeed the case, then my ability to travel abroad could be seriously curtailed in the near future. However, Percy and I have some ideas for entrapping Dumbledore and Potter which will require your expertise. And if our objectives are achieved, then it matters little how the vote at the ICW goes. Eventually - should all go as planned - our friends overseas will see their own opening to taking back Power for the Pure of Blood in their own nations...”

The two Dark witches plotted and schemed over the next few hours, with Percy proffering his own suggestions at intervals. Percy however, found it difficult to concentrate as Bellatrix seemed intent on distracting him; he began to sweat profusely when he felt bare toes caressing his calf and slowly traveling up his trouser leg to his inner thigh.

Utterly flustered, Percy was relieved to no end when the confab came to a conclusion. When Dolores readied herself for departure, Percy quickly stood up, banging his knees painfully on the table and sending his empty brandy snifter tumbling, shattering on the floor.

“D...d...dreadfully sorry!” he sputtered, his face blazing like an inferno as he bent over to pick up the shards of crystal, forgetting momentarily that he was a wizard. Percy let out a startled “Eep!” and smacked his forehead on the edge of the table when he felt firm fingers grasping his bum.

For a moment Percy saw stars as he rubbed his head, hearing a terrifying chuckle. 

“Do be careful dear Bella - I would very much appreciate having Percy back relatively intact.” 

“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport, Dolores!” Bellatrix giggled madly. “He’ll still have all his parts attached when I’m finished with him... I promise! And I’m sure the boy will be feeling like a new man when we’re through, and begging for more.” 

The rest of the afternoon and evening at Lestrange Manor passed in a frightening blur for Percy, but whenever he thought back to that night, Percy couldn’t deny that Bellatrix hadn’t been altogether wrong - he certainly had felt like a new man the following morning, and he couldn’t help feeling that his life had been quite lacking prior to that moment.

**~o0o~**

The week flew by for the Coven as they settled into the new schedules for their Independent Studies. Luna and Ginny more or less picked up where they had left off, attending some fourth year classes while being tutored on the bits they had missed. Jennifer, likewise, received extra instruction while returning to some fifth year lessons along with Parvati and Daphne.

Dora and Fleur carried on as teacher’s assistants while furthering their own post NEWT education in more specialised fields; Fleur focused her studies on Curse-breaking and joined Dora and the Potters for Alchemy sessions with Professor Slughorn. 

Though returning to the fifth year syllabus for most of their classes, Harry and Hermione had both by and large moved on to advanced lessons from the sixth and seventh year curriculum for Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts, and seventh year Potions.

Much of their study was taken under the supervision of Hestia Jones in a spare classroom, but the professors had made some time to perform demonstrations as needed. And for practical reasons, Herbology was still taken with Professor Sprout in the greenhouses.

Likewise, Harry and Hermione were taking their seventh year Potions lessons with Snape twice a week in the dungeons, and the fourth and fifth year members of the Unaffiliated rejoined the respective Potions classes for their year. 

Harry was very pleased to learn that he no longer had to suffer through Professor Binns’ lessons. Though he’d always been fascinated by History of Magic, Harry had never been able to endure the soporific effects of the ghostly professor’s lectures. Reading the Magical History books was more than sufficient to learn the subject.

One class Harry missed though, was Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid. Harry and Hermione had both put that aside for the time-being, apologising profusely to a disappointed Hagrid.

“Ah, I unnerstand,” Hagrid said sadly with a sigh when Harry and Hermione informed him over tea and rock-cakes in his hut. “Yeh both need ter focus on the mos’ useful subjects while yer fightin’ fer the Order. If yeh wanna though, I’ll be happy ter help yeh catch up when it’s time so’s yeh can pass yer Care o’ Magical Creatures OWL... whenever _that’ll_ be now.”

“That sounds lovely Hagrid,” Hermione replied, beaming, though she was disappointed that OWL’s were temporarily on hold for the entire school, given the current state of affairs in magical Britain. 

Despite the heavy workload, the Potters did manage to schedule a bit more downtime now that they were working at their own pace - much to Ron’s delight - as Madam Pomfrey had been most insistent that rest and relaxation were just as important as education, and vital for their health and well-being.

All in all, by the time the weekend rolled around again, things at Hogwarts began to seem so normal, that Harry and Hermione could almost forget that Magical Britain was in turmoil. Nor had there been any indication from the WVN news that the Minister was plotting her next move. The Potters and the rest of the Coven knew better of course, but for the time-being, they tried their best to put their trepidation aside to focus on schoolwork and training; they had no doubt that they would be in the thick of things again soon enough.

**~o0o~**

Friday arrived in Brussels, as dismal and grey as it had been all week - greyer even by early afternoon. The witch in the sitting room of a muggle hotel suite watched the snow falling heavily on the other side of the partially frosted windowpane, glad for the warmth of the hotel’s central heating system after the bitterly cold walk back from another morning of providing testimony at the ICW.

Unexpected giggles caught Amelia Bones’s ear, drawing her attention away from the flurries of snow swirling outside the window. Amelia turned her head and smiled to see Andrea Mason’s daughter and the Dawson sisters laughing at the buffoonish antics and prattle of the two bowler hatted detectives in the _Tintin_ cartoon on the television. 

It was the first time Amelia had seen Samantha Mason laughing all week; and it suddenly struck her that the programme was in French when Gemma and Clara laughed after the young girl explained the joke to them.

Andrea Mason had glanced up from her book at the cheering sound as well, looking a bit misty eyed. The two women caught each others’ eyes. 

“Your daughter - she understands French?” asked Madam Bones.

“Yes!” Andrea nodded proudly. “I began teaching her myself when she was little, and I made sure she went to a school which taught foreign languages. She also knows some German...”

The muggle woman trailed off and bit her lip, frowning pensively. Amelia understood. 

Not more than three blocks from the hotel, in a building normally inaccessible to muggles, a proceeding was taking place, headed by the German witch to whom Gemma Dawson, and Andrea Mason and her daughter had presented their testimony. The acting mayor of Puddleby had returned to Britain after providing the committee her own accounting the day before yesterday.

The two women fell silent once more. The laughter of Andrea Mason’s daughter and Gemma Dawson was the best distraction that could be imagined, given their fragile states.

**~o0o~**

Returning from the quidditch pitch after flying around a bit with Ron and Viktor, Harry discovered Luna eagerly poring through the book of Asian Monsters which he had purchased a little over a year ago. Ginny and Parvati appeared to be reading over Luna’s shoulder - Ginny giggling uncontrollably and Parvati with a look torn between disgust and bemusement. Hermione was sitting nearby, peering at Luna and smirking slightly.

Harry put it out of his head as he packed and readied himself to return to Jennifer’s estate for the weekend, but found the book on the nightstand when Hermione took a turn in the shower. He picked up the book and began to read the page it fell open to, finally understanding why it had a Seventeen and Over warning sticker on the cover. Harry’s stomach churned and he felt a bit ill as he read about the mating habits of a particularly revolting species of Japanese demon. 

Hermione returned from the shower with a towel wrapped around her, and her hair all in a frizz. She glanced at Harry lying on the bed reading a book, and raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m already packed and ready to go,” said Harry with a grin when he noticed Hermione giving him a Look, as if she were wondering why he was lazing around. “I’ve got the brick from the Room of Requirement in a bag with a couple of days’ worth of clothes.”

“Oh, alright! Let’s see what you’re reading then,” Hermione pounced on the bed to take a peek. “Hmm... looking for ideas to spice up our fun this weekend, are you?” she asked, sounding amused when she saw that Harry was reading the book of Asian Monsters. 

“Erm... what?” Harry looked bewildered. “No! I just never finished reading this book. What are you on about?”

“That’s the page Luna was reading when you got back from flying. She was really interested in that creature...” Hermione raised both eyebrows pointedly and giggled.

“What? _This_ horrible creature?” Harry was utterly flummoxed now. “Why on earth would Luna be interested in Shokushu?” 

“Er...” Hermione was a bit taken aback that Harry hadn’t picked up on her meaning, and wasn’t quite certain how to explain it to him. “Erm... Luna - she was sort of, erm... was intrigued by its... er... reproductive cycle.”

Finally light dawned on Harry; he gaped at Hermione in shock. “You must be joking! Luna doesn’t really want an evil multi-tentacled monster to force itself on her and impregnate her, does she?”

“Of _**course**_ not, silly!” Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s just a ridiculous sexual fantasy! It doesn’t mean she _really_ wants anything ghastly to happen to her. ... You know how Luna likes mad things.”

Harry shook his head in amazement and snorted mirthfully. Luna did like mad things, but this rather took the cake. Then something else Hermione had said suddenly struck him - something strange - something about “looking for ideas to spice up their fun...” 

“Hang on! Are you sure it’s just _Luna_ who likes mad things?” Harry chortled. Hermione turned pink, jumped off the bed, and began rummaging in the wardrobe for some clothes without answering or looking him in the eye.

“I _was_ thinking about morphing into Hugh Grant or Kate Winslet for you this weekend, but I _suppose_ I could give this Shokushu thing a go if you’d rather,” Harry added teasingly. "I'm sure I could manage a few tentacles at least." 

“Shut up!” Hermione retorted, fumbling as she grabbed a pair of knickers, her face blazing hotly, and her towel fell to the floor...

**~o0o~**

Saturday brought wind and rain to the Dorset countryside surrounding Jennifer’s estate, melting the remaining patches of snow. Harry and Hermione both felt a bit awkward at the breakfast table as the rest of the Coven seemed to be eyeing them with anticipation. Finally Luna broke the silence.

“So, do you think one sex act just with you two will be enough to magically charge up the barn and to transfer the magic from the brick?” she asked bluntly. “Or do you think we should do a Coven ritual? ... We could hang up curtains in the barn for a bit of privacy.” 

“I think Harry and Hermione ‘ave got more than enough juice t’do the job,” Dora chortled as the Potters both blushed furiously. “They managed to make Hogwarts shake all by themselves, after all.” 

“Er... Yeah! I think we’ll just give it a go ourselves...” Harry began, sounding slightly hoarse.

“...but I suppose if it doesn’t work on the first time, we could try your idea, Luna,” Hermione continued a bit squeakily. “Right, Harry?”

“Er... Sure!” Harry mumbled, spooning some porridge into his mouth. Ginny and Jennifer tried their hardest not to giggle. Parvati shared an embarrassed look with Daphne. 

Harry and Hermione dawdled nervously for a bit after breakfast, eventually gathering some blankets. They were at the front door, umbrellas at the ready, with the blankets and the brick from the Room of Requirement, when Dora and Fleur appeared with a picnic basket and a portable stereo. 

“Oi, you two...” said Dora, “I know you both feel a bit under a microscope - like part of an experiment - hardly the right frame of mind for a romantic encounter! Just try and forget about the rest of us... Take your time and have fun. ... There’s no rush, alright! Take a walk in the rain for a bit... enjoy the scenery...”

“There ees enough food for lunch and your afternoon tea, and wine too in ze basket,” Fleur added. “Make a date of eet!” 

“Thanks loads guys!” said Harry, feeling a bit relieved as Hermione beamed and took the basket from Fleur. “Yeah... Yeah, you’re right. I am feeling really weird about this, and I didn’t even know why.”

“I didn’t either,” Hermione chimed in gratefully. “I was so anxious it didn’t even occur to me to bring a picnic. Thank you!”

Feeling a bit better, Harry and Hermione dropped everything off in the red brick barn and took Fleur and Dora’s advice; the biting chill of the gusting wind and the sting of icy raindrops cleared their heads as they strolled through the wet overgrown grounds at the top of the hill. 

They found again the secluded spot under the thick copse of evergreens from which they could view Corfe Castle in the distance one direction, and the sea in the other. It was a bit damp on the bed of pine needles, and odd drips fell from the branches above, but they were out of the worst of the downpour. 

Arms around each other, sitting cross-legged, Hermione breathed in deeply and rested her head on Harry’s shoulder, watching the distant trees sway and listening to the thrum of falling rain. Harry kissed Hermione’s bushy tresses and they both began to relax...


	75. Unanimous Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more explicit version of this chapter is now available in _Moments in Love: The Steamy Version._

Locked in a passionate embrace, Harry and Hermione rolled around on the damp bed of pine needles, getting wetter and wetter as more icy drips and rivulets of rain seeped through the canopy of the trees above. Hermione giggled when she felt Harry’s fingers slip inside her coat and under her t-shirt, trailing across the bare skin of her tummy.

“That tickles Harry. Does this mean you’re ready then?”

Harry reluctantly dragged his lips away from Hermione’s neck and grinned at her. 

“Er... Yeah! I guess I am.”

The Potters clambered to their feet and brushed the wet pine needles from their clothes. Harry made to open an umbrella as they stepped out into the torrent, but Hermione snatched it from his hand. 

“Oi... What the...?” said Harry, bemused. 

Hermione giggled again as she darted out of Harry’s reach. “If you want it, you’ll have to catch me, Harry.”

Shaking his head and laughing, Harry pelted after Hermione as she ran. Hermione led him on a merry chase through the downpour, and by the time they reached the red brick barn, panting and out of breath, they were both drenched.

“Now we _have_ to get out of our wet things,” said Harry, shivering and grinning as Hermione closed the door behind them. 

“That was the plan, yes,” Hermione answered matter-of-factly, shaking excess water from her saturated mane of hair. 

“Wasn’t exactly necessary though, was it?” Harry chuckled, his eyebrows raised as he tugged off his t-shirt. “I’m bloody freezing, now.”

Already down to her wet bra and knickers, Hermione rolled her eyes and picked up her wand.

“Necessary, no! Romantic, yes!” she said as she cast a Warming Charm over the barn. “Now hurry up and get out of those clothes.”

Harry chortled again and tugged off his sopping jeans, then popped open a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. Having already replaced several bricks in the wall with the slab of stone from the Room of Requirement before the walk, the Potters wrapped a blanket around themselves and huddled together, sipping the red wine as they listened to the rain beating steadily upon the roof.

Soon enough the chill was gone, and Harry picked up where he had left off under the evergreens, sweeping Hermione’s wet locks out of the way as he nuzzled her neck and his hand slid across her abdomen. 

The ardour intensified as the kisses became steamier and caresses traveled; wet undergarments were heatedly yanked off and flung to the side. Harry’s intimate affections soon had Hermione quivering and squeaking blissfully. 

Giddily, Hermione beckoned him even closer to seek his own release. But Harry seemed to have other ideas.

“Harry?” she squealed, slightly startled and confused when a second appendage made its presence known. 

Harry grinned in response. Hermione suddenly caught on and giggled. 

“Er... Well? Do you want to give it a go then?” asked Harry, raising his eyebrows questioningly. “It’s up to you... I can still be Hugh Grant if you’d rather?”

Hermione giggled again, smacking Harry’s shoulder. “I’d rather have my Harry or Harriet any day of the week. But if you’re _really_ sure you don’t mind, Shokushu Harry _does_ sound like fun... I just thought you might feel really weird about it!”

“I don’t mind at all!” Harry said softly, giving Hermione a gentle look with those pretty green eyes that she had fallen in love with. “I never feel weird when I’m with you...”

Hermione felt the tug on her heartstrings and pulled Harry closer for another deep, burning kiss. 

Passions resumed, engaged with double the fun, Hermione let out a wanton moan. The tidal surges of ecstasy swept Hermione away more than once, and she was gleefully amazed that Harry was still managing to hold on. 

Harry was more than surprised himself; the soaring sensations rushing from head to toe nearly overwhelming him. He could feel himself drawing nearer and nearer to the edge of the abyss, but he tried to hold off as long as he could, delighting in both her pleasure and his own.

But as Hermione peaked again for the umpteenth time, the passionate fervor fed back in on itself, and Harry finally lost himself. For an eternal moment the pair were as one, undulating, caught in a perfect storm of bliss.

The Magic arced like bolts of lightning; the Barn lit up, bathed in the pulsating silvery luminescence emanating from the writhing couple. Filaments - all colours of the rainbow - branched from the major crackling arcs bursting from them, and began crawling across the walls, ceiling, and floor of the barn. 

The stone from the Room of Requirement glowed intensely. There was one last blinding flash of light... the Barn quaked vigorously... and it was over. The Potters fell into Oblivion...

**~o0o~**

When Harriet came to, still entwined in Hermione’s embrace - perhaps an hour later - she gave her wife a puzzled look, who was also just starting to stir.

Hermione blinked and shook her own head clear, seeing Harriet’s bewildered expression.

“Harriet, are you alright?” she asked, looking concerned.

“Er... Blimey!” Harriet squeaked anxiously. “I’m not sure, Hermione! I mean... I feel great - that was amazing - but I don’t remember changing into my girl form. I’ve never morphed without doing it on purpose before. D’you think...? That doesn’t mean something’s wrong, does it?” 

Hermione bit her lip and frowned pensively. While having a good think, Hermione found her wand and conjured up a towel to wipe her face and hair before answering Harriet’s question.

“Hmm... Well, it’s not _really_ the first time, is it?” she finally said. “You regrew your hair once without even knowing how. .... Obviously transforming into a girl is much more complicated, but you’re used to it by now, as you do it all the time. So if I had to guess, I’d say that you unconsciously forced the change after you’d spent yourself. You’ve just been a rather... er, extreme expression of maleness... and I think you just really needed to be a girl again after all of that!”

Harriet peered at Hermione - who was still toweling herself off - in sudden understanding. She clapped her hand to her mouth, a guilty expression on her face.

“Yeah,” Harriet muttered, “I see what you mean.”

Hermione smiled sympathetically, trying hard not to giggle. 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of Harriet. It was lots of fun - brilliant even! I’d really enjoy doing that again with you some time... but only if it doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable.”

Harriet gave Hermione an abashed looking grin. 

“Er... Yeah! Okay! I had loads of fun too... I wouldn’t mind doing it again once in a while. Maybe not too often though - I’m bloody knackered after that...” Harriet trailed off as Hermione leaned in to kiss her. 

“Mmm...” said Hermione, an impish expression on her face as she stroked her hand along Harriet’s inner thigh, “That would be disappointing if you were too tired for a bit more now. I was sort of hoping I could spend some time with you as Harriet too.”

“Well, I suppose... If you insist,” said Harriet teasingly, “As long as I don’t have to work so hard this time.” 

“Not at all. Just leave it to me,” Hermione giggled, waving her wand at her coat by the barn door.  
Harriet wasn’t as surprised as she might have been when she saw the toy fly out of a pocket and across the room, knowing that Hermione usually prepared for every possible situation. 

“I made some magical adjustments,” said Hermione, “I should be able to _**really**_ feel what it’s like to be a boy this time. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Go for it,” Harriet eagerly replied. “Of course I don’t mind.”

A fresh tingle of arousal coursed through Harriet as Hermione readied the toy for action. 

The tingle became a cresting swell of elation and Harriet’s toes curled when Hermione began prepping her with stimulating caresses and kisses. This time it was Hermione who led the dance, the witches moving together in sensual rhythm as their lips met.

The delicious friction of feverous passion was too much and Harriet let out a keening cry of euphoria as she peaked, merging with Hermione for the second time, vaguely cognizant of a new sensation she hadn’t felt the last time Hermione had used the toy. 

The barn trembled again, crackling arcs of Magic leaping from wall to wall once more. 

It was another while before the pair of glowing witches roused again. Harriet grinned, giving her wife a tender smooch. 

“That was brilliant, Hermione!” said Harriet. “I always wondered what that felt like...”

“So did I,” Hermione retorted, smirking. “I think I might enjoy being the “boy” a bit more often.”

“As long as you don’t get me pregnant... OW!” Harriet chortled when Hermione gave her a swat.

“You know that can’t happen. It wasn’t real, er... semen,” said Hermione, giving Harriet a mock glare. “And I know you never bothered with the internal reproductive bits. Though if I ever do work out how to make it real when we’re older, you’d best be prepared to learn how to transform _those_ parts too if you want more than one kid...” 

“Er...” Harriet gulped, hoping Hermione was joking. “Speaking of transformations... The barn...” Harriet deflected. “We should give it a test run and have our picnic...” 

Hermione’s eyes widened as she and Harriet glanced around the chamber - for that was what the interior of the barn looked like now, a grand castle chamber...

**~o0o~**

“Wow! You did it... it actually worked!” gasped Parvati as she and the rest of the Coven peered at the inside of the barn later that afternoon.

“Was there ever any doubt?” Ginny giggled, giving the luminescent Potters a smirk which made them both blush.

“Not really,” said Luna, looking slightly wistful, as if she had hoped the services of the entire Coven would be called for. 

“It’s amazing!” exclaimed Jennifer. “It looks like just like a room at Hogwarts - like a castle made out of stone I mean... instead of bricks...”

“Let’s test it out,” said Daphne eagerly.

“Well, it definitely works. Hermione turned it into a London art gallery and we looked at the pictures while we had lunch. But I’m so worn out, I can’t even think about training,” groaned Harriet. “And I’m the one who wanted it the most.”

“Well, never mind that, Harriet,” chimed in Hermione. “We’re just supposed to be relaxing on weekends anyway - Pomfrey’s orders.”

“Yeah,” said Jennifer, “Just think of something fun, Harriet.”

“Er... well given the dreadful weather outside, we should try and think of a sunny place,” said Harriet. “But why don’t you guys choose!?”

“Oooh, I know just ze place,” Fleur cooed excitedly. 

The Coven filed back outside into the icy downpour and waited as Fleur paced back and forth by the door of the barn several times. Fleur turned the handle of the door when she was finished and everyone held their breaths as it swung open. Delightedly, the Coven found themselves on a bright sandy beach, the blue-green waters of the sea sparkling in the sunlight and lapping at the shore.

“Oh! The Côte d'Azur!” squeaked Hermione joyfully. “That was a lovely idea Fleur...”

“Oui!” Fleur nodded and beamed radiantly. “Zis is beach near a village not so far from Saint-Tropez - ees not so popular with non-magical tourists as mos’ must hike or take boat. But for wizards, is easy... and for us, even easier, non?”

“Bloody brilliant Fleur!” Dora grinned. “What say we all dash back to the house for bikinis and sunglasses...” 

The Coven spent the rest of Saturday afternoon lounging in the stunningly realistic simulation of the French Riviera under summer skies while the late January rainstorm continued to rage outside. 

Sunday passed just as pleasantly, everyone relaxing and engaging in hobbies. Harriet took the opportunity away from Hogwarts to remain in girl form, and had another go at painting under Jennifer’s expert tutelage while Hermione and Fleur retired to the library for a bit of light reading. Daphne joined Harry and Jennifer, interested in trying her hand at painting as well - though by the end of the session, there was more oil paint covering Daphne than there was on her canvas.

Dora, Parvati, and Luna spent part of the morning in the music room as Ginny looked on. Luna tapped away on the drum machine while Dora played the keyboard and Parvati warmed up her voice. Dora caught Ginny’s eye after half an hour of making a racket.

“Oi, Ginny, you look a bit bored. Come ‘ere...” Dora gestured at the synthesizer.

“Er... What?” Ginny squeaked nervously. “I don’t know how to play piano.”

“You don’t really ‘ave to know how, to have a bit of fun at first,” said Dora. “That’s the beauty of a synth... I can show you enough t’get you started. We can try making a song.”

“Er...”

“Go on, Ginny,” begged Luna, brightening at the idea of Ginny joining in properly. “It’ll be fun! ... _Please?”_

“Yeah... Come on Ginny,” said Parvati imploringly. “Give it a go.”

“Oh alright,” Ginny grumbled, clambering to her feet. “So what do I do then?”

Dora fiddled for a moment with a few buttons. “There, that oughta do it... Should be a nice synthy-bass tone. Yeah! ... Alright then, hit that key...”

Ginny tentatively tapped the white plastic key and a loud rumble boomed from the amplifier. She jumped back, squeaking. Parvati and Luna giggled. 

“That’s fine,” said Dora encouragingly. “Go on, hit it again. All you need t’do is tap out a rhythm...”

Ginny bit her lip and began bouncing her finger on the key.

“Yeah... That’s it - just like that, Ginny. Now, see these keys...?” Dora pointed at two more keys and Ginny nodded. “Alright... You can tap out a beat for a bit on the first one, then go to that one and do the same thing for a bit, and then the same on the other. All you gotta do is keep time. ... If you can count, you can do this, no problem...”

Ginny went back and forth between the keys while Dora counted out for a bit until she thought she’d got the hang of it. She glanced at Dora questioningly.

“Brilliant!” Dora grinned and picked up her guitar. “Just keep doing that. Luna, start hittin’ that drum machine again - you and Ginny just watch each other and tap out the rhythms. I’ll join in, with a chord progression, and Parvati, you just make up a melody and whatever lyrics you want...”

After about ten minutes it all came together and actually sounded like a song. Ginny beamed, amazed that she was actually making music with the others. Several hours later, Harriet and Hermione poked their heads in the door of the music studio.

“Blimey!” said Harriet, looking impressed. “That sounds really good.”

“Ta Harriet,” said Dora. “What’s up you two?”

“If you’re all hungry, Dobby’s got lunch ready,” said Hermione...

**~o0o~**

After lunch, the rest of the day proceeded apace, and too soon it was over. When Hermione crawled into bed that night and snuggled under Harriet’s arm, Harriet caught a whiff of Hermione’s toothpaste and let out a contented sigh as she stroked her tawny curls. Harriet felt so relaxed the following morning that she almost forgot to change back into boy form until she saw herself in the mirror after a quick shower.

For a moment, Harriet considered returning to Hogwarts as a girl, and just changing back into Harry whenever she felt in the mood. But a knot of anxiety formed in her stomach at the thought. Dean, Neville, and Viktor were still the only ones besides the Coven who knew that Harry could turn into a girl - not counting Dumbledore. 

Viktor and Neville had never actually seen Harry as Harriet though, and as far as Dean knew, Harry had simply been disguising himself as a girl during the search for a Ministry facility just to keep the Ministry off his trail. 

Harriet wasn’t sure that she was ready yet for anyone else to know that she actually _**liked**_ being a girl sometimes. That sort of thing was definitely looked down on in the non-magical world - Uncle Vernon wasn’t the only one who thought people who sometimes presented themselves as the opposite gender were freaks - and Harriet was quite certain that most wizards would think she was a weirdo too. 

There was no question that she had been growing more and more resigned to being famous as the Boy-Who-Lived, but Harriet still felt that she would much rather _**not**_ be the centre of attention and potential scorn at Hogwarts yet again. Besides, it was still very important to keep being a metamorphmagus a secret, Harriet reminded herself. Sighing, Harriet watched as her features changed and she was Harry once more, then he put on his bathrobe and returned to his and Hermione’s room. 

Hermione was already dressed when she heard Harry entering the bedroom. She glanced up and caught the look in his eye.

“You alright, Harry? Is something wrong?” 

“Er...” At first Harry wasn’t really sure what to say, but then the words came. “I just felt like being a girl for a bit longer, but I’m really not comfortable at the idea of anyone else knowing. ... And it really ought to stay a secret for now anyway,” he concluded with a sigh. 

Hermione’s brow furrowed sympathetically. “I’m sorry Harry. You shouldn’t have to feel that way...”

“It’s alright really,” said Harry as he dressed. “I’ll manage. At least I can be who I like when I’m with you and the others, and I can actually change physical form whenever I want to. ... It’s got to be loads worse for people who feel trapped in the wrong body all the time and can’t transfigure themselves as easily as a metamorphmagus, and get treated badly if they do dress up or get surgeries to change themselves.”

“You’re probably right,” Hermione nodded. “Still, nobody should be afraid to be themselves in public, not even you, Harry.” A sudden thought occurred to Hermione and she bit her lip guiltily. “You know I was just joking on Saturday, right?” 

“Hunh? About what?” asked Harry’s muffled voice as he pulled his school-blazer over his head.

“When I said that if I ever worked out how to magically produce my own semen that you should be prepared to morph yourself a womb if you wanted more than one child with me. I was just kidding... I swear! I don’t want you to feel trapped in the wrong body for nine months Harry!”

Blazer now properly in place, Harry peered at Hermione’s worried, earnest features and ran his fingers through his mussed up hair.

“Of course I know you were joking, Hermione,” he said reassuringly. “But honestly, for you I’d do it! You’re going to have a brilliant career - I just know it - and I don’t want you to think I expect you to be stuck at home all the time having loads of kids...”

Harry was cut off when he suddenly found his arms full of Hermione, who had flung herself on him and was showering him with kisses. Harry grinned, staggering slightly under the onslaught of Hermione’s vigorous affections.

“You’re so sweet Harry,” said Hermione. “Anyway, we don’t have to even think about children until we’re properly old enough...” 

“...not until our thirties, right?” 

“That sounds about right,” Hermione giggled, giving Harry a proper kiss on the lips. “Now hurry up and get your robes on, breakfast at Hogwarts will be starting any minute...” 

Moments later, Harry and Hermione greeted the rest of the Coven in the Parlour, and one by one they stepped through Aphrodite’s portrait at Jennifer’s manor, and emerged from the other copy on the other side of the wall at Hogwarts...

**~o0o~**

Several weeks had passed since the hearings in the International Confederation of Wizards’ head offices had begun. It was mid February, and the snow in Brussels showed little sign of abating just yet; heavy flurries swirled outside the window of the chamber in which the hearings were being conducted.

“This meeting of the Committee for ze Investigation of Statutory Violations is hereby called to order - presiding officer, Dame Angelika Machschnell.” The stern looking German witch’s voice rang out in the chamber as she banged her gavel on the wooden trivet. She peered at the other six members of the seven member Committee.

“Ve are here today to consider bringing charges against ze British Minister of Magic, Dolores Jane Umbridge. The charges before us stand as follows: First - that Minister Umbridge has knowingly colluded with a non-magical Official. Second charge - that Minister Umbridge has engaged in ze subjugation of non-magical persons, specifically those unfavoured by the aforementioned non-magical Official.

“Third charge - that Minister Umbridge has engaged in ze systematic oppression of wizards born into non-magical families. Fourth - that in carrying out ze subjugation of non-magicals, and the oppression of wizards from non-magical families, the Minister ordered the commission of multiple Crimes Against Humanity.

“And lastly, but certainly not least, Minister Umbridge is also charged with ordering ze attempted assassination of Harry James Potter. Further charges may be issued, pending arrest and full investigation, but zese charges alone are enough to detain Minister Umbridge, and hold her over to face an International Tribunal.

“It is my recommendation zat this committee shall bring to the floor of the General Assembly of the International Confederation of Wizards a motion to issue an International Arrest Warrant for Minister Umbridge, and that sanctions be brought to bear against ze British Ministry until such a time as Minister Umbridge is taken into custody. How say you all?”

The Nigerian delegate, Madam Ogoba, was quick to respond.

“I second the motion!” she stated firmly, with a look that dared the others to disagree.

“Perhaps... a measure of caution is warranted before we render a decision,” said the Greek committee member in an oily tone. “We should not move with undue haste. I still have questions regarding the veracity of Ms Mason’s and her daughter’s testimony, and the evidence presented by Dumbledore’s people.”

“Perhaps then, you also qvestion ze integrity of the committee’s own investigators, Herr Papadopoulos?” snapped the German head of the committee. “Ze testimony of all non-magicals - including that of Ms Mason and her daughter - vos confirmed by pensieve examination of their memories...”

“Memories may be altered or manipulated,” interjected Pericles Papadopoulos

“However, such alteration alvays leaves traces.” Dame Machschnell glowered at the Greek delegate. “Our Legilimens haff verified that ze memories of all those who provided testimony are unaltered - a true representation of events.

“Likevise, our investigators haff confirmed all ze evidence collected thus far: the documents, the artifacts - including the wands of torturers and murderers - and ze tools of necromancy, the footage filmed during ze raid on the concentration camp...

“Perhaps you vish to call zem to testify again? ...including Ms Mason’s young daughter? The girl is available to speak if you vish to subject her to the torment of recounting her travails in person...”

Pericles narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

“That will not be necessary,” he said quietly.

The head of the committee barreled on, her jaw set, eyes glittering dangerously.

“Then there is the testimony of a Kappa assassin - who ve haff in our custody should you vish to speak to him...?”

Pericles shook his head again, and Dame Machschnell continued.

“Ze confirmation of a single piece of evidence vould be enough to bring even one charge against the Minister... and we haff many such pieces of evidence. And over these past weeks, you were here in these very chambers as ve examined all this evidence, were you not?” the head of the committee concluded pointedly.

“Yes, indeed I was,” the Greek delegate answered slickly. “I merely wished to be certain of all the facts before irrevocably and irreparably damaging the sterling reputation of such a highly respected head of government as Minister Umbridge.”

“How very noble of you Pericles,” Madam Ogoba offered coldly, her nostrils flaring. “We wouldn’t want to harm the reputation of someone who encourages the rape and murder of children now, would we?”

Several members of the committee coughed and shuffled uncomfortably in their seats at Olubunmi Ogoba’s pointed remarks. Dame Machschnell raised an eyebrow; her steely look made it clear that the time for debate was long past.

One by one, the committee members raised their hands to affirm the decision to bring charges against Minister Umbridge. Finally, slowly, when the count reached him, Pericles Papadopoulos raised his own hand as he smiled thinly at Madam Ogoba.

“A unanimous decision! Excellent!” exclaimed Dame Machschnell. “I shall call for a full session of the ICW, and ve shall present our findings on ze floor for a vote on Monday.”

**~o0o~**

Harry scowled at a particularly intractable Arithmancy problem on the worksheet. He was loath to ask Hermione for help just yet, as he really wanted to give it his best effort first. He sighed and peered out of the window of the classroom, watching the snow as it came down again.

Winter seemed to still be in full gear at Hogwarts, even though Southern England had recovered from January’s severe cold snap. The last few weekends at Jennifer’s had been quite wet, but yesterday the clouds had parted for a few hours of sunshine and temperatures that hinted at Spring, even though it was still a month off. 

Briefly, Harry wondered what Sirius and Remus were up to. The last time he and Hermione had seen them, they would only say that they were quite busy, though there had been very little indication that the Minister had made any more major moves.

Harry finally returned his attention to the parchment on the desk, but his befogged brain was still refusing to yield any answers. He heard the door open and a gentle voice carry across the classroom.

“Alright you lot, I think you’re due for a break.”

Harry peered at Hestia, grateful for the interruption.

“Harry dear,” said Hestia, addressing him with warm familiarity. “Professor Dumbledore would like a word with you in his office - all of you that is. I think it might be some good news...”

Harry perked up. “Really? What’s going on then? Does this have something t’do with the Minister?”

“I think the headmaster is in a better position to answer your questions dear. Hurry along now...”

Hestia turned to Jennifer who was working on a History assignment. She gave her a hug and whispered in her ear. A flicker of puzzlement crossed Jennifer’s features, but she nodded before joining the others.

“What was that about?” asked Harry as they made their way to Dumbledore’s office.

“I... I’m not sure,” Jennifer replied, biting her lip pensively. “Hestia just said that there was someone we were going to meet, and that we might be able to help them.”

“That’s odd. I wonder who it could be...” said Hermione. “Oh well,” she continued after a moment of thought, “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

When the Coven crowded into the headmaster’s office, Dumbledore was waiting with twinkles in his eyes, though nobody else but Fawkes seemed to be there with him. Harry supposed that whoever else they were meeting was waiting in another room. As usual, Dumbledore offered everyone comfy chairs and cups of tea. Once everyone was seated the headmaster began.

“Thank you all for coming today,” Dumbledore beamed. “I have some welcome news that concerns us all, though that is not the only reason why I have asked you all to join me...”

“Hestia told me that someone wants to meet us,” Jennifer interjected.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore agreed, “And momentarily you shall. But to begin with, the news which brings us together is that the General Assembly of the International Confederation of Wizards met early this morning in Brussels. They issued a ruling based largely on the evidence gathered by you during the raid on the Ministry compound in Wales, and also during the rescue of Arthur Weasley, not to mention the testimony presented by those rescued - including that of Puddleby’s mayor.

“The Committee for the Investigation of Statutory Violations has spent several weeks sorting through the evidence, and suffice it to say that they found it all credible. Thus, when they made their recommendation to the General Assembly of the ICW today, a resolution was passed to issue an International Arrest Warrant for Minister Umbridge.”

Jaws dropped, and gasps of amazement issued from the Coven. The air itself seemed to crackle with excitement. The portraits on the wall burst into applause and Harry’s eyes widened.

“That’s excellent sir! Does that mean that they’re sending help?”

“Alas, that is beyond the purview of the ICW,” the headmaster answered. “The matter is still regarded as an internal conflict, and foreign forces would only be dispatched if this conflict threatened to spill across international boundaries.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Harry sighed, “It might be too interfering otherwise.” 

Hermione nodded in agreement.

“Indeed! However,” Dumbledore continued, “it does mean that our cause is legitimised, and that Minister Umbridge is more or less trapped in Britain. It will be very difficult for her to find safe haven, should she choose to flee when we close in on her.”

“About that sir,” said Harry, “how’s it going finding the rest of the internment centres?”

Dumbledore let out a sigh. “Ah... Well, as you know, after your raid on the Welsh Compound, the others were much more carefully hidden by the Ministry. We are still looking, of course, but our forces are still stretched somewhat thin - despite an upsurge in recruitment - especially as we now have a sizable contingent protecting Puddleby from suffering further retaliatory measures. Though I do believe that our efforts have kept the Ministry’s attempts to round up more muggleborn to a bare minimum.”

“What about countering the Minister’s plans?” asked Hermione. “Do we have any idea yet what she’s planning next.”

“Not at the moment,” Dumbledore responded with another sigh. “However, I am considering several of the most likely scenarios - one of which is that she may make an attempt to lay siege to Hogsmeade, to draw myself and Harry out - and I am formulating a number of plans to counter each and every one of them.

“When I have some further information regarding her movements, I shall be certain to inform you. And then we shall choose the best option - one which shall hopefully lead to the end of this war. Now, if there are any more questions, please feel free to ask.”

When nobody seemed to have anything else to ask, Dumbledore nodded.

“Well then, perhaps it is time to meet our guests.” He waved his wand and a tall mahogany bookcase slid to the side, revealing a hidden door. Harry wondered if it led to Dumbledore’s quarters. The door swung open, and four people stepped into the room.

Harry flushed in recognition. The shy little girl reddened as well and hid behind her mother. A hot cauldron of emotions stirred inside Harry as he recalled the state in which he’d last seen the girl. A surge of savage fury flooded his veins, remembering what the guards at the Welsh compound had done to her.

Then he caught the eye of Clara Dawson’s sister Gemma before she quickly looked away, whom he was quite certain had been subjected to similar treatment by Minister Umbridge’s Death Eaters.

For a brief moment, Harry felt like blowing something up, or burning another building to the ground. Hermione quickly took Harry’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze; he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, feeling himself calm again.

Dora chewed her lower lip, sharing a look of commiseration with Clara Dawson.

Jennifer swallowed, suddenly realising why Hestia had given her the heads up. She glanced at Harry and saw the same distress written all over his face. She knew that if Harry was too upset to say anything, that it might be up to her.

“Introductions hardly seem necessary,” said Dumbledore softly. “But I would like to say that the testimony of Ms Andrea Mason and her daughter Samantha, and of Gemma Dawson, was crucial in swaying the Committee to press for the arrest of Minister Umbridge...”

“And we wanted to thank you all for that opportunity, and... and I really didn’t get a chance to thank you properly when you rescued us,” Andrea suddenly interjected. “Words really aren’t enough - but thank you...” Tears began to trickle as she attempted a smile.

“Thank you especially for saving my daughter, Samantha - she means the world to me. I... I could have died happy knowing that she was safe, but... you saved us both - gave us both a chance to be a family again... Thank you so much!”

“And thank you for my sister,” said Clara Dawson, putting her arm comfortingly around Gemma, who looked like she was about to cry. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.” 

Gemma nodded gratefully, opening and closing her mouth, clearly too anxious to speak.

“Th...thank you! ...from me too!” squeaked a scared little voice from behind Andrea Mason. Samantha peeked her head around her mother, then hid again.

Harry suddenly found himself with tears streaming down his cheeks. The little girl looked even younger to his eyes than he or Hermione had at her age, the year they had started Hogwarts. 

“Er... Hi!” Harry barely managed to croak. “You’re welcome... all of you...” He glanced at Jennifer, catching the rest of the Coven’s glistening eyes as he did so, and then peered questioningly at Hermione and Dora.

Dora nodded, knowing exactly what Harry’s question was. She had been asking herself the same question for some time. 

Hermione could feel it too. She knew what Harry wanted to say - what he wanted to ask if he had a voice.

“Hello!” said Hermione as she smiled, her own eyes teary. “I’m glad we were there - that we were able to save you, Samantha... to save all of you...” Hermione peered earnestly at Samantha’s mother and at Gemma Dawson. “We... we’d like to help you some more if you’ll let us... if Professor Dumbledore will let us...”

“I... I don’t understand,” Andrea Mason looked puzzled. “You’ve already done so much for us. How can you help us more than you already have?”

All eyes turned to Dumbledore. The headmaster peered back at his students over the top of his half-moon spectacles, feeling the same ache in his heart as they all gazed at him beseechingly.

Dumbledore sighed inwardly, raising his bushy eyebrows as he rubbed at his furrowed brow. He had to concede that their unspoken request wasn’t entirely unexpected. He had considered the idea himself, but had decided to leave well enough alone unless a member of the Coven brought it up. It was a dangerous prospect in these troubled times. 

But now the burden of the decision had been thrust right back in his lap. Dumbledore’s clear blue eyes finally came to rest on Jennifer, and he knew that in the end, there was only one correct choice for this circumstance, and that he had to be the one to make the offer.

“Ms Mason, Samantha... Ms Dawson,” he began, “What my students are offering is nothing short of a miracle - a miraculous healing. What might normally be accomplished only after many months - if not years - of counseling and recovery for victims of trauma, can be accomplished in the space of minutes... thanks to a special talent of two of those who sit before you.

“My students - Harry and Hermione Potter - are the only ones to have seen a certain spell through to its fullest potential - a spell which drives away Darkness, Death, and Despair - a spell which restores the Spirit. They are truly the Masters of this Life affirming spell as are no others in the wizard world.

“With this spell - in their hands - Samantha’s and Gemma’s nightmares can be put to rest and their terrors dispelled... if they would allow my students to perform this Charm upon them.

“There is only one possible side-effect of which you must be aware. If either Samantha or Miss Dawson harbour a certain recessive gene - and there is a possibility that they might - then this spell could activate this gene. If this should occur, Samantha and Gemma... they would gain the ability to control Magic - in short, the possibility exists that they may become witches.”

“You’re joking!” gasped Andrea Mason.

“Are you kidding?” asked Gemma Dawson quietly, speaking for the first time, frowning, looking slightly suspicious.

The headmaster shook his head. “Not at all. If you or Samantha do indeed gain magical abilities, you and she would need training of course. Samantha is of the right age to begin such training here at Hogwarts. And though you are certainly past the age of majority, Hogwarts is currently operating an Independent Studies programme, so you would be able to remain and learn while being spared the indignity of sitting in on classes with the younger students... 

“And under the circumstances, given the situation with the current Ministry, I could see fit to allow your sister Clara, and Samantha’s mother, Ms Mason, to reside here as well for the time-being. The choice is yours and Ms Mason’s of course.”

“Erm... I... I don’t know. This... this is quite unbelievable...” Andrea Mason trailed off, a shocked expression on her face, and glanced at her daughter uncertainly, whose eyes had turned into saucers - wide and pleading.

“Mummy? Please...?” squeaked Samantha.

Gemma glanced at her sister uncertainly...

**~o0o~**

Garrick Ollivander tapped his steepled fingers against each other while he waited in Dumbledore’s office with a large trunk full of wands. He peered curiously at the woman in the armchair next to his, and at the headmaster. Dumbledore had sent for him nearly twenty minutes ago with a cryptic request. Ollivander was extremely grateful for the Order’s protection in one of their safehouses, so of course he had come at once.

A number of Dumbledore’s delicate silver and gold instruments appeared to be whirring and spinning with great intensity as Fawkes eyed them warily. Not more than ten minutes later the door burst open and a giddy little girl ran in squealing loudly, a radiant smile on her face.

“Mummy!” she shouted gleefully. “I can do Magic... I’m a witch now!”

The little girl was followed by two young women walking at a more sedate pace, both whispering. One of the young women rolled her eyes.

“Go on, Gemma! Don’t be silly!” said the slightly older looking young woman. “Of course I don’t mind you being a witch. Now let’s go get you a wand...”


	76. The Coup

The next few weeks passed with little incident and another page on the calendar turned, but winter seemed to be stubbornly hanging on in northern Britain when another cold-snap brought late snow-storms to Hogwarts during the first week of March. The Coven had settled into their routine of school during the week, and home on the weekends. But the feeling that something imminent was about to happen never left them.

In that time, Samantha Mason gradually got used to being a witch, and used to being around children her own age again. She and her mother were taken under Hestia Jones’ wing, in whose quarters they were both staying. 

Likewise, Gemma Dawson began acclimating to her new status, being tutored by Hestia Jones, and by the professors after regular classes, and residing in a new suite in the Unaffiliated “House” with her sister Clara.

Daphne couldn’t help but feel a sense of kinship, seeing her own younger sister whenever she looked at Samantha. Likewise, Jennifer, despite feeling a bit discomforted by the reminder of the similarity of her experiences to Samantha’s and Gemma’s, made herself available any time they just wanted to talk about things.

Indeed, the entire Coven went out of their way to make Samantha and Gemma feel welcome. Luna, Ginny, and Parvati introduced them to wizarding games. Fleur and Dora had taken to their roles as “Teacher’s Assistants” very seriously, making every effort to help the new witches with their studies, and Dora began teaching them both self-defence techniques. Harry and Hermione joined in whatever was going on at every opportunity, whenever they weren’t busy themselves.

If any of the professors thought it odd that the two new entrants to wizarding society were “late bloomers,” having only recently and coincidentally discovered their magic after being rescued by the Potters and their friends, they kept it to themselves.

**~o0o~**

It was late Thursday evening, and the Potters lay awake in bed in their private chambers, bathed in the warm glow of the fire crackling in the hearth. Crookshanks yawned and flicked his bushy orange tail before curling it around Hedwig, both of them settling in for a nap as there was little point in taking a midnight prowl in a snowstorm.

Hermione sighed contentedly as she gently kneaded Harry’s chest while he stroked her tawny coils of hair.

“Hermione,” said Harry after they had been laying in silence for a few moments, “I’ve been thinking...”

“Yes Harry?”

“Er... I’ve been wondering, what if we could turn more muggles into wizards? D’you think we should?”

Hermione frowned, biting her lip pensively as she mulled it over. She had to admit, the thought had crossed her mind more than once in the last few weeks, and she still wasn’t entirely certain that they had done the right thing, triggering the activation of Samantha’s and Gemma’s recessive magical genes in the process of helping them get over the worst of their PTSD. 

It _felt_ right, and Hermione knew she would do it again without hesitation under the exact same set of circumstances, but questions still niggled in the back of her mind. Harry’s fingers continued caressing her hair while he waited patiently for her answer. 

“I’m really not sure Harry,” Hermione sighed after several minutes passed. “I know it seems like it might be a good thing, but there’s so much to consider. For one thing, not everyone might want to be a wizard - lots of people are frightened of magic or don’t understand it. And not everyone would use magic for Good. We need to be very careful about who we consider turning.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, nodding in agreement, “I was sort of thinking the same thing now. At first I thought it would be great to give everyone magic, but then I started to have second thoughts. I was thinking about Puddleby - what if our Patronuses accidentally turned a few muggles into wizards?”

“Well, I don’t think we ought to worry about that too much. I doubt very many people came into contact with our Patronuses, and any who do start showing signs of magic could be trained to use it properly. It would only be a problem if too many people became wizards all at once... There aren’t enough wizards qualified to train everybody.”

“Are you sure?” Harry looked troubled. “It’s just... I don’t want to cause more problems for Dumbledore - especially not with the International Confederation of Wizards now that they’re on our side. The Ministry is already blaming him for giving muggles wands and teaching them how to be wizards... If anyone finds out what we did, they might think it’s true.”

“That’s true,” Hermione admitted ruefully. “But it’s all a fraud, Harry. We already know that the Pureblood Supremacists in the Department of Mysteries are just making things up to go after Dumbledore and you. They’re just using a statistical analysis of the increase in muggleborn wizards as a basis for their false claims. 

“Whatever happens in Puddleby won’t make a whit of difference one way or another, and there’s really no way for anyone to prove that we actually turned people into wizards with our Patronuses. Nobody would ever believe it.”

“Okay!” Harry sighed with relief. “Thanks Hermione, that’s a load off my mind...”

**~o0o~**

The scruffy bewhiskered old bartender in the pub which smelled vaguely of goats pointed his wand at the dying embers in the hearth. Fresh logs appeared and the fire sparked to life, orange flames crackling merrily. The three unkempt wizards nursing firewhiskeys and ales at a cracked table near the fireplace nodded in gratitude. The bartender grunted and shuffled back to the bar.

At that moment, the rickety front door of the pub burst open, letting in a flurry of snow and revealing a half-frozen wizard in a thick blue cloak and a long woolen scarf wrapped many times round his neck. The shivering wizard slammed the door shut and brushed the dusting of snow off his shoulders, glancing around the pub, his eyes wild.

“What’ll it be?” asked the bartender grumpily, paying little heed to the panicked state of the new arrival. The other wizard stared at the surly looking barman for a moment.

“Dumbledore,” gasped the potential customer.

“Yeah, that’s me,” snapped Aberforth. “So whaddya want? Ale? Brandy? Elf-wine? ...”

“No... I mean _Headmaster_ Dumbledore!” the other wizard interjected. “We need him... NOW!”

Aberforth scowled and turned away. “Hmmph! Bloody Albus... it’s always about _him,_ isn’t it!? Anyone’d think ‘e’s the only Dumbledore. Dunno why I even bother to...”

“Blast it man! You’re his brother aren’t you? You must have a way to contact him. We need his help right now - there’s a horde of Inferi bearing down on Hogsmeade as we speak...”

**~o0o~**

The wind howled outside, snow piling up against the castle walls, and Harry was glad it was Friday, looking forward to Dorset where Spring was already blooming. Classes had let out for the day and he and Hermione were packing a few things into their bags for their weekend at home when Professor McGonagall’s crisp voice emanated from Harry’s mirror.

“Thank Goodness!” McGonagall exclaimed when she saw Harry’s face in the mirror. “No time to explain Mr Potter... The headmaster needs to see you - all of you, the Unaffiliated - in his office immediately.”

“Er... of course. We’ll be there right away,” said Harry, feeling a sense of trepidation at McGonagall’s tone. 

Dropping everything, Harry and Hermione began knocking on everyone’s door, and the members of the Coven spilled into the corridor, looking bewildered. 

“What’s going on, Harry?” asked Ginny as Parvati and Luna crowded around her.

“Is it the Minister?” asked Parvati, the question which was on everyone’s mind.

“Could be, or maybe Inferi, but I dunno for sure,” Harry replied as he knocked on Dora and Fleur’s door. “McGonagall didn’t say...” 

“All we know is that it’s really urgent,” Hermione added.

When Daphne and Jennifer finally joined the others, everyone was gathered, and the Coven hurriedly made their way through the castle. The gargoyle leapt out of the way when they arrived at the entrance of Dumbledore’s tower, not even bothering to ask for the password.

The Potters and the rest of the Coven bustled into Dumbledore’s office, surprised to find it packed with wizards and witches. Among them were Kingsley Shacklebolt, Madam Bones, Dawlish, and a number of others that they knew to be members of the Order of the Phoenix.

“Ah, Harry...” said Dumbledore, turning from his conversation with Madam Bones to greet the Coven, “Thank you and your companions for coming so quickly. Sirius, Remus, and Alastor should be joining us shortly as well.”

“Sir,” Harry began, “Professor McGonagall seemed a bit upset. Is there an Inferi attack?”

“Of a sort, Harry,” replied the headmaster. “According to Aberforth, Hogsmeade is being invaded as we speak...”

The Coven gasped at Dumbledore’s pronouncement. The headmaster carried on before anyone had a chance to interrupt.

“...However, this was not entirely unexpected. I believe that the moment has arrived Harry. The Inferi incursion is unusual in that nobody in Hogsmeade has been killed as of yet...”

“Then we should deal with them before anyone does get killed, shouldn’t we sir?” said Harry, unable to help himself.

“In due time Harry; however, we should not respond with undue haste, before taking stock of the situation. I do not believe this to be a random attack, and I suspect that these are not contagious Inferi. The fact that the Inferi are menacing, but holding back, suggests that the Minister is baiting her trap for us...”

Harry’s eyes widened in understanding.

“It would appear that Minister Umbridge is loath to wipe out Britain’s largest All-Wizard community,” Dumbledore continued, “lest she lose the support of some of her closest allies, and experience further erosion of whatever public relations advantage that she currently retains. I have no doubt that Ministry forces are at the ready to arrest us the moment we arrive to rescue Hogsmeade.”

“But you have a plan, don’t you?” said Hermione.

“Indeed I do Mrs Potter,” Dumbledore nodded. “Of course, trap or not, we must meet this challenge head on. I have called upon the rest of the Order to join us in this engagement. Given Hogsmeade’s proximity to Hogwarts it is my contention that Minister Umbridge will have brought most of the Ministry’s forces to bear against us, seeking to end this conflict once and for all.”

Harry swallowed as he and Hermione shared a look with the rest of the Coven. This was it then - the moment had come which would determine the future of Britain, win or lose.

“Right! We’re ready sir,” said Harry resolutely. “So when are leaving for Hogsmeade?” Harry was surprised to see a twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes.

“Actually Harry, you and your companions will not be entering the village,” the headmaster replied.

“What?” gasped Fleur. The entire Coven looked equally flabbergasted.

“But sir! ... You just said...” Dora blurted out.

Harry felt his blood rushing in his ears, unable to believe that Dumbledore was going to keep him out of things with the end in sight. This was what all the training had been for. And hadn’t he and the Coven proved more than once that they could handle themselves in battle?

“So, you’re not letting us fight then?” A hint of anger crept into Harry’s voice.

“Oh, indeed your skills shall certainly be put to the test,” Dumbledore retorted, almost cheerfully. “Just not in Hogsmeade. No Harry... I am sending you and your companions to take the Ministry!”

“Wait... What?” Harry’s jaw dropped. He wasn’t certain that he’d heard correctly.

“You and your team shan’t be alone,” Dumbledore went on. “You will also be accompanied by certain Order members - those best positioned to take up their former positions of Authority: Madam Bones, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and John Dawlish. Sirius, Remus, and a number of others shall also be going along to back you up.

“While the Minister is distracted - her eyes on Hogsmeade - she will not be expecting an attack on the Ministry itself. I believe that she will be here personally to oversee our capture. It is also probable that she will return to the Ministry should her plans for us here fall awry. This is our best chance to capture the Minister, either in Hogsmeade or at the Ministry.”

“But what about the Inferi?” piped up Daphne. “Aren’t we needed to deal with them?”

“And won’t Minister Umbridge be expecting to see Harry in Hogsmeade?” asked Hermione.

“As to the Inferi, I have devised a new spell for dealing with them en masse,” Dumbledore responded, eyes twinkling. “Or rather, after much experimentation, I have modified an existing spell to mimic the effects of your remarkable Patronuses. 

“It is a variation on the Immolation Curse, which will only be effective against those who are already dead, and it has also been refashioned to work on large numbers, rather than individuals. I doubt that it will be quite as powerful and effective as your special talent, but it should suffice. Groups of Inferi will be halted in their tracks as they internally combust, immobile and unable to catch fire to their surroundings.

“And as to Harry, Mrs Potter, indeed the Minister will be expecting to see him in Hogsmeade. That is why I will be asking Harry to provide me with a few of his hairs...”

“Polyjuice potion!” Hermione gasped, glancing at Harry worriedly, knowing immediately that he wouldn’t like this part of the plan. “You’re going to polyjuice someone to look like Harry!”

“Very good Mrs Potter. You are quite correct,” Dumbledore agreed. “Several someones in fact. I have six volunteers prepared to be Harry...”

Harry’s features visibly paled, then his brow knitted and his jaw set as the colour flooded back into his cheeks. 

“No,” he said loudly, feeling a rush of heat as he stared mutinously at Dumbledore, “No way! ... No bloody way! ...”

“Saw that coming,” Dora muttered to Fleur, half-smirking. 

Fleur nodded, a little smile creeping to her own lips. Jennifer and Ginny both tried smothering giggles; Luna, Parvati, and Daphne all peered at Harry sympathetically. Everyone knew Harry all too well. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, his clear blue eyes twinkling, and Madam Bones coughed uncomfortably, adjusting her monocle. 

“Harry,” Hermione peered at him beseechingly, “don’t you see Dumbledore’s plan? If we can make it look like you’re still in the village, the Minister will never suspect that you’ll be leading an incursion of the Ministry.”

“Yeah... I get it! But it’s not safe,” said Harry angrily. “Whoever looks like me is going to be a target...”

“That’s the idea, Potter,” growled a voice that Harry recognised. Harry spun around to see Mad Eye Moody entering Dumbledore’s office with Sirius and Remus. 

Sirius gave Harry a wink. “Problem Harry?”

“Professor Dumbledore wants to paint a target on half a dozen people’s backs!” Harry burst out.

“We’re all targets anyway,” the heavily scarred ex-auror next to Sirius said sharply. “This isn’t the time for being noble Potter! We’ve all got jobs to do and we need to get a move on. The time for sitting around and jawin’ is over and done...”

“I understand how you feel Harry,” Lupin offered, shooting a reproachful look at Moody, his voice gentle, “but Mad Eye is right. We are all in danger regardless of who we look like. The Minister’s forces won’t hesitate to use deadly force on each and every one us...”

“Remus and Mad Eye are right, Harry,” Sirius gave Harry an earnest look. “Many of us have been in the cross-hairs longer than you’ve been alive, from people like the Minister and Voldemort. We all know the risks. ... We were able to finish Voldemort, and now it’s Umbridge’s turn - and it’s all down to you and Hermione and your friends, Harry. 

“I couldn’t be prouder of you, and your parents would be proud too, and they both knew that sacrifices sometimes had to be made to fight evil. ... Harry, you and Dumbledore are at the centre of this fight - as leaders, and as the focal point of Evil’s obsessions - but the rest of us have parts to play in it as well. You and Dumbledore don’t have to bear the burden alone...”

“Indeed, this is so, Harry,” Dumbledore interjected, his eyes now serious. “I am no more comfortable than you at the idea of putting some among us at potentially greater risk than others, but this must be done. The confusion this will sow among the Minister’s forces will be a great advantage.”

Harry swallowed anxiously as he wavered, glancing at Hermione, then at Sirius, and back at Dumbledore again. Finally, he nodded and sighed resignedly. 

“Yeah, alright... okay,” said Harry, his voice hardening. “Let’s do this then...”

**~o0o~**

A murmur went up in the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall had assembled all the students and given them the news that Hogsmeade was under siege by Inferi and the Ministry. Quite a number of anxious pupils had gathered at the Mingling Table to discuss the situation.

“So... what are we gonna do?” asked Ron. “I know Harry’s going to fight. We have t’do something too - we can’t just sit this one out.”

“Well said little brother!” Fred grinned, heartily slapping Ron on the back.

“Hear, hear!” said George, nodding.

“But you heard McGonagall,” said Padma anxiously. “Only students who are of age are allowed to fight.”

“So what?” Susan Bones frowned. “If the Inferi or the Ministry attacked Hogwarts too, we’d have to fight anyway. We don’t really have a choice if we want to stop them from hurting people we care about. My auntie is going to fight them, and so am I. Isn’t this what we’ve been all been training for these past weeks?”

“Absolutely!” Neville exclaimed, his eyes burning with resolve. “All of our practice with fighting spells won’t mean anything if we don’t use it to help. We need to do our bit too.”

“Okay... You’re right!” Padma agreed. “Of _course_ we have to help. I didn’t mean that we shouldn’t, I was just pointing out that McGonagall and the other professors might try to stop us...”

“They’ll be too busy for that,” said Fred dismissively.

“But how do we get to Hogsmeade and avoid the Inferi?” asked Seamus. “We haven’t learned how to apparate yet...”

“Brooms,” answered Viktor Krum. “I vos going to suggest zat for the younger students to begin with, but I think brooms is ze best for us anyvay. Ve vill fly to Hogsmeade and attack from the sky.”

“Of course...” Cedric’s eyes lit up, “Brilliant, Viktor!” Cho smiled and nodded her agreement.

“Smashing! I’m in!” said Angelina.

“Count us in then.” Alicia and Katie Bell both nodded as well.

“Me too,” Dean added.

“Alright... this could work! We’re all in too then,” said Blaise Zabini, glancing at Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott.

Theo flexed his prosthetic fingers and grinned at Blaise and Pansy. Over the past few months Theo had grown used to using a wand with his left hand. And upon his return to Hogwarts, Dumbledore had developed the prosthetic fingers for Theo. They would work well enough to hold a broom with his right hand.

Viktor nodded his approval and glanced at the rest. Hannah Abbott and Ernie MacMillan nodded back, and two of the Ravenclaws, Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein, indicated their readiness as well. A murmur of agreement swept through the rest of the small crowd. 

“Very good!” said Viktor. “Ve shall slip away when McGonagall is busy. Just to keep in mind vhen fighting, zat Reductor spells are best for Inferi...”

**~o0o~**

Minister Dolores Umbridge shivered slightly as the shadows of the mountains crept over Hogsmeade and the afternoon - dark as it already was under grey skies and falling snow - turned to dusk. She ignored the brief flicker of doubt and recast her warming charm, peering below at the town, searching for signs of Dumbledore and Potter. From their vantage point on the rooftop terrace of the Three Broomsticks, the Minister and her deputy, Senior Undersecretary Percy Weasley, could see most of the town.

Several thousand Inferi milled in the snowy streets, doing little else but lurching and groaning. Just out of sight in corners, alleyways, and shadows, the bulk of the Ministry of Magic’s forces - Unspeakables, Snatchers, Death Eaters, and the few remaining Aurors who hadn’t resigned in protest - lay in wait for the expected Insurrectionists to arrive.

Senior Undersecretary Percy Weasley examined the strange device in his hand, marveling again at the new invention from the Department of Mysteries. It struck Percy as somewhat ironic that he was in possession of a piece of magical technology with which his father would be utterly fascinated. The magical communication device was based on a muggle technology - two way radios - crafted specifically for occasions such as this which required instant communications.

Minister Umbridge nodded at Percy, indicating that he should do a check. Percy pressed a button and cleared his throat.

“Calling all Units,” he began, hoping that his voice didn‘t give away his nervousness, “any sign of Dumbledore or Potter?”

A voice crackled on the magical two-way radio. “Unit One responding - nothing here yet...”

“Nothing to report here either,” said a second voice.

“Wait...” said a third, “I think... something’s happening...”

**~o0o~**

Warlock Crabbe cursed the cold, briskly rubbing his frozen hands together and wishing that something would just happen already. Warlock Goyle raised his eyes at his fidgeting companion. Several of the Unspeakables stationed with the two Death Eaters frowned. 

“Keep quiet,” one of the Unspeakables hissed, “We don’t want to...” 

The ringing sound of a number of loud apparition cracks in the street interrupted the disdainful Unspeakable. At the same time, the Senior Undersecretary’s youthful voice could be heard emanating from the newfangled contraption in the Unspeakable’s hand.

“Wait... I think... something’s happening,” the Unspeakable muttered in response.

Indeed, the street lit up and more cracks rang out as spells were cast by the half a dozen wizards who had just arrived. The previously listless Inferi lumbered into action and swarmed the wizards; individually, the groaning reanimated corpses proved little match for the Reductor spells cast by the newcomers, but they made up for it with their greater numbers. 

In the flickering lights of the spells, two of the wizards were instantly recognisable; a tall wizard with a long silvery beard, and a young one with round glasses and a messy black moptop.

“It’s Dumbledore and Potter,” the Unspeakable barked into the magical two way.

“Take them now!” screeched Minister Umbridge’s voice from the device. “Use any means necessary.”

Crabbe and Goyle grinned at each other. Finally, their chance to avenge themselves and the Dark Lord was upon them.

**~o0o~**

Minister Umbridge cackled gleefully as she peered over the balcony, looking in the direction from where the first sounds of fighting were coming. Suddenly, more apparition cracks echoed through the town, and soon the sound of pitched battle could be heard throughout Hogsmeade.

The Minister and her deputy knew that it must be the rest of the Order arriving to put down the Inferi, but they were relatively unconcerned. Dumbledore and Potter were the priority, and the Order was surely outnumbered by the Ministry’s forces and distracted by the Inferi.

“But why isn’t Potter using the Secret Weapon yet?” Percy muttered, frowning in puzzlement, as a flicker of uncertainty crossed his mind. “Something’s wrong!”

“Perhaps Potter requires his mate - the Mudblood...” Dolores suggested. “The spell may require more than one to activate.”

“But where is she then?” Percy asked. The magical two-way crackled to life again, interrupting Percy’s pondering.

“I’ve got him,” said an excited voice. “Potter... I’ve just stunned Potter - outside Zonko’s.”

“That can’t be!” Dolores scowled. “He’s with Dumbledore outside the Post Office right now.”

“No he’s not,” said another voice belonging to a witch. “I’ve got Potter in my sights outside of Tomes and Scrolls.”

“They can’t _all_ be Potter,” Percy fumed.

“POLYJUICE!” screamed Dolores. “But one of them _**has**_ to be the real one! I don’t care how many Potters there are. Bring them all to me right now, and we’ll soon sort this out. But I need Dumbledore and the Potters alive - kill all the others if you have to.”

**~o0o~**

Dumbledore whirled around gracefully, a jet of bright silvery magic lancing from his wand. A score of Inferi halted in their tracks and shuddered; sparks and flame burst from their eyes and mouths as their flesh withered and blackened.

Spells shot out from the dark alley between the Post Office and the Grocery shop, exploding in the midst of the Order members who were fighting the Inferi. Cut off from the others by the smoke, and distracted by another group of the Undead bearing down on them, Dumbledore and the boy who looked like Harry Potter were quickly disarmed by Expelliarmus spells.

Ropes conjured from thin air bound the headmaster and the boy. Warlocks Crabbe and Goyle chortled as each grabbed a prisoner and disapparated, marveling at how easy it had been to capture Dumbledore and Potter. Moments later they reappeared on the rooftop terrace of the Three Broomsticks.

“What the Bloody Hell?” gasped Goyle.

Crabbe was equally flabbergasted to see a number of Unspeakables with five more Harry Potters in their clutches. Senior Undersecretary Weasley looked disconcerted to see so many Potters. Minister Umbridge’s features were livid.

“How many more?” she snarled at Dumbledore. “How many Potters did you make?”

Dumbledore regarded the Minister calmly. “Well now, surely you don’t expect me to make this easy for you, do you Minister Umbridge?”

“It was easy enough to capture you,” the Minister snapped. “And if you don’t tell me what I wish to know, some Veritaserum should loosen your tongue.”

“I expect so,” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “Unless of course, we have all imbibed the counter-potion to Veritaserum before embarking on our mission to rescue Hogsmeade.”

“Impossible!” The Minister looked briefly discomfited. “You would have had to know that we would be here to catch you...”

“Quite so,” Dumbledore interjected, his eyes twinkling.

“But the Ministry has been purged,” Percy asserted. “You can’t possibly have any moles left on the inside.”

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore replied. “Regardless, I did not need a mole to suspect that you would likely attempt to capture Harry and myself during our next encounter with the Inferi. In fact, you were all too predictable...”

“Ridiculous!” sputtered Minister Umbridge. “So you’re saying that you expect me to believe that you just waltzed in here knowingly and just... allowed yourself to be captured?”

“Indeed,” said Dumbledore serenely.

Silence reigned on the snowy rooftop of the Three Broomsticks while the Minister tried to make sense of this turn of events. Dumbledore seemed all too pleased with himself, and Dolores didn’t like it one little bit. Percy was right, something was dreadfully wrong, but she couldn’t make heads or tails of the situation. Finally something inside of her snapped.

“Fine,” Umbridge growled. “If that’s the way you want to play it, I’ll just kill the Potters one by one while you watch, Dumbledore, and then I’ll finish you. Once you’re gone, it doesn’t matter if the real Potter is running around somewhere. I’ll find him and his little Mudblood sooner or later, and when I do, you won’t be around to protect them anymore.”

Minister Umbridge glowered at Dumbledore and raised her wand, aiming it at one of the Potters.

**~o0o~**

The squadron of brooms flew above the snow dusted treetops in the gathering dusk towards Hogsmeade. As they passed over the village, colourful jets and arcs of magic lit up the streets as the battle between Order members, and Inferi and Snatchers raged below.

Viktor Krum and Cedric Diggory each split off with small groups of students following them to aid the Order in the streets while the Weasleys, Seamus, Padma, Susan, Hannah, and Neville circled above looking for Harry and the Unaffiliated.

“There... on the roof of the Three Broomsticks,” shouted Padma. “Dumbledore and Harry - they’re in trouble.”

“But I don’t see Hermione and the others,” Neville yelled back.

“Bloody Hell!” gasped Ron as the wind whipped at his hair and snowflakes stung his cheeks. “There’s half a dozen Harry’s. Which one’s the real Harry?”

“Never mind that...” said Fred.

“...We’ll just have to save the lot of them,” George concluded.

The Weasleys led the way as the squadron swooped down towards the rooftop. Seeing the Minister aim her wand at one of the Harrys, Seamus was the first to react, casting a bombarda spell. Several things happened all at once when the explosive spell went off like a small grenade, hitting the terrace.

It wasn’t big enough to cause too much damage, but the force of the impact shook the roof, smoke billowed, and the surprise was enough to cause the Minister to shriek and prevent her from getting off her killing spell. Percy flung himself in front of the Minister to protect her.

The Unspeakables, and Crabbe and Goyle all dove for cover, releasing their grip on Dumbledore and the six Potters. Dumbledore took advantage of the confusion to perform a bit of wandless magic, slipping out of the ropes which bound him.

Freed from his bonds, Dumbledore pulled from his sleeve his hidden wand, having used a spare during his fight with the Inferi. He quickly cast a releasing spell, freeing the Potters from their ropes. All six Potters seemed to have armed themselves with spare wands as well, having prepared with Dumbledore beforehand for the eventuality that they might need them.

Chaos erupted on the rooftop as the Minister, Percy, Crabbe, Goyle, and the Unspeakables all began to recover themselves and shoot spells at their attackers. Spell-fire flew everywhere as the Weasleys, Seamus, Hannah, Padma, Susan, and Neville zoomed about on their brooms casting their own Stunning spells.

Warlock Goyle aimed his wand at one of the redheads flying above them, determined to take down a Weasley.

“Avada Kedavra,” he yelled. A bolt of green lightning barely missed Fred. 

“That’s my brother, you bastard,” shouted George, retaliating with an Expulsor. 

Goyle went hurtling off the roof, crashing to the street below. Meanwhile, a Stunning spell from Susan knocked Crabbe out cold. Dumbledore and the Potters were dueling handily and making short work of most of the Unspeakables,

Neville wheeled his broom around, easily dodging a stray Killing Curse, thanking his lucky stars for all the extra training, flying with Viktor Krum. He fired a Stunning spell at the Minister, but Percy leapt in front of her again. The youngest Senior Undersecretary in history went out like a light, collapsing at the Minister’s feet, face first in the trampled, slushy snow.

Boiling with rage, Minister Umbridge realised that the rooftop was lost. She didn’t have Dumbledore or Potter, and nobody was left to protect her. Before anyone had a chance to stop her, she bolted inside the stairwell and slammed the door shut behind her. Dolores darted down the stairs and into the first room she saw, flinging green powder in the fireplace.

“The Ministry, Department of Mysteries, Operations Division,” she barked before jumping into the green flames and vanishing.

Percy came to, just in time to see one of the Unspeakables who was still fighting aim a spell at one of the two brooms zipping past them. The spell nicked one of the brooms and the tail burst into flames. 

**“NOOOO! ... Seamus!”** bellowed the red-headed figure who was still aloft.

Percy blinked uncertainly as he watched Seamus Finnegan’s broomstick spiral down into the street. Percy caught Ron’s terrified and angry features when he spun his broom around.

“Got ‘im,” the Unspeakable snarled. “Now for the other one,” he barked, taking aim at Ron.

Percy didn’t know what possessed him. In slow motion, he watched his own fist crash into the side of the Unspeakable’s face. The Unspeakable looked shocked for a moment, then crumpled as he passed out. 

Percy and Ron stared at each other, both surprised at what had just happened. 

His fist still shaking slightly, Percy glanced at the mayhem in the streets below, spying a number of fallen wizards, their blood staining the snow, a few of whom were being savaged by Inferi as some of the other Order members blasted the Inferi with spells which appeared to be weak versions of Dumbledore’s Secret Weapon, while others dueled with Snatchers and Unspeakables.

“What have I done?” Percy moaned as he looked on in horror. “... What have I done?” 

Ron didn’t waste anymore time looking confused. He zoomed down to street level and tumbled off his broom, kneeling next to Seamus in the dirty slush. Finding a heartbeat, Ron breathed a sigh of relief and glanced back up at the rooftop, seeing Dumbledore sadly taking Percy into custody.

**~o0o~**

The Ministry seemed unnaturally quiet with most of the workers gone home for the evening. Harry’s heart raced, his nerves on edge and his senses heightened. Despite the ease of their passage thus far, invisible as the Coven was while traveling through the paintings and portraits, Harry knew he couldn’t afford to let his guard down.

“It seems so empty,” Daphne murmured after leaving Shacklebolt, Madam Bones, Dawlish and Arthur Weasley, and Sirius and Lupin and a few other ex-Aurors to secure the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. “I suppose everyone’s in Hogsmeade?”

“Maybe, but we should still be careful,” Harry quietly warned the Coven. “I didn’t have time to check the Chinese symbols painted on us and refresh them. So we might be a bit more vulnerable to physical attacks.”

“Of course Harry,” Hermione agreed.

“We’ll be cautious Harry,” Dora whispered back. “I’d be surprised if there weren’t at the very least a skeleton crew of Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries... and perhaps a bit of Security at the top level in the Atrium.”

“That’s what I expect too,” said Hermione. “But with any luck, dealing with whoever is left in the D.O.M. won’t be any worse than taking the Ministry compound in Wales...”

“Not to mention that we have Sirius and Remus here to back us up if we need them,” Harry added.

“We’re nearly there, aren’t we?” asked Luna. “Isn’t the Department of Mysteries on Level Nine?”

“Yes,” Parvati answered. “I remember from before - just a few more paintings and portraits. We can enter the D.O.M. through the portrait of Prometheus.”

Daphne swallowed nervously as she peered out of the landscape painting which the Coven was currently inhabiting. The corridor beyond the frame looked dark and forbidding. Silently and invisibly, the Coven passed from one painting to the next until finally they reached the portrait of Prometheus.

Prometheus seemed quite pleased to meet Harry and Hermione again when they undid their Disillusionment spells.

“... There are at least a dozen Unspeakables here tonight - perhaps a few more,” he told the Coven after introductions had been made with Fleur, Luna, Ginny, Daphne, and Jennifer. “But they have not been alerted yet to your presence.”

“So we’ve still got the element of surprise,” whispered Harry. “Excellent!”

One by one, the Coven slipped out of the portrait and made their way down a hallway, past a chamber with an enormous working model of the solar system. The next door they passed appeared to be locked, but when it opened of its own accord in a beckoning manner, Harry and Hermione both recalled their previous visit.

It took all of their willpower not to enter the Chamber of Love - the massive luminous shimmering Orb seemed to be calling out to them again. This time everyone felt it.

“Magnifique!” gasped Fleur, tears trickling down her cheeks.

“It’s beautiful,” said Jennifer as Daphne nodded and squeezed her hand.

“I think it’s making us glow again,” said Luna, peering at Ginny. 

“Oh no,” Ginny squeaked. “That could be a problem, couldn’t it?”

That snapped Dora out of her trance.

“We’d better keep going - find the Unspeakables and take ‘em out before they discover us,” Dora muttered.

“Right... er... yeah!” Harry tore himself away. “Anyway, the Operations centre is this way,” he said, leading them on further down the corridor.

Hermione frowned, her sharp hearing catching what seemed to be extra footsteps echoing in the corridor; she grabbed Harry’s arm as two Unspeakables rounded the corner at the end of the passage, spotting the Coven. 

_“Harry!”_ she shouted. In the nick of time, Hermione yanked him out of the path of a spell which hit the wall with a burst of red sparks.

Harry swore under his breath. The element of surprise was lost. The Coven began shooting Stunning spells from their wands, but the two Unspeakables dodged and hid behind the corners, returning fire.

“Bloody Hell!” yelled one of the Unspeakables. “Potter? What’s ‘e doing here? ‘E’s supposed t’be in Hogsmeade!”

“It’s Potter and his Mudblood - and the rest of his little gang from Hogwarts,” the other barked into a device in his hand. “Corridor six...”

“Quick, in here!” Dora kicked open a door on the other side of the passage and the Coven darted inside, slamming the door and locking it behind them with a Colloportus spell. Banging and shouting could be heard coming from the other side as the door shook violently.

“Zat won’t hold them long,” said Fleur nervously.

“It won’t have to,” said Harry, his face lighting up when he saw which room it was. “This is perfect...”

“What’s this room?” asked Jennifer, peering around at the long rows and aisles of shelves holding what appeared to be thousands upon thousands of small glittering crystal orbs.

“The Hall of Prophecies,” Hermione replied. “We spotted it the last time we were here. The little globes all contain prophecies made by Seers over the centuries. According to Dumbledore, the prophecy about Harry and Voldemort is in here somewhere...”

“Anyway,” Harry interjected forcefully, getting back on the topic of most immediate concern, “we can hide in these aisles and start picking off the Unspeakables when they break down the door. Dora - you, Jennifer, Fleur and Daphne - you take that side. Hermione, Parvati, Luna, Ginny, and I will take this side. As soon as you see someone appearing, stun them and bind them with Incarcerous spells...

“Let’s try to do this cleanly... if we can,” Harry added, hoping that they could avoid bloodshed - more importantly, hoping he could maintain control of his own anger.

“Sounds like a plan Harry!” said Dora, nodding. “But don’t hold back if they start using Killing Curses, alright.”

“Right, of course!” Harry sighed.

Quickly, everyone took their positions, and not a moment too soon. The door burst open, flying off its hinges. Red bolts of magic flew and the first three Unspeakables through the doorway collapsed, out cold and bound in ropes. But the others were not so readily subdued.

Thick smoke poured from a wand poking through the doorway, obscuring the Coven’s view. Rapid footsteps informed the Coven that the other Unspeakables were entering the Hall of Prophecies under cover of the smoke.

The battle in the Hall of Prophecies was fierce, and Harry knew his hopes for a fairly blood free fight were shot. The Unspeakables were playing for keeps, firing off Killing Curses, blasting spells, and deadly looking hexes without hesitation. Shards of crystal flew everywhere as numerous globes containing prophecies were shattered in the explosions.

Harry grit his teeth as he and Hermione reluctantly resorted to Sectumsempra, each of them taking the wand hand of two unfortunate Unspeakables.

A Killing Curse only just missed Luna, demolishing a row of Prophecies. Parvati and Ginny both simultaneously responded with a Reductor spell and the offending Unspeakable’s screams echoed as he disintegrated, surrounded by ethereal, misty seers recounting prophecies which would never be heard again. 

Another Unspeakable went up in flames when Fleur hit him with a Veela Fireball after he tried to kill Dora. 

The fight was a running one; the Potters, Daphne, and Jennifer soon found themselves split off from the others in the Mind Chamber with a number of Unspeakables hot on their trail. They barely managed to dodge the Unspeakables’ spells jetting past them, as they looked for cover behind the enormous tanks in the chamber from which to return fire. 

A vat containing brains exploded, drenching everyone, and the room filled with smoke and steam. The Potters heard screams but were cut off, unable to see through dense clouds as liquid and brain-matter spread across the floor.

“Jennifer, Daphne!” yelled Harry, his heart pounding as he charged into the mist back towards where he had last seen them, Hermione right behind him. 

Green arcs of lightning penetrated the fog. Harry and Hermione slipped in the slimy goo trying to avoid the killing curses, and skidded through an open doorway at the other end of the room into a chamber which they hadn’t seen before. 

Harry’s last sight was of an Unspeakable bursting through the billowing clouds behind them and firing a blasting spell. Harry felt the full force of the spell strike him and Hermione squarely, and for a brief terrifying moment as he blacked out, he thought they were both dead. 

Harry’s head was throbbing and spinning when he came to, his mouth full of blood from a split lip, and his ears were ringing.

“Hermione,” he croaked, wondering in a panic where she was.

He blinked, squinting into the shadows of the dark chamber, and realised he was at the bottom of a sunken pit sprawled on a stone floor, surrounded on all sides by a series of concrete steps. Several Unspeakables stood silhouetted in the hazy glow emanating through a doorway above, which he presumed was the entrance to the brain room through which he and Hermione had just been blasted, their wands trained upon him.

“Aaaargh!” Harry groaned; a sharp searing pain shot through his leg as he tried to move into a better position to look for Hermione. It was clearly broken.

His face paled when he heard an all too recognisable high pitched chuckle. Harry turned his head and saw a toad-like figure dressed in pink holding a still unconscious Hermione, both of them on top of a craggy dais near an ancient stone archway - which almost looked antediluvian, a remnant of a forgotten age like Stonehenge - within which hung a fluttering wispy veil.

There was something ominous and foreboding about the stone arch and the hairs rose on the back of Harry’s neck, a shiver running up his spine. Instinctively, he knew that if Hermione passed through that veil, he’d never see her again.

“Well, well... Potter!” hissed the Minister. “The REAL one I presume. Too bad for you - your little coup attempt ends right here, right now... after you’ve said goodbye to your filthy little Mudblood.”

“NO!” gasped Harry, frantically spitting out blood. “You can’t...”

“Oh yes, Mr Potter! I can,” chortled the Minister. “Imagine my surprise to find you and your little entourage here causing mayhem when I arrived just moments ago. But I couldn’t be happier at this turn of events. There I was, thinking that all was lost - that it would be back to the drawing board - but now here I am, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. 

“With you in my hands, Dumbledore will have no choice but to turn himself in... Don’t dare hope that your little friends might save you, they are still quite busy - being rounded up as we speak - I can assure you. You are quite alone at the moment...”

The Minister pointed at the two Unspeakables looming above Harry and continued. “...Alone and outnumbered, not to mention, unarmed.”

Harry groaned, sending another stab of pain coursing through his head. The Minister was correct; his wand was lying on the floor several metres away from him. He supposed that it was unlikely that he could accio it and take three Unspeakables and the Minister in time to save Hermione from whatever awful fate the Minister had planned for her. 

Dark thoughts of Doom flashed before Harry’s eyes. Was this really how it was all going to end? But even if it was, Harry wasn’t about to give Minister Umbridge the satisfaction of groveling at her feet, begging for his and Hermione’s life. 

“You don’t know Dumbledore very well, then,” Harry managed to snarl through wracks of pain, “if you think he’d ever give up the fight just for one person. It was never all about me - Voldemort found that out the hard way - and eventually you will too! ... As long as the Ministry stands for bigotry and prejudice and murder, people will keep fighting you until you’re finished. So you might as well just kill us both now.”

“Oh, no Mr Potter,” said the Minister in her most saccharine tones, a broad grin playing across her face. “I don’t think so. Unlike that fool Voldemort, I have no plan to martyr you, to turn you into a mythic hero, forever enshrined as an icon for Mudbloods to rally around, challenging the Authority of the Ministry. ... I am going to parade you, broken and defeated - show the public that you are no hero - no saviour - just a pathetic, naughty little boy who deserves to be punished. 

“You thought you could thumb your nose at ancient wizarding blood and traditions Mr Potter - you thought that you could wipe your behind on the values of those of superior breeding. But you were wrong, and now you will pay! ... I still have use for you - and I think you sell yourself short as a bargaining chip with Dumbledore. There is no doubt in my mind that Dumbledore cherishes you above all else.

“But your precious little Mudblood on the other hand, she is less than nothing, as I am about to demonstrate. Your punishment begins now Mr Potter, with the end of her miserable life...” 

Just as Harry was about to give up all hope, a loud boom rocked the chamber, smoke billowing through the entrance above. The startled Unspeakables swiveled, re-aiming their wands at the doorway and yelling, “Avada Kedavra!”

Harry took advantage of the Minister’s momentary distraction and summoned his wand. It skittered across the stone floor and he caught it deftly in his hand as one of the Unspeakables burst into flame - apparently a victim of one of Fleur’s Veela Fireballs - and the other two keeled over, screaming as their legs were quite literally swept out from under them, most likely by Sectumsempra spells. 

“NOOOO!” screamed the Minister as her last hope of success floundered before her eyes. Her face purple with rage, Minister Umbridge dropped Hermione and aimed her wand at the witches emerging from the smoke-filled doorway. “FILTHY MUGGLE-LOVERS! ABOMINATIONS! AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA!”

Jennifer and Daphne both ducked and rolled out of the path of the Minister’s Killing Curses. Harry took aim and slashed his wand. The Minister howled as her wand hand separated from her wrist in a crimson spray of blood.

Shrieking madly in pain, her eyes boggling in shock, Minister Dolores Umbridge staggered backwards and tripped over Hermione’s outstretched foot. Time seemed to move in slow motion as Dolores Umbridge tumbled through the veil and vanished, the only trace of her left, a bloody hand lying on the dais near Hermione, and the fading echoes of her screams in the Chamber of Death.

Harry knew that Umbridge was gone - passed over to the Other Side. He swallowed, his eyes stinging when he realised just how close Hermione had come to dying. Relief flooded Harry when he saw Hermione stirring and heard her groan in pain. 

“Harry,” she called out weakly. “Did... did you get her?” 

Ignoring his own agony, and yells from Daphne, Jennifer, and Fleur to stay still, Harry dragged himself across the floor and hauled himself onto the stone dais, clutching Hermione to his chest, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Bloody hell, Harry!” moaned Dora. “Your leg...” 

Breathing heavily from pain and exertion, Harry glanced up to see that the others had arrived. Luna, Parvati, Ginny, and Dora, had joined Daphne, Fleur, and Jennifer; they all looked more than a bit roughed up, with bruises, cuts and abrasions, and scorch marks. They were followed by Sirius, Lupin, and Arthur Weasley, and all of them crowded around the dais looking extremely worried.

“Hermione’s safe... she’s alive... that’s all that matters...” Harry managed to say between gasps.

“Not to me...” Hermione murmured, as she tried to smile, which was broken by a wince and another groan, “That’s why I stuck my foot out and tripped her, to give _**you**_ a chance. Where is she? ... You got her, right? What happened to Minister Umbridge?” 

“Umbridge - she’s gone,” said Harry, returning Hermione’s attempted smile with one of his own. “I guess it was both of us then. After I took her wand hand, when you tripped her, she fell through the veil and disappeared...”

“Wh...what?” Painfully, Hermione rolled onto her side and saw for herself Umbridge’s stubby little hand lying next to the stone archway. 

“Oh,” she said, raising her eyebrows. Hermione shivered slightly, as if it was cold, when she saw the veil fluttering, despite the lack of breeze, and scooted back closer to Harry.

“Then it’s all over, you two,” said Dora, grinning. “It’s finished... we’ve dealt with the Unspeakables here. Sirius, Remus, and Arthur showed up to help us finish them off after securing the DMLE, and apparently Dumbledore and his lot are just mopping up in Hogsmeade...”


	77. The Last Enemy

It was just past nine in the morning and the Prime Minister was sitting alone in his office, sipping his third cup of tea and absentmindedly rereading the same paragraph on the memo from the Chancellor of the Exchequer for the umpteenth time. Generally speaking, the Prime Minister had little problem following the Chancellor’s detailed monetary reports and budget proposals, but this morning, everything was slipping through his brain as if through a sieve.

He sighed, supposing it was due to the fact there was just too much else going on. Not only was he awaiting a telephone call from the president of the United States regarding the continuing pressure from the president’s opposition party to escalate the current situation in Iraq - apparently hoping that he, as the leader of the British equivalent to the American opposition party, would talk some sense into them - the Inquiry in the Parliament concerning Puddleby was growing more contentious, and peace talks with the more amenable faction of the IRA were breaking down again. 

The Prime Minister had hoped for some good news from Minister Umbridge regarding her plan to put an end to the insurrection in the wizard world, but she hadn’t got back to him yet, and that was most worrisome of all. Everything else could eventually be navigated successfully as long as the bankers and corporate heads were happy, and with Umbridge in his corner, things in that regard were still going splendidly.

As the clock ticked on, the Prime Minister finally gave up trying to read the memo. He stood up and stretched, glancing at the liquor cabinet. Sighing, he decided that there wasn’t much point to remaining completely sober under the circumstances, as it was obvious he wouldn’t be getting any more work done until he heard from Minister Umbridge. 

The PM opened the cabinet and retrieved a bottle of Glenlivet, adding a healthy splash of the Scotch to his tea. He drained the cup in one swallow, then poured himself a straight shot into the teacup, nearly filling it. While he sipped and paced in his office, the sound of wailing police sirens nearby caught his attention.

The Prime Minister frowned as the cacophony grew louder and closer; it sounded like the entirety of Scotland Yard had been mobilised. He wondered what the hell was going on. Surely if it was another protest or a bombing he would have been notified. Scurrying to the window, he looked out through the rain-streaked panes, shocked to see police vehicles screeching to a halt below, just outside the front doors of Number Ten.

“Bloody Hell!” the PM gasped when he saw fully armed special police units arriving. “What on earth...?”

The sound of flames crackling in the hearth of the marble fireplace behind him caught his attention, and he felt a surge of relief, whirling around to greet Minister Umbridge. But to his great shock, a tall elderly man with a long silvery beard and piercing blue eyes wearing gaudy, colourful robes emerged from the green flames instead, followed by another man - a balding, red haired man with glasses wearing more normal clothes.

“Wh...what the...? Who the hell are you?” asked the Prime Minister, dread settling in the pit of his stomach like a dead weight, having a horrible feeling that he already knew the answer.

“You may as well finish that,” said the elderly wizard, eyeing the PM’s teacup cannily. “It may be the last libation you will enjoy for the foreseeable future, and will no doubt ease what is certain to be a trying day for you...”

Banging and shouting from downstairs interrupted the wizard, and the Prime Minister considered bolting for his door and yelling for help.

“They will be here soon enough,” remarked the wizard calmly. “They are here for you, not for me or my colleague, and they are no doubt arguing with your staff regarding the proper procedure concerning your arrest...”

“My... my arrest?” The Prime Minister’s knees wobbled slightly. “Then you... you must be...”

“Albus Dumbledore, yes...” Dumbledore nodded. “I am here to inform you of current affairs and oversee a smooth arrest process. And this would be Arthur Weasley, the interim Acting Minister for Magic, though I have no doubt that he will eventually be ratified by the Wizengamot as a proper replacement for Minister Umbridge...” 

“I still say it should be Kingsley,” muttered Arthur Weasley. 

“Nonsense, Arthur,” said Dumbledore kindly. “There could be none more suited to the task, and Kingsley and Amelia quite agree with me, as does Warlock Greengrass...”

Trembling, his heart beginning to thud loudly in his ears, the Prime Minister thought that perhaps the old wizard was right and downed the rest of his whiskey in one huge gulp, then poured himself another cupful...

**~o0o~**

Harry blinked, wondering briefly where he and Hermione were as he awoke, then remembering that he was once again in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. He turned his head, groaning when it throbbed, unsurprised to see from the clock on the wall that it was almost noon; he had been up most of the night having a number of bones in his leg being regrown after all.

“Good Morning Harry,” said Hermione from her own hospital bed, where she herself was still recuperating. “So much for our weekend at home,” she sighed, sitting up and giving Harry a wan smile. 

Harry grinned back at her. “It could have been worse. At least _you_ didn’t need any Skelegro,” 

“At least neither of us are dead,” said Hermione, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sorry I couldn’t cuddle you last night,” she went on, peering at Harry apologetically.

“Ahem, well, perhaps we can rectify that after you’ve both had some breakfast, Mrs Potter...” said a familiar voice. Harry and Hermione both turned a bit pink as they peered at Madam Pomfrey, who had just arrived with a trolley full of breakfast. “And you are quite correct dear. You are both very fortunate indeed, considering that you both took a direct hit from such a powerful Bombarda - by rights you should both be dead.

“Surviving that blast with only concussions, a few cracked ribs, a fractured wrist, and a broken leg between the both of you is nothing short of miraculous. Once again, Mr Potter’s skill with those amazing Chinese Runes has stood you all very well indeed.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” Harry winced as he shifted his sore leg and took a deep breath. Pomfrey had healed his cracked ribs easily, but they were still sore as well. “It still hurts to breathe though.”

“Tell me about it,” Hermione groaned. “I almost feel worse than I did after the Battle of Hogwarts when we fought Voldemort’s forces. My head still hurts.”

“Which is why you will both be in this hospital ward for another day at least,” said Madam Pomfrey sternly.

“How’s everyone else?” asked Harry, suddenly realising that he and Hermione were the only ones left in the hospital wing.

“Perfectly fine, Mr Potter,” Madam Pomfrey reassured him. “You and Mrs Potter sustained the worst injuries of those among you at the Ministry by far, and your friend Mr Finnigan only sustained a minor concussion and some bruising. I’ve sent everyone away for now, as you both need your rest - your concussions were much worse than Mr Finnigan’s. 

“The headmaster did insist that you have access to a Wiz-vision in the meantime, however, to keep you informed until he has time to confer with you both. Apparently it has been enchanted to carry something called the BBC News as well...”

Once Harry and Hermione were sitting comfortably, with breakfast trays on their laps, Madam Pomfrey departed, returning moments later wheeling in a large Wiz-Vision monitor. Cheerily munching eggs and bacon, Harry and Hermione flicked back and forth between the ongoing BBC reports regarding the arrest of the muggle Prime Minister, and sparse updates on WVN featuring Rita Skeeter regarding the aftermath of the battle of Hogsmeade, and the changeover at the Ministry. For the moment, there was no mention that Harry or Hermione had been at the Ministry, although it was apparently presumed that they had fought at Hogsmeade.

Following their late breakfast, they spent the rest of the afternoon cuddling and watching the Wiz-Vision, satisfied to discover that the Prime Minister would be facing numerous charges - some of them quite horrifying - ranging from keeping a several young women captive, locked up in a secret basement under Number Ten Downing Street, to stealing elections, conspiring with terrorist organisations, spying on political opponents in parliament, False Arrests of legal protesters, and framing and assassinating dissidents and whistleblowers, not to mention involving MI5 and MI6 in many of the illegal operations.

They also sadly learned that nearly half a dozen Order members and a number of Ministry associated wizards - including Warlock Goyle - had been killed during the Battle of Hogsmeade.

“At least it’s over,” Hermione sighed.

“But is it?” Both of Harry’s eyebrows popped up and he peered at Hermione earnestly. “I know Umbridge is gone and that the Unspeakables, Death Eaters and Snatchers were captured and that Madam Bones and Shacklebolt are cleaning up the Ministry, but is it really over?”

“A very good question Harry,” said a new voice in the ward. Harry and Hermione looked up to see Dumbledore smiling warmly at them.

“For now though,” continued the headmaster, “I would say so. Indeed, the Order and Monsieur Delacour’s people did manage to capture most of the Minister’s forces with thankfully minimal fatalities on both sides.

“And thanks to the other files recovered from the Department of Mysteries during your most recent incursion, the Order of the Phoenix was able to locate and shut down forever the other Internment Camps this afternoon. The vast majority of those who followed the Minister have been captured and are now being held to await trial... including Percy Weasley of course.”

“Good!” Harry scowled as he contemplated Percy’s role in the Minister’s administration. “I hope he goes to prison for a long, long time.”

“Ah, I daresay that he shall,” said Dumbledore. “You will have some say in the matter of course, as a member of the Wizengamot.”

“Oh... right!” Harry looked surprised at the idea that he would have some input into the official decision making process in the British wizard world. “I’d almost forgotten that I have a seat on the Wizengamot.”

“Indeed...” The Headmaster regarded Harry with twinkling eyes. “Admittedly, the Wizengamot will be a bit smaller than you recall, as a number of Warlocks with seats are themselves facing trial as active participants in Minister Umbridge’s criminal regime.”

“What about Bellatrix Lestrange?” asked Hermione. “Whatever happened to her?”

“Alas, Bellatrix Lestrange has thus far evaded capture,” Dumbledore sighed. “She was nowhere to be found in Hogsmeade, nor at any of the remaining Ministry facilities. Though I do have sources which indicate that she has departed Britain for the time-being. It is quite likely that she may one day be a thorn in our side again... but I have been assured by Angelika Machschnell that an international arrest warrant shall be issued for Bellatrix.”

“I suppose that’s something,” Harry grumbled.

“Quite!” Dumbledore agreed. “Madam Lestrange should not be underestimated of course, but without powerful allies or a government sponsor, her reach and her ability to do harm is greatly diminished. She is on the run and with a bit of luck on our side, one day she will slip up and be arrested.”

“Now that the Prime Minister has been arrested, what about Harry?” asked Hermione pointedly. “Is Harry going to be able to go out in public as himself anytime soon?”

“Ah, well, as the BBC has no doubt informed you, the current government shall collapse within a matter of days, and new elections called for. The current party in power shall likely find itself unceremoniously expelled - its seats in parliament drastically reduced.

“As a result of these transpirings, as the muggle investigation into the Minister’s activities move forward, the muggle arrest warrants for Harry and for Sirius will also be rescinded within the next few days. Indeed, I myself, and some members of the ICW committee for Statutory Violations will be monitoring the process to make certain that all persons unfairly targeted by the Prime Minister are publicly exonerated or released if already arrested.”

“That’s wonderful!” Hermione squealed, giving Harry a kiss on the cheek. “You’ll be able to go out as yourself again, Harry...”

**~o0o~**

Percy Weasley lay in his cot in his cell in the Ministry’s holding facility staring gloomily at the stone ceiling, wondering how he could have been such an idiot, and rather thinking that he didn’t deserve the comfortable mattress he was lying on.

He couldn’t sleep anyway. Every time he closed his eyes, all Percy could see now were the images of the burned corpses stacked in the smouldering rubble of a room at the Welsh Compound, and he couldn’t help thinking that somehow he was responsible for them.

He had actually believed the Minister’s lies that they had all deserved it for being dangerously violent rebels... or had he? 

Percy tried his hardest to suppress the little whispers in the back of his mind which suggested that he had been lying to himself: that deep down he had known from the outset exactly what Dolores’s goals were - advancing the ideology of Pureblood Supremacy - and that he had knowingly approved them at every cruel step of the way - and that he had been on the path long before he had worked for Umbridge, ever since he had joined the Ministry.

It was far easier for Percy to believe that he was simply a gullible idiot than it was believing that it had been his own innate sense of superiority and eagerness to get ahead at the Ministry which had led him astray - led him to becoming a monster, but the whispers in the dark wouldn’t let him alone... 

A ringing knock on the heavy cast-iron door shook Percy from his miserable reverie. He sat up on the cot as the door opened with a long, groaning creak. His eyes widened with surprise to see who was visiting. 

“M...Mother? Father? ... Wh..what are you doing here?”

“Oh Percy!” Percy’s mother peered at him mournfully, dabbing at her tears with a hanky. “Do you really have to ask?”

“But... after everything... everything horrible I’ve done...?” Percy trailed off, his cheeks and ears burning with shame as his eyes flickered towards his father, then cast down at the floor.

Arthur Weasley swallowed uncomfortably, his expression softening. “You’re still our son, Percy, and Ron told me what you did. Thank you! ... Thank you for saving him...”

“I’m sorry,” said Percy in a small voice. “I’m sorry for everything...”

“I know,” Arthur responded gently. “I can’t prevent the wheels of justice from turning, Percy. Nor would I want to - your participation in Umbridge’s regime has enabled some of the most heinous crimes Britain has faced since the last time You-Know-Wh... since _Voldemort_ was at the height of his power, and you _**will**_ have to face the consequences of those actions. But...

Arthur heaved a deep breath, a tear trickling down one cheek. “But I forgive you anyway, Percy.”

Percy let out a sob and buried his face in his hands. 

“I don’t deserve it... I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he muttered between sobs.

“Oh Percy,” said Molly again, wrapping her arms around her son.

**~o0o~**

“Shame, I’m going to miss going out with Harriet,” said Jennifer, when Harry and Hermione told the rest of the Coven the good news after Pomfrey let them leave the infirmary the following morning.

“Yeah... Me too,” Daphne added sadly.

“Says who?” Harry half-grinned and rolled his eyes. “Just because I don’t have to be someone else in public anymore, doesn’t mean I don’t want to be Harriet sometimes. You’ll still get your chance to dress me up like a dolly.”

“Mmm, zat is good,” said Fleur with a smirk, “because I was theenking of a lovely evening gown for your birthday.”

“Oooh! Excellent idea Fleur,” Parvati giggled. “Maybe we can find Harriet some nice lingerie too.”

“I can’t wait,” said Ginny, grinning from ear to ear. “Though I suppose Harriet would prefer to model the lingerie for Hermione alone.”

Luna peered at Harry perceptively and smiled. “Maybe we should keep this to ourselves though,” she said quietly. “Harry might not be ready for everyone to know that he’s a metamorphmagus who can change into a girl just yet.”

“Yes...” Hermione murmured, glancing around the corridor nervously, “maybe we should talk about presents for Harriet later.”

“True, it’s still a secret,” said Dora, nodding.

“Well, Dean already sort of knows, and so do Viktor and Neville,” Harry sighed. “I probably can’t hide it forever. Luna’s right - I dunno if I’m ready for that yet, but I’m not quite as fussed about it now that the Ministry isn’t after me anymore. Anyway... I’ve been thinking - what I really want to do is to visit Godric’s Hollow. That, I’m more than ready for...”

The rest of the Coven quieted and stopped teasing Harry about their plans for Harriet’s wardrobe. Hermione smiled sadly and slipped her hand into his, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“That’s a nice idea Harry,” she said. “We can go next weekend, or over the Easter Holiday if you’d like.”

“If you and Hermione want to go by yourselves, we’ll understand...” Ginny began.

“No!” Harry interjected firmly. “I want you all to come with me. You’re all family now. I’m going to bring the Ring of Peverell with me. I don’t know if it really does bring spirits back from the other side, but if it does, I want my parents to meet you all.”

“We’d like that Harry,” said Luna earnestly. “And they are real - I’m sure of that now more than ever. I heard the whispers beyond the veil in the Department of Mysteries.”

“Wait... you heard the voices too then?” asked Harry. “They weren’t just a figment of my imagination?”

He glanced at Hermione, who had been as close to the veil as anyone could possibly be without passing through it. Hermione looked briefly disconcerted.

“I... I thought I heard something too,” Hermione admitted. “I thought maybe it was just because I had been knocked on the head though. But Luna’s right, Harry. With everything we’ve learned, we know that the spirits of people who’ve died continue on after death, and... and that Peverell’s Ring is a real way to talk to them again - even if it can’t really bring them back to life.”

When Harry, Hermione and the rest of the Unaffiliated finally entered the Great Hall for breakfast, they were practically deafened by the resounding cheer that greeted them. All slightly taken aback and red-faced, they took their seats at the Mingling Table, where they were joined by many of their friends and family members.

“Blimey!” muttered Harry, who had been hoping to slip in to breakfast quietly.

“Everyone knows that you lot took the Ministry by storm...” said Padma, seeing the puzzled expressions their faces.

“...and that Harry and Hermione did in the Minister,” added Lavender, Viktor grinning at her side.

“It wasn’t me, I swear Harry,” said Ron. “Dad told me, but I dunno how everyone else already found out...”

“And the _Daily Prophet_ isn’t issuing a new full edition until tomorrow.” Neville held up the slimmest copy of Britain’s preeminent wizarding newspaper that Harry or Hermione had ever seen. The headline emblazoned across the top was accompanied only by some pictures of Hogsmeade during and after the battle, and a sparse looking article.

**Umbridge Era Finished and Daily Prophet Staff Undergoing Review  
Full Story Tomorrow**

Hermione shrugged at Harry, giving him a sympathetic half-smile. “Well, everyone was going to know eventually anyway, Harry.”

Harry nodded, sighing resignedly, then he shook his head and grinned. 

“Suppose I should be getting used to it by now,” he chuckled. Gradually the hubbub in the Great Hall died down, and breakfast finally arrived...

**~o0o~**

Spring was in full bloom, the fragrance of lilac and honeysuckle on the air, and the Easter Holidays had finally arrived; nonetheless, the streets of Godric’s Hollow were wet with rain. The patter of gentle raindrops thrummed against the large umbrella which Harry held aloft over himself and Hermione as they walked arm in arm. 

The rest of the Coven trailed behind them, under umbrellas of their own as they peered around the historical village with great interest. Fortunately, the locals seemed quite used to small groups of tourists, and paid them little heed. Harry heard several gasps and turned to see what the others were looking at, not seeing it at first.

“Harry...” Hermione pointed at a sign by a wild, overgrown hedge, and then he saw it behind the hedge, a cottage covered with ivy, much of it still standing, though the right side of roof had been blown off. 

Harry recognised it immediately - the home he had shared with his parents - even though it wasn’t in a woodland glade as it had been in his journey into his soul, and through time and space. 

“They’ve written all over it,” said Luna’s indignant voice.

“They shouldn’t have done that,” muttered Hermione, sounding equally vexed.

“What?” Harry tore his eyes away from his ruined childhood home; the entire Coven seemed annoyed.

“The sign - it’s got graffiti all over it!” Dora scowled.

Harry looked closer at the wooden Memorial Sign, embossed with gold lettering which detailed what had happened the night his parents had been killed. Surrounding the golden text, numerous people had left signatures and messages written in Everlasting Ink or carved into the wood - fourteen years worth of acknowledgment and best wishes for Harry Potter, the-Boy-Who-Lived. In that moment, it really hit home how much he had truly meant to so many people.

“No, it’s brilliant!” he said hoarsely, taking everyone by surprise. “It’s fine, really. I’m glad they did,” he added, beaming at them all. 

He took Hermione’s hand again and she smiled at him, suddenly understanding. Harry gave his childhood home one last look, and continued down the road. Eventually the Coven passed a pub and came to a crossroad.

“The church is this way, I think,” said Dora, “We take another turn at the village square up ahead.”

When they reached the heart of the village, Harry was startled when the World War II memorial in the centre of the square shimmered, turning into a statue apparently only visible to wizards. Harry swallowed, his eyes stinging.

“It’s you as a baby with your mum and dad!” gasped Daphne. Everyone gawked at the statue for a moment before looking around the square.

“Is that the one? ...the right church?” asked Ginny, pointing at a little church with stained glass windows. 

“Should be it, accordin’ to the map,” answered Dora, nodding. “Your parents should be in the little cemetery next to the church, Harry.”

Harry felt rooted to the spot, staring for a moment as his heart began to race. He was here, finally, and found that he couldn’t move. Hermione peered at him sadly and squeezed his hand.

“Come on Harry,” she said gently, leading him across the road toward the entrance of the graveyard, which was framed by a kissing gate adorned with pink and white roses. 

Hermione led Harry through the gate into the cemetery and the others followed slowly, suddenly feeling a bit like they were intruding. They all fanned out a bit, looking at the gravestones. 

“Oh, it’s Kendra and Arianna Dumbledore,” Harry distantly heard Jennifer say. “Isn’t that Professor Dumbledore’s mother and sister?”

“I think that’s right,” said Daphne. “They were mentioned in the _Daily Prophet’s_ skewed reports about Dumbledore and Grindelwald.”

“Here’s another one,” Parvati’s voice called out, “I think it’s Harry’s ancestor...”

As everyone’s voices faded, somehow, Hermione seemed to know where she was going, weaving through the gravemarkers and granite headstones as if she were being drawn to the spot by a powerful force. 

Almost numbly, Harry continued following Hermione’s lead; they would have plenty of time to visit the graves of Dumbledore’s family later. Suddenly, Hermione came to a halt.

“Harry, they’re here...” 

Harry peered at the headstone, and sure enough, there were his parents names engraved in the white marble, along with a quote.

 _“‘The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death,’”_ Harry murmured, frowning in puzzlement. “Isn’t that a bit like a Death Eater idea - like that whole Master of Death business, Hermione?”

“No Harry,” said Hermione, shaking her head. “It’s a quote from the Bible. It doesn’t mean defeating Death in the same way. It’s more like what Luna and Parvati talked about that night after the little village in Wales with all the Inferi...”

“Oh! Yeah, I remember,” said Harry, “like going on after death in some sort of way.”

“That’s right,” Hermione agreed, nodding. “The Three Brothers created the Hallows, and Voldemort had his Horcruxes... but none of them were _really_ ‘Masters of Death,’ Harry. It’s Love ... Love is what truly transcends Death! To Love someone is to keep them alive in your heart, even long after they’re gone. To pass on life from parent to child is an act of love... Love is Life...”

“...and that’s why Love is the greatest magic there is,” said Harry, finishing Hermione’s sentence, smiling at her, his eyes glistening wetly as rain dripped from the edge of the umbrella. He set the umbrella down, reached into his pocket, and clutched Peverell’s Ring in his hand, regarding the cracked obsidian gemstone with a pensive expression, then took a deep breath.

“I don’t think I really need this after all, Hermione,” he went on. “They’re already with me in a way. They have been all along. I can feel them with me - they already know you... and the others - through me. 

“I think... I think this stone is for people who have regrets - people who don’t know who they are, or where they came from - people who need answers. But I don’t need answers anymore - not those sorts of answers anyway...” 

Harry looked up again and peered earnestly into Hermione’s brown eyes, which gleamed golden as they always did in these moments.

“I don’t need those kinds of answers because I have you, Hermione,” he said quietly, leaning in to kiss her. 

Their lips met, and for a timeless moment of eternity they were as one, neither of them caring as they grew wetter in the falling rain. Hermione lost herself to the moment, and found herself, in Harry, floating as if on a sea of gossamer. She was breathless and tingling when the kiss ended. 

Beaming incandescently at Harry, her cheeks turning pink, eyelashes fluttering shyly, Hermione knew there was only one thing left to do. Still gripping Harry’s hand tightly with one hand, she raised her wand with the other, a wreath of roses blossoming from the circle she drew in the air. Harry caught it, and together they kneeled as he laid it on his parents grave.

They knelt for several minutes, then stood up, smiling at each other. They were silent for a moment, Harry’s iridescent green eyes meeting Hermione’s shining golden ones as she wrapped her arms around him, drawing him closer. Their lips met once more for another eternal kiss, Harry twirling one of the curls spilling from under Hermione’s knitted cap with his fingers, only parting when they heard giggles nearby. 

“Sorry guys,” said Luna as everyone quieted, trying their hardest to look appropriately solemn. Luna didn’t bother trying to hide her beatific smile. “It’s just, you’re both glowing again.”

The Potters glanced at each other, surprised to see that Luna was right. The silvery luminous glow emanating from the pair of them was so bright, it was visible in daylight.

“I’m sure it’ll be faded by dinnertime tomorrow,” Ginny tried to reassure Harry and Hermione, just in case they might be concerned about the planned massive Easter Celebration at the Burrow.

Harry grinned. “Doesn’t matter really, does it?” 

“Besides, it’d be a surprise for Hermione’s mum and auntie...” he added impishly, a suggestive look in his eye.

“Prat,” giggled Hermione, giving Harry a swat on the shoulder and a peck on the cheek. “ _They_ wouldn’t know that had anything to do with Coven rituals.”

“Well, fortunately no-one really seems to,” said Dora, smirking a bit, “Thank goodness! Seeing as loads of people saw us glowing on the rooftop in Puddleby that night...”


	78. Epilogue

**One week following Easter Sunday:**

It was five after nine when Harry and Hermione reached the floor of St Mungo’s they had been looking for. Harry glanced at the sign by the door uncertainly.

“Well, this is it,” said Harry. “Are you sure this will work, Hermione?”

“I’m not really sure at all, actually,” Hermione admitted. “It depends on if the problem is more physical, or more based on psychological trauma and Dark magic. If it’s the latter, then it _should_ work.”

“Let’s keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best then,” Harry sighed.

**~o0o~**

Neville swallowed nervously. He wasn’t sure why Hannah had insisted on bringing him to St Mungo’s on the next Sunday following Easter, and they were headed up the stairs towards a floor which he was uncomfortably familiar with.

“So... er... who are we going to visit again?” he asked his girlfriend as she dragged him by the hand past the sign on the landing of the fourth floor which read SPELL DAMAGE.

“Oh...er... just some friends...” Hannah replied vaguely, averting her eyes as she pushed through the double doors behind the sign.

Neville frowned. As far as he knew, all of their friends were perfectly fine, having seen them a week ago on Easter Sunday at the Burrow. Harry and Hermione and the rest of their friends had been there - and they had all looked the picture of health, as had all of the Weasleys and Seamus, and Lavender and Viktor, Susan Bones, Parvati’s sister - Padma, and the new witches at Hogwarts - Gemma Dawson and Samantha Mason. 

Harry’s Aunt Petunia and his cousin Dudley had seemed alright, as had Hermione’s mother and aunt, Gemma Dawson’s sister Clara, Samantha’s mother, and Bill Weasley’s girlfriend - not that it was very likely that any of them would end up in St Mungo’s as they were all muggles. Still, if spell damage were involved, he could see how they might be. 

Neville considered the possibility of Harry’s godfather, and Professor Lupin, but they had both been at the Burrow on Easter Sunday, and Professor Lupin had looked perfectly fine on Friday.

And as Neville recalled, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet - seated with their respective boyfriends, Fred and George - had been the recipient of a few suspicious looks from Mrs Weasley but had apparently survived the holiday encounter.

Maybe it was someone who had been injured during the battle of Hogsmeade. Neville ran through everyone in his head. Ernie had seemed alright the last time he’d seen him. Neville supposed it might be Katie Bell, but she had been alright on Friday too. 

Neville’s breath caught and his eyes widened when Hannah pulled him towards the Janus Thickey ward, the home of long-term residents with permanent spell-damage. He halted in his tracks, bringing Hannah up short. Hannah turned and peered at Neville, a gentle look in her eye.

“Neville?”

“Er... Erm... My parents...” he croaked, his eyes growing watery. “Usually... usually me and Gran visit at Christmas - they’re in this ward...”

“It’ll be alright Neville,” Hannah murmured sympathetically, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m here with you. Come on - let’s go in then.”

Neville closed his eyes and took several deep breaths to brace himself. He opened them again and nodded. Hannah pushed open the door. Neville’s eyes nearly flew out of his head in astonishment. He gasped and fainted, collapsing in Hannah’s arms.

 _“Help!”_ Hannah squeaked, puffing as she tried to hold him up. “He’s a bit heavy for me...”

“It’s alright. You can let go now Hannah. I’ve got him,” said Harry, grinning as he took Neville from her.

“Oh... poor Neville!” said Hermione, as she helped Harry half-carry Neville to a chair near one of the occupied hospital beds. “The shock must have been too much for him!”

Hermione turned and gave Mr and Mrs Longbottom an apologetic look. “Maybe we shouldn’t have...”

“That’s alright dear!” Mrs Longbottom interjected, dabbing at her tears with a hanky. “I’m sure he’ll be as right as rain in a few moments.”

The motherly looking Healer who had been trying to keep the agitated furry faced woman at the other end of the ward calm anxiously looked up. The furry faced woman took a look at all the visitors again, and started barking and growling once more.

“There, there, Agnes dear,” the Healer said soothingly, glancing worriedly at Neville, then at the dog-woman.

“It’s alright Healer Periwinkle,” said Hermione, catching on to the Healer’s quandary. “You stay with Agnes. Neville’s just come over a bit faint. He’ll be alright.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Healer Periwinkle, smiling as she shared a look with the two patients who had been in her ward the longest. “I almost fainted myself when I came in. I don’t know how you two managed it, Mr and Mrs Potter, but I couldn’t be more thrilled...”

“Nor we. I still can’t believe we’ve been out of things for nearly sixteen years,” said Mr Longbottom with a grin. “Thanks again for giving us our lives back, Mr and Mrs Potter...”

“There’s my boy,” Mrs Longbottom interjected, gently stroking Neville's cheek. “He’s coming round dear,” she said to her husband before turning back to her son. “Oh, my sweet little Neville - I can’t believe how grown up you look...”

“M...Mum?” Neville croaked as his eyelids fluttered open, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Is... is it really you? Am I dreaming?”

“No darling! You’re wide awake, and so are we.”

Mrs Longbottom opened her arms wide and beamed as Neville flung himself on her, sobbing. Overcome with emotion, Hannah couldn’t help crying too. There wasn’t a dry eye in the ward when the door opened again and a dour looking elderly witch entered.

Augusta Longbottom’s jaw dropped.

“Frank!” she gasped. “Alice! When Dumbledore and Minerva told me to come to St Mungo’s... I never imagined... I can’t believe it! How on earth...?” Madam Longbottom glanced at the Potters questioningly.

Harry wiped his own teary eyes on his sleeve and shared a look with Hermione, not sure what to say. It was still very important that the unusual effects of their Patronuses remain a secret in as small a circle as possible. They both swallowed apprehensively when they saw all eyes on them.

The Potters really hadn’t been certain if their Patronuses would work. It had simply been Harry and Hermione’s hope that they might, considering how they had helped Jennifer, Samantha Mason, and Gemma Dawson recover from their own ordeals, not to mention curing Remus’s lycanthropy.

If there had been too much brain and nerve damage from the repeated use of the Cruciatus Curse on the Longbottoms, the Patronuses might not have worked at all. Under the circumstances, the Longbottoms had been very fortunate that their mental incapacitation had been more due to the effects of residual Dark Magic still trapped in their nervous systems and the psychological trauma of extended torture.

“I... I’m really sorry,” Hermione squeaked. “We really can’t say. It could be dangerous if too many people know what Harry and I can do.”

“Of course!” Mr Longbottom nodded, light dawning on him. Having been an Auror, he knew that what Mrs Potter said only made sense. “I expect you both have a target on your backs as it is. It wouldn’t do to give Dark wizards even more reason to seek you out...”

Harry and Hermione stayed a short while longer, watching the emotional Longbottom family reunion as Neville happily introduced them to his girlfriend Hannah. The Potters slipped quietly out of the Janus Thickey ward while nobody was looking, and returned to their London home in Grimmauld Place where they regaled the rest of the Coven with their success before they all headed to back to their home in Dorset...

**Eleven Months Later:**

The witch with wild dark hair regarded the red-haired infant in the crib with a mix of emotions. She hadn’t counted on having a child at this point of her life, but foolishly, she had forgotten to use a Contraception Charm or Potion the night she had seduced the young wizard. She kicked herself again mentally.

She could hardly blame the wizard, as the youth had been too overwhelmed by the older and much more experienced witch’s wiles to have any sense. No, the fault was hers, and hers alone. And alone she was now - alone and incognito in a country far from the land of her birth.

Still, the witch supposed that things could have been far more disagreeable. He had been no Dark Lord, but at least the fresh-faced and red-haired young wizard who had fathered her child had been a Pureblood. She could have done worse than Percy Weasley.

And at least the small South American nation in which she was hiding had no extradition treaty with Britain. She could lay low for years, raising her child with a proper understanding of what it meant to be Pure of blood while making plans for the future.

Bellatrix Lestrange peered out of the window across the shimmering lake and sighed, watching the palms swaying in the humid breeze. She thanked her lucky stars that the Gringotts Goblins valued their clients’ privacy and cared little about the politics of wizards as long as it didn’t affect them adversely. And as long as she could still access the wealth in her vaults through the local branch, she could continue to live the luxurious lifestyle she was accustomed to without raising any eyebrows.

Bellatrix returned her attention to her little girl who had woken up and started to cry.

“Bungo,” Bellatrix sharply called out to her House-Elf, “Delphini requires sustenance and her nappy changed...”

**15 years later**

Harry Potter glanced around the office of the Legal Aid and Private Auror firm looking for his wife, spying nobody, not even their new secretary or the manager of their adoptions and fosters department. Harry had just returned from Egypt after spending several days meeting with the head of their Auror Office and investigating a new case involving a stolen Obsidian Scarab.

Two of the wizard sentries guarding the chamber under the pyramid from which the artifact had been removed had been murdered in a manner which seemed all too familiar. Another such theft had occurred in India not more than six months ago. A Golden Amulet had gone missing from a temple dedicated to the ancient Dark Sorcerer known to the muggle world as the Hindu deity Kali, the thief leaving no clues, but several dead guards in the outer chamber.

A witch with short curly blonde hair and glasses stepped out from the firm’s lavatory and jumped.

“Oh, Mr Potter! You startled me.”

“Sharon, how many times have I told you to call me Harry?” he asked, his green eyes twinkling with mirth. The Potters’ secretary rolled her eyes.

“As many times as I’ve told you not at work, Mr Potter,” Sharon retorted. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

“You’ve been here three months Sharon,” Harry pleaded, shaking his head. “You know we don’t stand on formalities. Anyway, have you seen Hermione?”

“Mrs Potter told me to let you know that she’s working in the Department of Mysteries today, running an experiment and giving a lecture to a tourist group.”

“Ah, of course she is,” said Harry, grinning. “Thank you Sharon, I’ll pop by the Ministry then.”

Half an hour later, Harry found Hermione in a lab deep in the bowels of the Ministry, explaining and demonstrating the workings of a new magical telescope which she had invented, through which one could make out the details of the surface of the furthest planet in the solar system as if merely looking across the Thames to the other side.

One of the nicest features of the Magi-scope was the holographic projection which allowed everyone to see whatever the Magi-scope was looking at, not to mention that it could peer through dense layers of cloud-cover. At the moment, everyone was looking at a massive lava flow on the surface of Venus - everyone except several small children in the group of visitors who turned and gasped when they heard someone enter the Space Chamber.

“It’s Harry Potter,” squeaked a little boy excitedly.

“Ssh,” whispered his older sister, who had met the famous wizard on several occasions. “I’m trying to listen.”

Hermione’s sharp ears caught the whispers and turned around, grinning when she spotted Harry. When Hermione finished her lecture, the visitors filed out of the Space Chamber and continued their tour of the Department of Mysteries, and Harry signed several autographs for the children. Hermione smirked at Harry.

“So, can’t get enough of your adoring fans, can you?” she giggled.

“Oh shut up!” Harry retorted, rolling his eyes at his bushy haired wife. “I’m not Lockhart.”

“Just teasing Harry. How was your trip to Egypt? Would you like a cup of tea?”

“I’d love some! And it was perplexing - I’m sure it’s connected to the stolen amulet in India somehow.”

Hermione dimmed the lights while Harry made a pot of tea at the little unmanned concession stand at the side of the chamber. Taking a seat on one of the sofas to look at the three dimensional projections of the stars and the planets orbiting above them, the Potters shared a deep kiss.

Hermione curled an arm around Harry as he took a sip of tea and began to relax. The case could wait for the time-being, there was more to life than work.

“How are the kids? Did they miss me?” asked Harry.

“Of course they did, silly,” said Hermione, giving her husband another kiss. “Dobby is at home today with Lily-Rose, and James. Of course, the kids are missing Lysander and Aurora as well...”

“Oh, are Dora and the others still on tour then?”

“Yes, they’re performing their last concert in Tokyo tonight. They’ll be back sometime tomorrow. And by the way, Hannah and Neville, and Viktor and Lavender will be joining us all for dinner tomorrow evening at the manor in Dorset. Fleur and Dora have some sort of announcement for us...”

“Don’t tell me, they’re expecting,” said Harry, grinning.

Hermione swatted his shoulder. “It’s meant to be a surprise! You’re not supposed to guess!”

“Oh come on,” Harry chortled. “You told me there’s an announcement. What else could it be? They’re the last pair - or trio - of the Coven to have a kid. Luna, Ginny, and Parvati have Lysander, and Daphne and Jennifer have Aurora... And by the way, did I ever tell you how brilliant you are for inventing a magical way for same-sex couples to have their own baby?”

“Only about a million times Harry.” Hermione beamed and gave Harry yet another kiss. “And I spoke to Arthur earlier today. Things are going very well with negotiations for the next phase of the loosening of the Secrecy Statutes - Dumbledore’s managed to talk some more delegates in the International Confederation of Wizards into supporting his bill. So with a bit of luck, soon we’ll be able to share some of our magical technology with non-magicals, and Healers will be able to work at non-magical hospitals.”

“That’s brilliant!” said Harry. “Right then! Let’s get home, I’ve brought some presents back from Egypt for the kids... and I could do with a nice hot bath.”

“Mmm... Sounds good! I think I’ll join you in the tub,” Hermione purred, giving her husband one more kiss for the road...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, It’s a short epilogue, but it ties up most of the loose ends while leaving room for possible sequels, and I didn’t see much point to padding it out, as I prefer stories which don’t drag scenes out simply for the sake of it.
> 
> I dithered for over a month while I considered doing something completely different for the epilogue from my other story, the super-smutty, multiple partners, more satirical one, _Hermione’s Furry Little Problem_ , but considering how much of the storyline is shared - more or less AU versions of each other from the triwizard tournament on - it only made sense that the epilogue should remain more or less the same as well.
> 
> Thanks to all the readers who faved and followed, and stuck with it all the way through to the end. It’s been a fun ride.


End file.
